The Man-Child In The Men's Room

By Ralph Cipriano
for BigTrial.net

When you cover a trial, you run into everybody in the men's room.

The prosecutors, the defense lawyers. Even the defendant, Rufus Seth Williams.

Talk about an uncomfortable situation. There I was face to face at the sink with the guy I've been ripping for the past five years.

 But to my surprise, he actually wanted to talk.

It hasn't been much of a relationship.

On my end, as I mentioned previously, I just rip the D.A. for the shocking things he's done, things that nobody else in the media would call him on.

I've blasted him for publishing an irresponsible grand jury report about the Catholic Church that was riddled with more than 20 factual errors; a bogus grand jury report that passed off as gospel the fraudulent fables told by "Billy Doe."

I've taken him to task for trashing the reputations of six narcotics officers without a shred of proof. And for turning loose more than 800 drug dealers arrested by those same cops, similarly without any evidence of police misconduct.

I've castigated him for not prosecuting perpetrators of domestic abuse, because it might lower his conviction rate at election time.

And his response for five straight years has been remarkably consistent -- he just stonewalls me.

Silence, usually from him, and often from his spokespeople.

When I did run into the D.A. at press conferences, he would usually say hello to many other reporters by name, and then he would make a point of stiffing me.

So. when I was covering his political corruption trial, the day after I called him a sleaze ball and a shakedown artist in print, when I ran into him in the men's room, I did not expect Rufus Seth Williams to thank me for my work.

But he did. What he was happy about was that I had publicly expressed skepticism about the relatively paltry official acts that the feds had accused him of selling his office for. In exchange for the gifts he was taking as a "thankful beggar." Freebies such as free airplane tickets, a chocolate-colored sofa and a beat-up old Jaguar convertible.

We've never been formally introduced. But in the men's room, it was the D.A. who initiated the pleasantries.

Fancy meeting you here, he said with a big smile.

We talked about the trial. He told me that his defense lawyers, Tom Burke and Trevan Borum, were old friends who had stood by him. Two guys he had met back in 1992, on the first day they all reported to the D.A.'s office as brand new assistant district attorneys.

The next day of the trial, I wrote about Mohammed Ali, the shady businessman who was allegedly bribing the D.A. Ali had more than $200 million in his bank account; the feds had the Jordanian native and frequent flyer under surveillance as a suspected money launderer. But the feds never charged Ali with money-laundering after he agreed to become a cooperating witness against the D.A. That was the real quid pro quo in the case, Tom Burke told the jury.

When I wrote about that, and Seth was so happy he actually came over, this time in the courtroom, addressed me by name [for the first time in six years], and shook my hand. And then he thanked me again.

On trial for his life, Rufus Seth Williams figured he still had the touch. One on one, with somebody who'd been ripping him for five straight years, he thought he was still such a charmer that he could play me.

Amazing. I wound up thinking to myself, and not for the first time, that this wasn't a mature individual I was dealing with. This was a man child, a flimflam artist, the worst kind of con man who actually believes his own B.S.

Someone who never accepts responsibility for his actions.

Someone who always blames others.

Someone who doesn't even consider, let alone understand, the consequences of his actions when it comes to hurting other people.

Even when he sends an innocent priest off to jail, where he dies, as in the case of Father Charles Engelhardt.

Rufus Seth Williams is somebody who thinks he can always con anybody, no matter what. And get away with it.

From that angle, the trial of Seth Williams was an immensely satisfying public spectacle. Because for perhaps the first time in his life, the man child was held responsible for his actions. Even though in his last moments on the public stage he was still trying to play everybody. "Little Sethie," as Michael Weiss referred to him, was doing his crying act about not having any money left, and no car, only a bicycle to peddle around with.

 But this time he didn't get away with it; this time, a judge refused to buy it.

"I don't believe you," Judge Paul S. Diamond told the man child. You have no credibility, the judge said. That's when the judge ordered the marshals to take Williams into custody.

And the man child, who had had been coddled all his life, now has almost four months to sit alone in his 8 x 10 cell at the SHU. Where, without any cell phones or computers to distract him, and only one visitor a week, he will have plenty of time to ponder the consequences of his actions.

For that reason, it was satisfying to see the man-child finally held accountable. Keep in mind that eight years ago, Rufus Seth Williams, then a candidate for D.A., was hauled into the city's Election Court and temporarily kicked off the ballot, after he got in trouble for playing with his mother's credit cards and screwing up his campaign finances.

He learned nothing. Instead, over the next eight years, he kept doing the same things. And taking money and freebies from lowlife friends like Mohammad Ali and Michael Weiss. Because he thought he would get away with it forever, because of who he was.

My overriding thought: how on earth did this irresponsible man-child get to be the highest law enforcement officer in Philadelphia? How many people knew he was a fraud, and worse, a criminal, but said nothing?

That's when his trial makes me sick. Because the media and the government can now pretend that the corruption of Rufus Seth Williams has been hermetically sealed; confined to a few sordid relationships with a couple of sleaze ball business guys.

And that when it came to justice, somehow this completely corrupt individual who would sell his office and steal from his own mother always did the right thing.

The real story is that he probably contaminated everything he touched. And that the damage he did to the district attorney's office, and to justice in this city, may be incalculable.

And now, thanks to a chain of events set in motion by the corruption of Rufus Seth Williams, Larry Krasner, a Black Lives Matter ideologue, is about to take over as our new D.A.

And plunge the city further into lawlessness.

It's not enough that Rufus Seth Williams staged a with hunt with the Catholic Church, and used a fraudulent victim to send four innocent men to jail.

It's not enough that Williams smeared six narcotics officers and irresponsibly freed more than 800 drug dealers, so they could collect millions of dollars in cash from the taxpayers, and commit more crimes.

It's not enough that Williams wouldn't prosecute perpetrators of domestic violence, even though the cops had suspects in custody, because he was worried about lowering his conviction rate.

Now, the city of Philadelphia is prepared to sink even lower with Larry Krasner as D.A.

We're replacing a criminal with a lawyer who has devoted his life to setting as many criminals free as possible.

And the media and the government get to pretend that the only thing Seth Williams ever did wrong was to help himself to a few free vacations, a free sofa, and a beat-up old Jaguar.

Everybody's off the hook. While we're about to sink even lower into the abyss.