Jurors to decide if 2 fixed cases

Saying good lawyers don't fix cases, the government had to use the corrupt lawyers.
By PATRICIA MEADE
VINDICATOR CRIME REPORTER
CLEVELAND -- Jurors who heard the racketeering case against James. A. Vitullo and Russell J. Saadey Jr. will either believe the men represent another part of Mahoning County's corruption picture or were framed into it.
Jurors were to begin deliberating this morning after hearing closing arguments and picking a foreman Monday in U.S. District Court.
The 10-woman, two-man jury had more than 100 pages of instructions to guide them through racketeering conspiracy charges against the Austintown men.
The government also charged Saadey, who is known as "Champ," with filing false tax returns and false credit card applications.
James A. Philomena, county prosecutor from 1989 through 1996, hired Vitullo as an assistant prosecutor and Saadey as an investigator with the idea of making money by fixing cases, said Thomas J. Gruscinski, lead prosecutor.
Saadey, who collected a "finder's" or "referral" fee, liked the big cases, and Vitullo stuck to the smaller ones, mostly DUIs, the prosecutor said.
Description: Gruscinski described Vitullo, who had to pay about half his salary in alimony and child support, as wanting to get in on the money Philomena and others made through bribery.
The prosecutor depicted Saadey as a high-roller with six cell phones who drove a Mercedes or Cadillac, shopped at The Difference, a fine-men's store, and bought $10,000 pieces of jewelry -- all on $28,000 net income, says one tax return.
After a scathing onslaught by defense attorneys David J. Betras and Maridee L. Costanzo, which included Costanzo's calling one government witness "black ooze," Gruscinski defended the witnesses who formed the heart of the case:
*Fred H. Bailey, a convicted ex-county judge, who said he took three to four bribes from Vitullo at the Austintown court, usually $500 each time. Bailey said he assumed the bribes came because he signed off on the case decisions Vitullo made. The judge testified that he needed extra money because he had to pay a woman for 17 years to keep quiet about their love affair.
Gruscinski, referring to Bailey's befuddled testimony, likened him to Col. Sherman Potter, the commander from M*A*S*H who would sign anything put under his nose, then get back to the card game. Gruscinski called Bailey "more of an exhibit than a witness."
*Jack V. Campbell, Stuart J. Banks and Lawrence J. Seidita, all ex-lawyers who said they bribed Vitullo to reduce or dismiss cases. Gruscinski referred to Banks as the slimy character Joe Pesci played in the movie "My Cousin Vinny."
*James R. Wise, an ex-lawyer who said Vitullo mentioned that Saadey had sent a DUI client to Wise. Vitullo, Wise said, suggested $10,000 would reduce the charge and $30,000 would make it go away. Wise said he thanked Saadey for the referral. By then, though, the client's DUIs were under investigation by the FBI and Philomena refused to authorize the fix.
Gruscinski said he didn't have Johnnie Cochran (O.J. Simpson's attorney) or Ruth Bader Ginsburg (U.S. Supreme Court justice) to call to the witness stand because good lawyers couldn't tell the jury how to fix cases.
Plea agreements: The government's witnesses had plea agreements that compelled them to testify, and the cooperation earned them reduced sentences.
Judge Kathleen M. O'Malley told jurors that they could consider the witnesses' plea agreements when determining credibility.
Gruscinski said the others whom the convicted lawyers gave up -- Philomena, judges Bailey, Andrew Polovischak Jr., Martin W. Emrich and Patrick V. Kerrigan -- all pleaded guilty.
"Maybe we should thank Mr. Vitullo for bringing this case to trial so those guys [the ex-lawyers] would have to take the stand," the prosecutor said.
Other felons who testified for the government were:
*Robert E. Harvey Jr., a former Canfield car dealer who said he and his partner got swindled out of $200,000 to fix their odometer rollback case. Gruscinski said the extortion involved Russell Saadey and his uncle, Anthony Saadey, and that the money was intended for Philomena. Philomena, who got a third of $100,000, never knew the bribe payment was really $200,000, Gruscinski said.
