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  • Prosecuting The North Case

    Prosecuting The North Case

    “Opening Arguments: A Young Lawyer’s First Case: United States vs. Oliver North”

    by Jeffrey Toobin

    Viking, $22.95

    If you were ever interested in what the Oliver North trial was really like, then look no further: “Opening Arguments” is your book.

    Author Jeffrey Toobin, fresh out of Harvard Law School, went to work for special prosecutor Lawrence E. Walsh in 1986 and eventually helped try the case against the former Marine lieutenant colonel in the Iran-contra investigation. His book recounts his struggle to come to terms with the meaning of life as a prosecutor.

    The book almost did not get published. As a prosecutor, Toobin had to maintain confidentiality, a responsibility confirmed in writing when he took the job. Although the Bush administration approved Toobin’s manuscript, the Office of the Independent Counsel – his boss, Judge Walsh – did not. After months of negotiation, Toobin and his publisher finally won a lawsuit allowing “Opening Arguments.”

    The book does not reveal new secrets about Iran-contra, but it does describe life inside the independent prosecutor’s office. And while that disclosure is questionable itself, it nonetheless is a fascinating look at one of the most tangled trails of deception in our government. Toobin also illuminates the gross error committed by Congress in holding public hearings and granting immunity before the criminal trial – for little apparent reason other than congressional preening before the camera.

    The only way Congress could override any Iran-contra defendant’s Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination was to grant immunity from being prosecuted on the basis of their own forced testimony. As a result, prosecutors had to demonstrate their ignorance of the public hearings, a nearly impossible task, as demonstrated by the eventual reversal of North’s conviction. Walsh currently is seeking to have North’s sentence reinstated by the Supreme Court.

    Toobin carefully weaves underlying events with a description of the prosecution’s problems, making the story at once accessible and disturbing. He is at his best, though, in vividly retelling the courtroom drama itself: The story fairly crackles as chief prosecutor John Keker, like North a Marine veteran of Vietnam, faces off against defense counsel Brendan (“I am not a potted plant”) Sullivan.

    In Keker’s cross-examination, he brilliantly turned North’s evasive and self-serving answers against him in a way that befuddled Congressmen had never seemed able to do in their earlier hearings. For example, North testified that he “felt like a pawn in a chess game being played by giants” when ordered to hold a deceptive briefing for congressmen.

    Keker then carefully led North through his training at the Naval Academy, forcing him to admit that he was instructed to refuse unlawful orders: “You were trained that if an order is unlawful, you can’t say something like, `Oh, I felt like a pawn in a chess game among giants,’ right?”

    In a broader sense, though, this book is not about the scandal itself or even “a young lawyer’s first case”; it really is about what constitutes a crime.

    Toobin makes clear where he places blame for the entire Iran-contra affair: Ronald Reagan. But whether a crime was actually committed – the point of the entire prosecution – turns out to be a bit more complex. Starting with a broad and ominous conspiracy charge against North, Walsh eventually was forced to pursue only narrow criminal charges: obstruction of justice, lying to Congress, shredding documents, defrauding the government, and theft. He only obtained convictions on the three most obvious: lying, cheating and stealing.

    In the end, Toobin concludes that only those deserve the crime label. Arrogance is not a crime, “Nor is a reprehensible policy in Central America or an inept attempt to free American hostages. Only crimes are crimes.”

    Broader judgments, he decides, involve distinctions which are personal, idiosyncratic and individualistic – and recognizing the difference between “moral as opposed to criminal responsibility will preserve the integrity of both.”

    But is it really just personal morality or “philosophical difference” that condemns foreign-policy conduct explicitly forbidden by law? Toobin’s rush to his conclusion confuses problems of proof – endemic to any litigation, criminal or otherwise – with defining what is and what is not criminal conduct.

    Simply because prosecutors were unable to obtain untainted evidence to convict North on the larger charges does not mean that his conduct was not criminal. It means only that each sphere of the government should stick to its assigned role: Congress to enact the law, the president to execute and obey that law, and the criminal-justice system to prosecute violations.

