Former Chicago Ald. Edward Burke will learn his fate soon as his sentencing hearing is underway Monday in a corruption case that rocked city politics and ended his storied and controversial six-decade career.
Burke walked into the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse shortly after 9:15 a.m., dressed in a dark suit, green tie and black pocket square, passing a horde of news cameras in the lobby without comment. He was accompanied by his wife, former Illinois Supreme Court Justice Anne Burke.
Meanwhile, people hoping to get into U.S. District Judge Virginia Kendall’s main courtroom on the 25th floor were already assembling, including Burke’s former ward aide, Peter Andrews, who was acquitted of extortion charges at the trial in December.
Burke, 80, was convicted by a jury in December of racketeering conspiracy, bribery and attempted extortion in a series of schemes to use his considerable City Hall clout to try and win business from developers for his private property tax law firm.
Among them were efforts to woo the New York-based developers of the $600 million renovation of the Old Post Office, extorting the Texas owners of a Burger King who were seeking to renovate a restaurant in Burke’s 14th Ward, and intervening on behalf of a developer in Portage Park who wanted help getting a pole sign approved for a new Binny’s Beverage Depot location.
Burke was also found guilty of threatening to hold up a fee increase for the Field Museum because he was angry the museum had ignored an internship application from his goddaughter, who is the daughter of former 32nd Ward Ald. Terry Gabinski, Burke’s longtime friend.
Kendall has a wide range of options when it comes to fashioning a punishment for Burke.
Prosecutors have asked for 10 years in prison, saying Burke’s schemes, many of which were captured on undercover wiretapped recordings, show he was no novice when it came to graft, but a savvy and sophisticated professional when it came to identifying his marks.
Burke’s legal team, meanwhile, has asked for an alternative to prison such as home confinement, arguing he’s in ill health and that his lapses do not erase the life of a “fundamentally decent man” who did a lot of good for his city over a six-decade career.
After attorneys make their arguments, all eyes will be on Burke, who will have an opportunity to speak to the judge directly. He’s not required to do so, and judges typically assure defendants they will not hold their silence against them.
If Burke does choose to speak, the notably loquacious parliamentarian might be forced to walk a fine line, apologizing but perhaps stopping short of admitting guilt, as he’s expected to appeal his conviction to a higher court.
Kendall cleared the case for sentencing in a 47-page ruling late Friday denying Burke’s requests for a new trial or outright acquittal on key counts, acknowledging Burke’s “storied career in Chicago politics” but standing solidly behind the verdicts.
In fact, it is the context of Burke’s powerful political career that provides support for jurors’ verdicts on some of the counts, Kendall wrote, such as the guilty findings related to his tempestuous exchanges with Field Museum officials.
“Those same words spoken by a layperson could possibly constitute blowing off steam. But spoken by the longest-serving alderman and Chairman of the Committee on Finance during a phone call seeking acquiescence for their pending fee increase — that he had previously opposed — means the implications and consequences are night and day,” Kendall wrote.
“That is to say, a jury could reasonably conclude that Burke knew what he was doing and how his words affected (the museum officials), who ultimately kowtowed to Burke’s threats.”
The sentence requested by the U.S. attorney’s office would mean that Burke could very well die in prison. But a lengthy term behind bars is warranted, prosecutors say, given the “mountain” of evidence in the case — including hundreds of undercover recordings — that captured Burke in his own words and make it “obvious that Burke was no novice when it came to corruption.”
“Burke operated as a seasoned professional when it came to identifying new potential clients for his law firm and exploiting his power and position in order to secure their business,” prosecutors wrote in a recent court filing asking for 121 months behind bars.
To bolster their argument about the cost of Burke’s crimes, prosecutors estimated the overall financial loss he caused amounted to nearly $830,000.
Lawyers for Burke, meanwhile, argued the trial evidence showed Burke “did not receive a single penny” from his offenses, “nor did he cause any serious financial harm to any party.” Even the witnesses who were allegedly being shaken down testified Burke’s demeanor was “respectful, professional, and friendly — never aggressive, threatening, nor intimidating,” Burke’s filing stated.
They also have submitted an avalanche of character letters from friends, family and clergy, as well as current and former politicians, judges and others in the legal community.
Burke’s high-profile, six-week trial featured some 38 witnesses and more than 100 secretly recorded videos and wiretapped recordings, offering a fascinating behind-the-scenes look at one of Chicago’s top political power brokers at work.
At the heart of the case were dozens of wiretapped phone calls and secretly recorded meetings made by Daniel Solis, the former 25th Ward alderman who turned FBI mole after being confronted in 2016 with his own wrongdoing.
In closing arguments, prosecutors put up on large video screens a series of now-notorious statements made by Burke on the recordings. Among them: “The cash register has not rung yet,” “They can go (expletive) themselves,” and “Did we land the tuna?”
Regardless of what Burke’s final sentence is, Monday’s hearing will provide a coda to the downfall of a political titan.
The hearing is among the most anticipated proceedings in years in Chicago’s federal court, a building that has seen countless politicians, both Republicans and Democrats, handed prison terms, a veritable parade of alderpersons, county commissioners, state representatives, senators, governors and even a former speaker of the U.S. House.
But perhaps none wielded so much power for so long as Burke, the head of the vaunted Finance Committee who not only worked the city’s purse strings but also was a shrewd ward boss, political tactician and judicial slate-maker.
jmeisner@chicagotribune.com
rlong@chicagotribune.com
mcrepeau@chicagotribune.com
