All smoke and smears

The day that Boston's black ministers decided that their idea of Christian charity no longer extended to propping up Dianne Wilkerson, the tension was palpable at the Charles Street AME Church.

It was Halloween. Most press reports noted that Wilkerson, under pressure, had gone before a bank of microphones to announce that she would be suspending her sticker campaign to keep her state Senate seat and would resign from the Senate in the near future, following a federal indictment accusing her of taking bribes.

Things were never really that straightforward, a fact underscored by Wilkerson's recent claim that she felt "assaulted" by the men of the cloth. She portrayed herself, once more, as a victim, this time of a conspiracy by people who should have been praying for her.

The main targets of the screed were the Rev. Ray Hammond of Bethel AME Church and the Rev. Jeffrey Brown of the TenPoint Coalition - who did, indeed, lead the charge to drive her out of office before the end of her term. Both reluctantly agreed to address her barbs yesterday.

"These allegations are baseless and false," Brown said. "It seems another sad chapter for a public servant who has had at times a brilliant career."

Hammond said Wilkerson is trying to deflect attention. "There is no better way to avoid the issues of your own responsibility and accountability than by pointing the finger at someone else," he said. "She knows that there are people who would rather chew on this bone than face the reality of what she's done."

Wilkerson, unfortunately, has declined to elaborate on her woe-is-me missive, which seems to have surprised even supporters.

Perhaps people shouldn't be surprised. Since the day they were arrested, both Wilkerson and Boston City Councilor Chuck Turner have painted each case as the work of dark outside forces. Turner's villain of choice is the FBI, still haunted by the spirit of J. Edgar Hoover. Wilkerson blames the feds, too, but in her version they conspired with enemies within her community, especially the ministers with whom she had feuded.

The low point of Wilkerson's relationship with the clergy came during the fierce debate over gay marriage in 2004, in which she rightly accused them of abandoning the legacy of the civil rights movement. Not surprisingly, many of the targets of her current ire are people she feuded with then.

Hammond noted that almost all black elected officials supported marriage equality, and he insisted that everyone has moved on. "Most of the politicians we work with supported gay marriage," he said. "We have learned to agree to disagree."

It's understandable but unfortunate that Wilkerson has declined to address the substance of the case. The problem with floating conspiracy theories and playing the victim is that it never addresses what happened in the moments when, according to the indictment, she was taking cash from an FBI informant. Blasting the clergy is just another way to avoid talking about the real issue.

One person we have heard from is the informant, who says he gave her money to help him secure a liquor license. He doesn't remember an unwilling participant, or a victim. In his telling, she was all too happy to take his cash and bragged about making good while doing good. We've all seen the pictures of her taking money. Why doesn't she write a letter about that?

Maybe it's more convenient to attack other people. The ministers say they demanded that she step down because they thought she could no longer be effective. Whatever their motives, they were certainly right about that. If anyone was assaulted, it may have been the people who placed their trust in the grasping hands of Dianne Wilkerson.

Adrian Walker is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at walker@globe.com.