The Fence - Dick Lehr [120]
The agent asked one last time: Did he want to change anything?
“Ma’am, I don’t wish to recant any part of my statement.”
Ted Merritt seized on the agent’s report as a gift. “He obviously didn’t tell the truth when he was asked to,” Merritt said later. Kenny even seemed to be mocking the federal investigators, expecting them to accept a statement they considered preposterous. In short order, Kenny Conley became the cop Merritt would target and convert into a cooperating witness against chief suspects Burgio, Williams, and Daley. Forget about Richie Walker or possibly Ian Daley—they were old news, so to speak, and the racial politics were far from ideal. Both were black, and how would it look for federal prosecutors to be squeezing black cops in the beating of another black cop? Forget other members of Mike’s gang unit, such as Gary Ryan or Joe Teahan, given their association with Mike and the fact that their accounts, however conflicting, were so complicated.
Instead, Kenny emerged from the margins of the case to take center stage. He was a cleaner hit: the muscular white cop from “Southie,” built like a brick, standing in the way of justice in the beating of a black cop. Right out of central casting for a prosecutorial drama set in Boston. Choosing Kenny meant that Merritt could exploit the neighborhood’s image as the bigoted enclave violently opposed to busing to desegregate the city’s schools. He could demonize “Southie loyalty” to explain why a cop like Kenny Conley would stonewall the feds to protect fellow officers. Look at Jimmy Burgio; he’s from Southie too. Dave Williams? He and Conley were in the same class at the police academy. To Merritt, Kenny was the standard-bearer for the blue wall and its destructive and misguided basic principle: Never squeal on your own.
Merritt moved quickly following the FBI interview to get Kenny before the federal grand jury. The subpoena ordered him to appear May 29. Merritt called ahead of time to say he’d arranged to immunize Kenny with a court order saying Kenny would not be prosecuted for any information and statements he provided the grand jury. In theory, the grant of immunity was an investigatory tool to compel truthful testimony from witnesses reluctant to testify, often because of their own criminal liability. With this legal shield, the witness was free to testify honestly without fear of being charged afterward. The only exception was lying: Witnesses who lied faced perjury charges.
Kenny was planning to appear voluntarily before the grand jury. He didn’t want any deals. No taking the Fifth. No grant of immunity. He thought witnesses who were immunized before testifying had something to hide; he wasn’t like that. But no lawyer in his right mind allows a client to go before a criminal grand jury without immunity once it’s been offered; it would be tantamount to legal malpractice. When he appeared on May 29 to testify, Kenny went along with the government’s offer and was immunized.
Merritt had set a perjury trap. Kenny could either tell the grand jury the story Merritt believed Kenny was hiding—an eyewitness account of the Cox beating—or, if he insisted on sticking to that outlandish tale about not seeing Mike, then Merritt would see that Kenny was indicted for perjury. Merritt, of course, was hoping Kenny would fold right away. Then, riding Kenny’s new testimony, Merritt could go after Mike’s assailants. But if Kenny didn’t, Merritt hoped he’d come around once criminal charges were filed. If not then, Merritt hoped he’d get it when the reality of going on trial hit him. Merritt would contact him periodically to let him know the case would vanish if he changed his tune. The prosecutor was a patient man; he’d keep up the pressure and wait Kenny out. Not one to second-guess himself, Merritt never wondered: What if I’m wrong about Kenny Conley?
Kenny