    When the roles get confused and the president ignores the law while Congress feebly attempts to enforce it, true prosecution is impossible. That’s the real lesson of Iran-contra, and President Reagan and Oliver North are hardly the only villains.

  • Acute Legal Conflict — Personal Professional Relationships Are Examined

    Acute Legal Conflict — Personal Professional Relationships Are Examined

    `The Burden of Proof”

    by Scott Turow

    Farrar, Straus & Giroux, $22.95
    He finds her body in the garage. Alejandro “Sandy” Stern, the brilliant defense attorney introduced in Scott Turow’s superb 1988 best seller, “Presumed Innocent,” arrives home preoccupied with the defense of his brother-in-law, who is being investigated for insider trading. Expecting to be greeted by Clara, his demure wife of 30 years, Stern instead is confronted with her suicide in the garage.

    So begins “The Burden of Proof,” Turow’s riveting second novel. Rather than seeking to duplicate his success in “Presumed Innocent” with another whodunit murdery-mystery, Turow instead tackles a more complex and challenging theme: the limits of personal and professional relationships.

    Turow uses Stern’s investigation of both his wife’s death and his client’s professional conduct to examine fundamental questions: How well can you ever know another person? How binding is a lawyer’s duty to his or her client? Or a husband’s duty to his wife? Or a father’s to his three grown children? The plot of “The Burden of Proof” is thoroughly engaging, though not as devilishly surprising as Turow’s first novel.

    Stern was the attorney in “Presumed Innocent” who defended Rusty Sabich, the Kindle County prosecutor accused of a brutal rape and murder. Apart from passing references (to tell us, for example, that three years have passed and that Sabich has become a judge), the new book has nothing to do with events of the first. Newcomers to Turow need not fear.

    In “The Burden of Proof,” Stern struggles to defend from indictment his sister’s husband, Dixon Hartnell, the wheeler-dealer head of a commodity-futures trading house and a man with whom Stern has had a long, uneasy relationship. Simultaneously he struggles to accept his wife’s suicide.

    Puzzling over Clara’s private life, he reexamines what he thought he knew, arriving at what he believes to have been her reasons for taking her life, only to have each delicately constructed rationale collapse in the face of another unexpected development. Stern gradually comes to realize how little he actually knew of his wife or her inner turmoil.

    Turow, himself a Chicago lawyer, is most successful in probing the complexities of the lawyer-client relationship. He masterfully revolves the familial and client entanglements to reveal new perspectives on the limits of a lawyer’s ability to defend his or her client – questions complicated by Stern’s string of sexual liaisons in the aftermath of Clara’s death and an ethically questionable flirtation with the prosecutor opposing him in the Hartnell case.

    Indeed, at least for the lawyers reading this novel, one of its pleasures is the accuracy and care with which the limits are drawn and the principles explained. Seeking to trace ownership of an account in Hartnell’s brokerage firm, the prosecutor subpoenas documents from Hartnell, who, fearing further warrants, places certain sensitive documents in a safe he delivers to Stern’s office. When Stern himself is subpoenaed to produce the safe containing confidential information about his client, the conflict becomes acute.

    Without disclosing the slam-bang finish – rest assured, there is one – Sandy Stern ultimately discovers that his tidy world is not as it has seemed. Both mysteries – Clara’s death and Hartnell’s dealings – suddenly dovetail, undermining all of Stern’s original assessments of people and prior events. Stern’s ethical obligation to defend his client zealously is suddenly placed in opposition to his duty as a husband and a father.

    The conclusion of “The Burden of Proof” is surprising, almost too clever. Here, as in a few other places, the plot becomes a bit implausible as Turow struggles to tie loose ends together. Although it fails to match the sheer suspense of Turow’s first effort, “The Burden of Proof” is nonetheless a disturbing examination of moral complexities, and a worthy and compelling novel.