Feds allege ex-Illinois Speaker Madigan brushed aside 'quid pro quo' red flag in scheme to get developers' money
Published in News & Features
CHICAGO — Alderman-turned-FBI mole Daniel Solis held a huge red flag in front of Michael Madigan, prosecutors said Thursday, when during a wiretapped phone call Solis uttered a radioactive phrase: “quid pro quo.”
Madigan had multiple chances to object during the conversation, Assistant U.S. Attorney Diane MacArthur told jurors, but instead the then-speaker barreled right through, continuing to arrange a meeting with developers he hoped would give his law firm some business.
“Solis was not subtle when he was talking to Madigan about this arrangement,” MacArthur said. “He was so unsubtle that it could have brought a very quick and immediate reaction from Michael Madigan. Michael Madigan could have said ‘I’m not doing this, Danny, stop, I don’t do business that way’ … Madigan said nothing. He said ‘yeah, OK.’”
The marathon closing arguments in Madigan’s corruption trial continued Thursday, with prosecutors detailing evidence about Madigan’s allegedly corrupt attempts to get business for his private law firm – or, as MacArthur called it, the “Make Mike Madigan Money Plan.”
Madigan allegedly leveraged his public position along with Solis’s power as alderman in a scheme to get business from developers of a West Loop high-rise and as well as businessmen who wanted to build on a Chinatown parking lot.
And Solis, who became an astonishingly prolific mole after being confronted with his own slew of misdeeds, is central to proving prosecutors’ allegations.
He became a “walking microphone,” MacArthur said, and captured Madigan and his co-defendant Michael McClain in relatively unguarded moments.
One of those moments was the “quid pro quo” call, a 2017 conversation in which Solis told Madigan the West Loop developers understood the arrangement.
Madigan, who testified on his own behalf earlier this month that he was surprised and concerned about what Solis was proposing, did not give Solis any kind of pushback for about three weeks, until meeting with Solis face to face and telling him not to use the phrase “quid pro quo.” Solis had an expression on his face that showed Madigan he had been properly chastised, Madigan testified.
But, MacArthur said, that doesn’t fit with what jurors have heard about Madigan — that he was a prolific holder of grudges, for one thing.
“Solis has just talked about an illegal trade,” MacArthur said. “… Mr. Madigan, who has held on to those grudges for years, is going to forgive somebody from the expression on his face? What Mr. Madigan said to you on the witness stand, that was just not the truth.”
Closing arguments in Madigan’s landmark case are now in their second day, with prosecutors continuing an initial presentation that includes a PowerPoint presentation with more than 800 slides.
Prosecution arguments are slated to continue into Friday morning, followed by Madigan’s defense argument and arguments by a lawyer for McClain. The jury is expected to begin deliberating sometime next week.
Madigan, 82, a Southwest Side Democrat, and McClain, 77, a longtime lobbyist from downstate Quincy, are charged in a 23-count indictment alleging that Madigan’s vaunted state and political operations were run like a criminal enterprise to increase his power and enrich himself and his associates.
In addition to alleging the scheme to pressure developers, the indictment accuses Madigan and McClain of bribery schemes involving ComEd and AT&T Illinois.
The trial represents the apex of a long federal corruption investigation that has already resulted in convictions for several other Madigan-adjacent figures over the past few years. But Madigan is inarguably the biggest target.
The AT&T and ComEd allegations were the focus of closing arguments earlier Thursday. Michael Madigan was so important to ComEd’s legislative agenda in Springfield that the utility was willing to bend over backwards to make the then-powerful House speaker happy, showering his cronies with do-nothing contracts, giving special treatment to 13th Ward internship applicants, and putting a Madigan-recommended candidate on its board of directors, Assistant U.S. Attorney Julia Schwartz told jurors.
Schwartz played a wiretapped recording where then-ComEd CEO Anne Pramaggiore told Madigan’s longtime confidant and co-defendant, Michael McClain, just how valuable the speaker’s influence had been.
“You take good care of me and so does our friend, and I will do the best I can to take care of you,” Pramaggiore said in May 2018, using McClain’s euphemism for Madigan.
Schwartz highlighted the comment and asked the jury: What is the one thing that Madigan did to take “good care” of ComEd?
“Their legislation,” Schwartz said. “That’s the corrupt exchange.”
