D.A. Leaves Court In Handcuffs

By Ralph Cipriano
for BigTrial.net

Rufus Seth Williams glanced nervously over his shoulder at the two U.S. Marshals lurking behind his chair at the defense table.

Judge Paul S. Diamond held up a 14-page guilty plea agreement.

"I have a guilty plea from the highest law enforcement officer in the city who betrayed and sold his office," the judge said. "I am appalled by  the evidence I heard yesterday."

The judge talked about how the district attorney of Philadelphia, under penalty of perjury, had handed in six amended financial statements that were "riddled with falsehoods." Then, the judge announced he was revoking bail because he didn't believe the defendant had any credibility left. The marshals put the cuffs on the startled Williams and led him out of the courtroom in disgrace as his ex-wife began crying.

For Rufus Seth Williams, it was all over. No more chauffeured rides around the city with his big, burly bodyguards in brand new black SUVs. No more deep-tissue massages and deep-pore facials at the Sporting Club. No more cigars at the Union League.

Williams, who waited until today to resign as D.A., was off to jail. Specifically, an 8 x 10 cell in the Special Housing Unit on the top floor of the federal prison at 7th and Market. It's a place where, for nearly four months, Williams, as a former law enforcement official, will wear an orange jumpsuit, and be in solitary confinement in  his cell for 23 hours a day on weekdays, and 24 hours on weekends. Until he is sentenced by Judge Diamond on Oct. 24th.

The day began with a palpable buzz on the 14th floor of the federal courthouse. The phones of reporters lit up with text messages. The rumor was that the political corruption trial of Rufus Seth Williams, about to start its eighth day, was going to end abruptly.

Because early this morning, around 1:30 a.m., Assistant U.S. Attorney Robert A. Zauzmer got a phone call from Thomas Burke, the D.A.'s lawyer.

The D.A., who had been talking with his lawyers all night after the evidence piled up against him, was ready to cut a deal.

When court began at 9:30 a.m., the prosecutors and FBI agents were seen smiling and chatting. Over at the defense table, lawyers Burke and Trevan Borum were looking grim. And Rufus Seth Williams was nowhere to be found.

Nearly 90 minutes later, court finally began. The judge announced a guilty plea had been agreed to by the lawyers in the case. The judge asked Williams a set of embarrassing questions to make sure the defendant was in his right mind.

In answer to the judge's questions, Williams said the only drugs he was talking was a prescription for high blood pressure and a baby aspirin.

He did say he was under the care of a psychologist "to deal with the stress of everything going on with my trial." Williams told the judge he was "very satisfied" with Burke's representation.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Zauzmer stood up and read the plea bargain deal in court. Williams was pleading guilty to count one of the indictment, a violation of the U.S. Travel Act where Williams traveled to a Punta Cana resort with businessman Mohammad Ali, in the process of taking a bribe while he was plotting take other bribes.

Ali, a suspected money launderer, was bribing Williams with two free vacations in Punta Cana, and a free $3,000 sofa, in exchange for an official act. The act: Williams agreed to "look into" the guilty plea of a friend of Ali's on a drug arrest. But the D.A. wound up doing nothing to keep the friend out of jail.

Williams, however, did get the two free vacations and the chocolate-colored sofa.

"I am merely a thankful beggar and don't want to overstep my bounds in asking," Williams had texted Ali, when he accepted the offer of a second free trip to Punta Cana. But, the D.A. texted Ali, "we will gladly go."

In exchange, the government agreed to drop counts 2 through 29 of the 29-count federal indictment, although the catch was Williams had to admit that all the allegations against him laid out in those counts were true.

Williams admitted to taking more bribes in the form of $9,000 in cash and a check from Ali. And Williams admitted to taking more bribes from Michael Weiss, the owner of Woody's, a Center city gay bar. The bribes came in the form of 16 round-trip airplane tickets to San Diego, Las Vegas, and Florida, along with other gifts that included money and a 1997 Jaguar XK8 convertible.

In exchange for the bribes, Williams admitted that he did officials acts on Weiss's behalf. Such as naming Weiss, a convicted felon, as a special advisor to the D.A.'s office, and giving him a badge. And writing a letter on the D.A.'s official stationery to the California Board of Alcoholic Beverage Control, in support of Weiss' application to hang onto the ownership of a San Diego bar, despite his felony tax conviction.

Williams also admitted he stole $13,000 in income from his mother that was supposed to go to a Catholic nursing home where his mother was a patient. And Williams admitted to pocketing a $10,000 check that friends of his mother donated, to pay for his mother's nursing home expenses.

So Williams was looking at a sentence of 5 years, followed by probation for three years, along with a fine of $250,000 and $64,840 in forfeitures.

As part of the plea bargain, Williams agreed to resign as district attorney.

Is that effective immediately, the judge asked.

"Humbly, sincerely, and effective immediately," Williams replied.

The judge gave Williams a chance to speak.

"I'm just very sorry for all this trouble," Williams said.

It was time to argue over bail. Burke claimed that Williams was no flight risk because he was "deeply in debt," and "he doesn't even have a car."

Williams, trying to explain why he wasn't going anywhere, talked about his close attachments to his three daughters, aged 29, 17 and 13. He told the judge he was close to his ex-wife, and shared joint custody of his two youngest daughters.

Williams told the judge he had no more than $150 to $200 in his bank account, despite an annual salary of $170,000.

Williams claimed he owned no credit cards. The only car at his house, he said, was a 1991 Ford Crown Victoria formerly owned by his father that hadn't been driven in eight years.

Asked by the prosecutor how he was going to get around without an official car, Williams replied, "I have about four bicycles at my home." And his house, which is up for sale, the defendant said, was located just three blocks away from a SEPTA station.

Asked by the prosecutor how he was going to survive without an income, Williams said, "I'm gonna try and figure that out."

But the judge had a different idea -- sending Williams off to jail immediately in handcuffs.

And that was just the start of it.

Over at the holding tank at the SHU, Williams will be strip-searched, subjected to a body cavity search, and then fingerprinted.

A doctor will check him out. Williams will be handed a "roll," prison lingo for a blanket, sheet, towel and a bottle of shampoo.

For at least the first 10 days, Williams will be allowed no phone calls. Then, he will be allowed one 15-minute phone call a month. And one visit a week, where he will have to talk to visitors through a glass.

No cell phones, no computers.

His 8 by 10 cell at the SHU features a shower, desk, frosted window, and a combination toilet and sink. On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays, Williams will be handed a razor, and allowed to shave.

His weekly snacks are limited to: three Snickers bars, three small packets of cubed chicken breasts, two honey buns and one box of Ritz crackers.

Once a day, the correctional officers will knock on Williams cell and ask him if he wants an hour of "rec" -- short for recreation. If he accepts, Williams will spend an hour in a 6 x 12 steel cage where he can walk in circles, do pushups and sit-ups.

"You're like a fucking dog in a kennel," was how one former SHU inmate described it.

One longtime friend of Williams who witnessed the spectacle of the former D.A. being led away in handcuffs, took it hard.

"What you saw today," he said, "was a man hitting rock bottom."

Even if that man was Rufus Seth Williams, the guy who sold his office and disgraced law enforcement.

 Even though he had it coming, it was still not a pretty sight.