*Dennis P. Orr, once a North Jackson diet-pill doctor who said an attempt was made on him by Russell Saadey, Philomena, Campbell and Banks to extort $50,000 to $100,000. Gruscinski said Orr was considered a "cash cow" by Russell Saadey, but the doctor was too savvy and didn't pay. Philomena then transferred the doctor's case to federal court, where Orr was convicted of illegally dispensing pills.
*Martin DePerro, owner of Youngstown Bridge & amp; Iron, who said he helped two friends fix their DUIs. DePerro said he brought his friends' bribe money to The Upstairs Lounge in Austintown, owned by a Saadey family member.
If the plea deals hadn't been cut, Gruscinski said, the lawyers, cars dealers, doctor and others "would still be out there." He said the "Mahoning County way was to slide a little money" through the back door and "everyone goes away happy."
Gruscinski said the drunk drivers who had their cases fixed "lived to drink and drive again."
Betras, Saadey's lead attorney, called the men who testified "a parade of horribles" and referred to them as scam artists who needed the jury for their one last scam. He said the government brought sludge into the courtroom.
Betras zeroed in on the crimes of each witness, such as Harvey, whom Betras called a "rollback guru" and tax cheat. "He's a used-car salesman -- you think he can't sell you something?"
Several times, to emphasize his points, Betras would face the jury box, hold up both hands and say "Whoa! You're going to believe that?"
What lawyer said: Betras reminded jurors that Banks paid to fix a murder case, and "called his pals at the Supreme Court," a reference to Banks' collecting $20,000 from Atty. Michael Morley, who asked that the calls be made in an effort to keep a case from being heard. Morley has denied the allegation. "You know he [Banks] sells cars now, too," Betras said.
Betras cautioned jurors that if they could not rely on the witnesses' testimony individually, to not rely on it collectively.
Costanzo, one of Vitullo's lawyers, told jurors that the common thread that binds the testimony of the witnesses together was "the deal." She said the men, motivated by fear and self-preservation, gave a little more and got a little more in return from the government.
The government, she said, had no evidence other than "those slimeballs' own words." The only reason the ex-lawyers cooperated was because they got caught then made a mad scramble to "save their butts."
Costanzo said Vitullo explained why he gave money to Bailey -- for his elections, when he performed a marriage ceremony and for the woman whom the judge wanted to keep quiet.
"She sat like a little harpy in [Austintown] court to shake down the judge," Costanzo, said, describing how the woman would sometimes come to court to collect the money.
Costanzo said Seidita had no clue which cases he fixed until the FBI fanned cases out in front of him.
"He would have said anything to save his heinie," Costanzo said. "I could have trained a bear better than Larry Seidita."
Banks, she said, didn't look jurors square in the eye, whereas Vitullo did. She said her client was consistent, factual and forthright, a stark contrast to the government's witnesses.
The courtroom erupted in laughter when Costanzo, talking about one particular case that had been discussed several times, tried to say it had been discussed ad nauseam. Instead, she stammered "ad-naud --," "as-naud --." Finally, laughing along, Costanzo said it had been discussed "forever."
Even Judge O'Malley chuckled.
Costanzo, directing her attention to Campbell, said the ex-lawyer mimicked what Gruscinski wanted him to say each time about a bribe, that money was paid to Vitullo "to affect the outcome of the case."
She said Campbell, who choked up on the stand when he spoke about having an autistic child, didn't think about that child when he was shaking down Orr and Richard Silvestri.
Silvestri, to fix a robbery case in Columbiana, had his family in Warren pay $24,000 to Campbell and $16,000 to Russell Saadey through Mitchell Hulvalchick III of Boardman. Testimony has shown that when the case wasn't fixed, $33,000 was returned to Silvestri.
Costanzo said the case boiled down to one thing. She put her hand on Vitullo's shoulders and said "Do you believe him, or do you believe them," and pointed to the witness stand.
Gruscinski called Vitullo the proverbial "piano player in the house of ill repute" because he contended that he knew nothing about the case fixing going on by Philomena and the rest.
meade@vindy.com