Conrad In Court

By: Mark Fitzgerald Conrad Black's latest appearance in federal court Friday was mostly a low-key affair. Much of the hour-plus session was given over to such technical issues as "Rule 15 depositions," waivers of attorney conflicts, and re-signing of extradition assurances by Black and other former Hollinger International executives who have pleaded not guilty to the massive looting of the one-time worldwide newspaper empire.

But there was a moment in the courtroom when three strangers to the case of USA v. Black appeared to electrify the former mogul and at least a couple of his co-defendants.

Before U.S. District Judge Amy J. St. Eve got to the arraignment on new criminal charges against Black and three other former key executives of the Chicago Sun-Times' parent company, she had another arraignment to dispose of: USA v. Brewster et al, case # 1:06-cr-0063.

Now, even before Judge St. Eve entered the courtroom, there seemed to be more security people than the Hollinger case usually attracts, even with a rare appearance by Black. But when the Brewster case was called, the reason for those three or four Judicial Protective Services people became apparent.

Two muscular federal marshals entered from a side door in the courtroom. From the open door came the sounds of rattling chains.

You could hear a metallic rustling, like the ringing of a Salvation Army Christmas bell's evil twin.

One after another, there were flat thumps, as the shackles fell to the floor.

When the sounds quieted, three stocky men in orange prison jumpsuits emerged from the door, their now-unshackled hands scrupulously crossed behind their backs under the darting eyes of the marshals.

There are three Brewster's accused in USA v. Brewster: Kendall, Marcell and Randall. Six other co-defendants -- with nicknames, according to the government, such as "Big G" and "Lord" -- face the same charges of selling crack cocaine and possessing illegal firearms.

This kind of appearance is routine in federal court, so the assistant U.S. attorneys prosecuting Black simply skimmed through papers or whispered among themselves. The many blue-suited defense attorneys were doing the same, sometimes smiling at each other at some out-of-earshot remark.

But Conrad Black wasn't smiling, and his eyes weren't scanning the room like the marshals' -- he was staring as if transfixed at the three prisoners in orange. So was Peter Y. Atkinson, the former Hollinger executive vice president who never exchanges a word with, nor even a glance at, his former boss. It was hard to tell exactly from where I was, but it looked like former CFO John "Jack" Boultbee was similarly transfixed.

White collar crime, crime in the suites, as they say, often has, let's face it, a kind of rollicking quality.

And few cases have more of that than the Hollinger caper, starting with the outsized figure of Black himself. Later in the morning, prosecutors and defense would argue about the disposition of a 26-carat diamond ring, other jewelry and assorted antiques that Black apparently bought for his wife on a one-day shopping spree. This is a man who told the court in a filing that, while he has no income to speak of, his expenses every month amount to about $200,000, including nine grand for the gardener.

But the orange jumpsuits crashed that buzz.

At least for me, and I'm betting for Black and his co-defendants as well. Here was, literally, prison staring them in the face.

Black and his alleged co-conspirators face sentences ranging up to 40 years if prosecutors manage to prove their guilt. Used to be, you could figure a globe-trotting executive like Black -- a peer in the House of Lords, for crying out loud -- would never actually get that kind of jail time.

That Brewster brothers crack-cocaine conspiracy kind of jail time.

Nowadays, though, justice can be rough on these guys. Practically every ordinary American has his or her retirement tied up in 401Ks. So when executive corruption causes the Enron's, Global Crossing's, and Tyco's of the world to collapse and wipe out years of savings, people tend to cheer long sentences for the guilty.

The government's case has been helped by the decision of Black's lieutenant, former Chicago Sun-Times Publisher David Radler, to flip on the boss with whom he made millions. In exchange for a reduced sentence, likely to be served in his native Canada, Radler will testify against Black and the others when trial begins March 5, 2007.

I don't know if anyone flipped on Kendall "Ken Ken" Brewster and the others, but that's the usual pattern in drug cases.

According to the indictment, when the alleged drug ring was busted, the police recovered, in addition to a quantity of crack and various guns, the grand total of $5,600 in cash.

Enough to pay not quite three weeks of Conrad Black's gardening expenses.

But for that electric moment Friday morning, the chasm of class, achievement, and ambition that separates the men in the navy-blue and gray business suits who were awaiting arraignment from the men in orange jump suits who were already in front of Judge St. Eve seemed to narrow. Just a little bit.

But I'm guessing a little alarmingly, too.