Buzz Bissinger: In court, disgraced ex-cop Daniel Castro played a wronged ex-cop

LAST WEEK, one of the greatest performances in history took place in a federal courtroom in Philadelphia.

The actor was 47-year-old defendant Daniel Castro, a once-rising star in the Philadelphia Police Department who was fired after being indicted in November on charges of bribery and extortion in connection with a real-estate deal breaking bad.

Castro's timing on the witness stand was impeccable (cue the sobs, cue the Marlon Brandoesque plaintive plea of "I'm a good guy," cue the shame of embarrassing his mama).

Much of the evidence against him was on tape and seemed remarkably incriminating, which put Castro in a difficult spot. But his artistic interpretation was something out of Olivier: He actually admitted most of the 10 charges he was accused of and yet somehow convinced the jury that it wasn't his fault.

Instead, he portrayed himself as a helpless victim intimidated by a convicted drug-dealer friend who had the thuggish job of selling electronics. This from a cop with 25 years of experience. This from a cop who presumably knew the difference between legality and illegality better than anyone else. This from a cop considered such a strong leader within the department that he was said to be a contender for the commissioner's job one day.

And yet, when Rony Moshe, who unbeknownst to Castro was an informant for the FBI and wearing a wire, suggested the use of violence to get back the 90 grand that Castro was owed by businessman Wilson Encarnacion, he testified that he became a puddle and OK'd it.

Even if Moshe did push hard on the use of violence, so what? Why didn't Castro - who knows what any suggestion of violence can lead to when dealing with lowlifes, who serves under a motto of honor, integrity, service - just say no? Why didn't he draw the moral line? Why didn't he be a man instead of a quivering wimp?

Because Daniel Castro missed his true calling in life. He never should have been a cop. He should have been an actor. Because that's what he did on the witness stand, give a rendition with such power that it was surprising the jury didn't give him a standing ovation afterward and ask for his autograph.

Instead, the jury did much better. In one of the better perversions of justice in Philadelphia in quite some time, it found him guilty of only one of the counts against him, acquitted him of one altogether, and were deadlocked on the eight others.

The jury swallowed the entrapment defense. It believed the assertion that the FBI, instructing Moshe, did indeed goad Castro into authorizing the use of violence against Encarnacion to get his money back. And let's be clear, Rony Moshe, the prosecution's key witness, makes Milton Street look occasionally credible.

But that was incidental to Castro on the witness stand, which he should turn into a DVD and sell to tens of thousands of other defendants all over the country. It would make him a millionaire, the legal equivalent of the Jane Fonda workout. And Castro wouldn't have to care anymore about the $90,000 he lost in a failed 2006 real-estate deal (not to be picky, but where does a police inspector, who makes in the range of $90,000 a year, get $90,000 to invest?).

When interviewed subsequent to the trial, at least one juror did acknowledge that Castro was no saint. But another one actually said that no charges should have been placed against Castro in the first place.

Huh?

Certainly Castro was the star attraction. But I also give his attorney, Brian McMonagle, great credit in selling (I'm sorry, I mean arguing) the defense of entrapment to the jury. He was brilliant. But he's also a defense attorney, so he is more thin-skinned than I am. When he reads this column his first reaction will be "the a------ wasn't even there." I was not there. And I am glad I was not there because I would have gotten nauseous at the transparency of it all.

But as good as McMonagle was, he did forget one thing: The violin section of the Philadelphia Orchestra (it has nothing to do now anyway) serenading Castro as he gave his performance of shame and self-immolation.

Federal prosecutors have not decided whether to retry Castro on the eight counts on which the jury was deadlocked.

They should, because it's a general rule of thumb that such a star turn is never quite as triumphant the second time around.

But that Castro is good.

Damn good.

Buzz Bissinger is a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter, the author of the best-seller "Friday Night Lights" and a contributing editor at Vanity Fair. His column will appear from time to time. Contact him at buzz.bissinger@gmail.com .