Another focus of Schwartz’s argument Thursday was the appointment of former McPier boss Juan Ochoa to ComEd’s board, which Madigan was allegedly pushing to help him politically with Ochoa’s good friend, then-U.S. Rep. Luis Gutierrez, a Chicago Democrat with a large Latino backing.
By helping Ochoa, a onetime political nemesis, the speaker benefited personally by getting the support of Gutierrez, “a powerful congressman who had endorsed (Madigan)” in a recent election, Schwartz said.
Schwartz said Madigan’s testimony in his own defense that he was just asking McClain for “status” updates on the Ochoa appointment and really didn’t care what the outcome was makes no sense.
To emphasize Madigan’s level of involvement, Schwartz played a series of wiretapped calls over an eight-month period in 2018 and 2019, including one where Madigan told McClain that once the appointment became official, he’d like to call Gutierrez first.
“Gutierrez is the only reason Madigan would talk to Ochoa,” Schwartz told the jury. “He doesn’t care about Ochoa. He cares about himself.”
Schwartz said in the end, the question isn’t whether Juan Ochoa was qualified for the position, but why everyone pushed so hard to get it done.
“And the answer is clear,” Schwartz said. “Madigan wanted it. Madigan controlled ComEd’s legislation. And Juan Ochoa got the appointment …That is a bribe.”
But Schwartz said Madigan’s influence over ComEd hires went far beyond just Ochoa. She also reminded jurors of the “barrage” of emails McClain sent to ComEd officials over many years pressuring them to hire Madigan recommendations, regardless of whether they passed entrance exams or even responded to recruiters trying to reach out.
“The sheer number of requests … the fact they were often unqualified candidates and these folks had connections to Madigan, that goes to motive here,” Schwartz said, referring to Madigan’s “sense of entitlement.”
“Madigan is using ComEd as his own personal piggy bank,” Schwartz said.
One Madigan referral, Kathy Laski, struggled during job interviews yet still had been offered and declined five different jobs at ComEd, Schwartz said, but the company pushed hard anyway to find her something since she was a Madigan request.
“There is still a very strong need to bring in,” then-ComEd executive Fidel Marquez emailed a coworker, who in response pressed him to say who exactly Laski’s connection was. Marquez responded: “Laski came to us from (the) Speaker.”
In his testimony earlier this month, Schwartz noted, Madigan merely said he knew Laski from meeting her at a neighborhood block party some years before. Only on cross-examination did he note that Laski’s husband, James Laski, used to be the alderman of the 23rd Ward, part of Madigan’s Southwest Side power base.
“He kept that detail from you and that was strategic,” Schwartz told jurors. “ … there were details withheld and withheld purposefully.”
ComEd also reserved a certain number of summer internship slots for people from Madigan’s 13th Ward; McClain often pushed candidates who did not meet the company’s GPA requirements or otherwise didn’t meet normal ComEd standards, Schwartz said.
“The reason they were treated differently is because they came from Madigan’s ward,” Schwartz said. “If that sounds upside down, it’s because it was. An annual carve-out for a certain number of jobs … that’s not lobbying, that’s not building goodwill, that’s a bribe.”
Schwartz also took the jury through the lone bribery conspiracy charge involving AT&T Illinois, which alleged both Madigan and McClain arranged for a consulting gig for Eddie Acevedo that funneled $22,500 to the former state representative even though he did no work for AT&T.
Schwartz said McClain first asked about getting Acevedo on the same day Madigan gave word he was willing to meet with AT&T about its legislation to end mandated landline service, which stood to save the company millions. McClain was soon assigned the bill, referred to by its acronym COLR, as a “special project” for the speaker, she said.
Schwartz also recapped testimony from several witnesses, as well as emails and wiretaps, showing that Acevedo was well-known for his boorish behavior in Springfield and that no one at AT&T thought he would bring value as a consultant.
“Eddie Acevedo was toxic,” Schwartz said. “He has a serious alcohol problem. He was known to become belligerent, he insulted Republican members, everything you did not want in a consultant, yet AT&T hired him anyway.”
Schwartz noted Acevedo “didn’t have to interview” for the position, and never submitted a résumé. In fact, “nobody even talked about the terms with him until they gave him the offer,” she said.
“This was a bogus arrangement,” Schwartz said. “This was a contract that Madigan controlled. He knew that it was intended to be a bribe, as did McClain.”
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