Tribune editorial
George Ryan, convicted felon
Published April 17, 2006, 3:37 PM CDT
"Will some of the people I appoint stray off the right path? That is a
fear that haunts me. No one is perfect. We all make mistakes. We all
have been guilty of errors in judgment. ... But you can rest assured
that I will do my very best to honor your trust in me. If I make a
mistake, I'll tell you and we'll try again." Gov. George Ryan in his
Jan. 11, 1999, inaugural speech.
Late in the 1990s, two young federal prosecutors in Chicago prepared a
two-page memo that outlined allegations of corruption in the office of
George Ryan, then the Illinois secretary of state. The prosecutors had
evidence that unqualified truckers were bribing Ryan's employees to
obtain driver's licenses. Just as bad, somebody on Ryan's staff had
thwarted an internal investigation of these dangerous criminal acts.
The memo prompted piercing questions about a horror that had occurred
on Election Day, 1994. That was the day Rev. Duane "Scott" Willis and
his wife Janet voted-their church was the polling place-before driving
to Wisconsin with most of their family to visit one of their sons. For
Illinois secretary of state, both Willises selected George Ryan.
Later that day, on a Milwaukee expressway, an accident that involved
one of those illicit truckers incinerated six Willis children. Ryan
would later insist-angrily and often-that the trucker, Ricardo Guzman,
had been legally licensed. No problem here in Illinois.
In 1998, George Ryan was elected governor of Illinois on the strength
of that lie about the Willis case. An internal memo later established
that, just eight days after the Willis tragedy, at least four
officials in Ryan's office were aware that "there is a strong
possibility that this individual obtained his [commercial driver's
license] illegally." Elsewhere at least three other people died in
crashes involving truckers improperly licensed by Ryan's staff.
That 1998 campaign for the job Ryan coveted set the pattern: To
distance himself from the immolation of the Willis children, Ryan
concocted the strategy of deflection, denial and dishonesty that today
rests in ruin. The conviction Monday of the disgraced former governor
on all counts certifies him as a federal felon.
That verdict of guilt in U.S. District Judge Rebecca Pallmeyer's
wood-paneled courtroom puts Ryan squarely at the cold heart of a
corruption scandal with a death toll.
"Ryan is charged with betraying the citizens of Illinois for over a
decade on state business, both large and small. By giving friends free
rein over state employees and state business to make profits-and by
steering those profits to his friends and, at times, his
family-defendant Ryan sold his office." U.S. Atty. Patrick Fitzgerald
of Chicago on Dec. 17, 2003, the date of Ryan's indictment.
In the years since that initial two-page memo was handed to a
supervisor in the U.S. attorney's office here, the federal probe known
as Operation Safe Road has become a reliable font of ever more noxious
revelations about the Illinois culture of political sleaze:
Bad enough that Ryan's minions sold driver's licenses to bribers-some
of that blood money wound up in Ryan's campaign coffers. Bad enough
that Ryan gave his pals illicit influence over the conduct of state
business-according to prosecutors, the cronies themselves pocketed a
combined $4.77 million in sweetheart deals. Bad enough they rewarded
Ryan with gifts and favors-some of that lucre went to Ryan's family
members, spreading a now indelible stain from the discredited governor
to his loved ones.
Ryan has claimed all along that he did nothing wrong, and that he knew
nothing about the crimes of his compatriots. His evident attitude
toward his own corrupt acts mirrored the phrase his lawyer frequently
used during the trial's closing arguments: "Who cares?"
Twelve jurors cared. Twelve jurors, acting for the 12 million people
of Illinois. Twelve jurors devoted to the notion-plainly novel to
Ryan-that citizens are entitled to the honest services of the public
officials they elect to office.
Much has been made of those jurors' occasionally troubled
deliberations. If defense attorneys see grounds for appeal, so be it.
That process may drag on for years. In the meantime, the defense
lawyers have to sit through Judge Pallmeyer's sentencing of George
Ryan, convicted felon.
"The only way to protect the public from the ongoing problem of public
corruption and to promote respect for the rule of law is to impose
strict penalties on all defendants who engage in such conduct." U.S.
District Judge Ruben Castillo of Chicago in his Jan. 25, 2006, opinion
in a Cicero public corruption case.
Ryan and his crony Larry Warner are the 74th and 75th defendants
convicted in Operation Safe Road since November of 1998. One other
defendant's case is pending, another's was dismissed, and two fugitive
defendants are still being sought. Remarkably, not one person charged
in this investigation has been acquitted.
This case caps years of extraordinary work on Safe Road by agents from
the U.S. Postal Service, the Internal Revenue Service, the U.S.
Department of Transportation and the FBI. It caps extraordinary work,
too, by the team of federal prosecutors led by Patrick Collins, one
author of that original two-page memo.
Through his actions and inactions, George Ryan essentially destroyed
the Republican Party in Illinois. He also destroyed himself.
This was a man acclaimed by many people for his moratorium on capital
punishment-congratulated by world leaders such as Nelson Mandela,
honored by the lighting of the Coliseum in Rome, nominated for the
Nobel Peace Prize.
Yet this also is a man hounded from office because, by the end of one
term as governor, the stench of corruption on his watch rendered him
untouchable. The people of Illinois, though long inured to their
state's culture of political sleaze, saw his re-election as
intolerable.
Attention turns to other federal assaults on that culture. In this
state's, this city's, corridors of power, one question softly echoes:
Who's next?
Twelve conscientious jurors weighed the evidence and declared Ryan a
criminal. Corruption is his epitaph. Who's next?
"I hope very much to be a hero." George Ryan, at his 1999 inauguration.