Jill Porter: On the witness stand, he's not so powerful

HIS FACE was as gray as his suit.

And, yesterday, the man who was once arguably the most powerful politician in the state became prey, trapped by his own words, after years of dogged law-enforcement pursuit.

Former state Sen. Vincent Fumo was cornered on the witness stand all day, confronted with damning e-mails, memos and interviews about the use of Senate resources for political and personal benefit, and lies about his relationship with a nonprofit that he's accused of plundering.

The former powerhouse was polite, respectful and subdued, as Assistant U.S. Attorney John Pease relentlessly and calmly subjected him to grueling cross-examination.

After acknowledging the commingling of professional, personal and political activities and resources, Fumo said more than once, "At the time, I didn't think it was a big deal."

What about now, in retrospect? Pease inquired.

"Look, in retrospect, I wish I never got elected to the Senate," Fumo shot back, acknowledging the enormity of his current fate.

Which isn't to say that Fumo was defeated or has acknowledged any crime.

The use of Senate staff for personal benefit - from overseeing extensive renovations of his Green Street mansion to installing stereo equipment on his boat - wasn't at taxpayers' expense, he maintained.

His staff did those things on personal time, in addition to the 37 1/2 hours they worked for the Senate, he said.

Nor was he the demanding tyrant he appeared to be in his e-mails, he testified, insisting that he had "asked" or "requested" a willing and close-knit staff to do favors for him.

In fact, the fireworks that most onlookers anticipated when Fumo was subjected to cross-examination never materialized.

The famously volatile, profane and emotional Fumo was composed and contained all day. He looked grim, his spirited vitality drained from him.

Only once did he show anything other than restraint.

Pease confronted him about a comment he made during direct testimony that he didn't "report to anyone" in his role as state senator.

"Don't you report to the public?" Pease said.

Fumo rolled his eyes, and the judge chastised Pease for being "argumentative."

Pease spent surprisingly little time on what's perhaps the most inflammatory part of the case: Fumo's electronic and physical stalking of his ex-girlfriend.

Fumo had her followed by a Senate-paid detective and installed an electronic device on her computer that allowed him to read her e-mails.

The jury is predominantly women, and I've always thought that they'd find this transgression the most unforgivable.

"I was broken-hearted, I was jealous and I shouldn't have done it," Fumo said, but denied that the e-mail snooping amounted to an illegal wiretap.

Pease no doubt was appealing to the juror's sensibilities when he pointed out the extravagances of Fumo's lifestyle.

There was the "chandelier from Italy" and the brochures for "the refrigerator in your dressing room" on Green Street; the $10,000 the Senate paid over four years to ship packages to him at his Florida home, which included "hazelnut coffee" and "Sebastian hairspray"; there's the farm, the vacation homes, the boat.

Surely, during the worst economic crisis of our time, the jurors have little sympathy for Fumo's lavish lifestyle, allegedly financed in part by taxpayers.

And surely they'll find some of Fumo's answers disingenuous if not downright deceitful.

Perhaps the most damning moment of the day was when Pease played a radio interview in which Fumo minimized his role in Citizen's Alliance, a nonprofit that he created, and said that it provided him no salary or benefits.

In fact, he acknowledged during the trial that he had made many major decisions for the nonprofit and admitted that it provided him tools, equipment and vehicles.

He insisted that they were "gifts" - which he didn't report to the IRS or on other financial disclosure forms - "not money or benefits in the way I was looking at benefits."

"You did not tell the truth?" Pease said, in the most aggressive questioning of the day.

"I chose my words carefully," Fumo said, weakly.

And so it went, with Pease pursuing Fumo into corners he couldn't quite escape.

There's much yet to come, and no jury verdict can accurately be predicted - not even this one.

Still, yesterday's day of reckoning was a dramatic consummation of years of investigation and a sorry watershed in a brilliant political career.

It was either a triumph or a tragedy, depending on your point of view.

I like Fumo and respect the government, so from mine, it was both.
 
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E-mail porterj@phillynews.com or call 215-854-5850. For recent columns:

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