Arresting images
Sal DiMasi has never been one to sweat publicly, and Tuesday was no exception.
The former House speaker had sworn that this day - the day of his arraignment - would never come. But when it did, when he and three fellow defendants appeared in federal court, they looked as comfortable as they would on one of their beloved golf courses.
They had reason to appear relaxed. DiMasi wasn't led into the courtroom in handcuffs. In fact, he wasn't even arrested, per se. His lawyer has been notified that his client would probably be charged that day and arranged for DiMasi to turn himself in at his leisure.
If you believe this is standard treatment for politicians accused of federal crimes, you have either a short or a selective memory. Last fall, Chuck Turner, Boston city councilor, was arrested at 6:30 a.m. in his City Hall office.
A few weeks before that, State Senator Dianne Wilkerson was arrested at home in what amounted to a raid. While she stood by in handcuffs, federal officials searched her home. In this context, "search" means "ripped her house apart." She wouldn't even live in it after she was released, telling friends her home had been violated.
Apparently, if one has to be busted for allegedly committing crimes in office, it pays to be a former speaker. Tom Finneran wasn't arrested the day he was indicted, either - he just released an indignant statement about his many years serving the public good. Procedurally, the cases involving Turner and Wilkerson differ from DiMasi's. They had yet to be indicted, and were charged following an undercover investigation. Federal officials reportedly wanted to arrest them before they had the opportunity to destroy documents that could prove significant to their cases.
Still, the double standard struck some people as glaring.
"Speaker DiMasi's arrest was handled appropriately," said Max D. Stern, Wilkerson's lawyer. "But Senator Wilkerson's could have been handled the same way, and it wasn't."
The US attorney's office didn't return calls yesterday seeking an explanation for how authorities decide to handle arrests.
To be clear, wondering about how their arrests were conducted is not meant as a defense of any of the elected officials involved. I have stated my opinion of the Wilkerson case more than once, so let me try to be brief here: I think she has an awful lot of evidence to explain away. At first blush, the case against her looks awfully persuasive.
I think DiMasi's defense lawyer is looking at an uphill climb, too.
The public reactions to the DiMasi and Wilkerson cases has been as different as the arrests. Thanks in part to the pictures the government released in the hours after her arrest, Wilkerson became an instant punchline. The public couldn't be rid of her fast enough.
DiMasi's case is as much an indictment of the Beacon Hill culture as anything else. Allegedly taking kickbacks from steering a contract is as old-school as corruption gets. As a Globe story detailed yesterday, the Patrick administration turned a blind eye to obvious signs that something was fishy in his insistence that a minor contract go to a specific vendor. No one should be surprised. In the name of "building a relationship" with a speaker who was killing their agenda, no one was about to pick a fight with DiMasi over some software contract. Who cares what software the Department of Education uses? On Beacon Hill, the culture always wins, no matter what Deval Patrick used to think.
At any rate, Sal DiMasi got treated like a "throwback" and Dianne Wilkerson got treated like a common street criminal. Never mind that the crimes they are accused of - depriving the public of their honest services - are essentially the same. Speakers aren't subjected to handcuffs, no matter how outraged law enforcement professes to be. Even in a politician's ultimate fall from grace, power speaks eloquently.
Adrian Walker is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at walker@globe.com. 