In a basement auditorium decorated with the pictures of top Democrats, including Mayor Jerramiah Healy — whom Margolin and Sherman report was the most-prominent target of the complex and lengthy FBI investigation detailed in the book — the authors explained their own investigation into the case, including the many loose ends that have caused feverish speculation in Jersey City since the FBI made dozens of arrests on July 23, 2009.

After a brief discussion with Schundler, the authors took questions from the crowd, which was small but in rapt attention to the authors, who have won several investigative journalism awards for their work covering the McGreevey administration and the kickback syndicate at UMDNJ.

Earl Morgan, himself a veteran Jersey City reporter and columnist, asked incredulously about the fate of Harold “Bud” Demellier, Healy’s campaign manager in 2004 and 2009.

Demellier admitted to the authors that he took $20,000 from the FBI’s confidential witness, Solomon Dwek. The authors uncovered Dwek’s secret recording of a meeting with Demellier in his Hudson County government office. Demellier, however, claimed the money was a consulting fee and that the meeting took place over his lunch hour — and he was not yet been charged by the FBI or disciplined by his boss, Hudson County Executive Tom DeGise.

“We couldn’t figure it out,” Margolin said of Demellier, a longtime Hudson County political operative whose day job is county director of roads and public property, for which he earns $127,000 a year.

Rumors that Demellier agreed to cooperate with the FBI swirled through Jersey City in the days after the July 23, 2009, arrests that capped the sting. “Frankly, he was as cool as can be. He answered all our questions,” Margolin said, speculating that Demellier either became a witness or is “the one that got away.”

Margolin pointed out that former Assemblyman Daniel Van Pelt, an Ocean County Republican who was also arrested in the sting, tried to convince a jury that the money he took from Dwek was a legitimate consulting fee. The story failed to sway the jury, which convicted Van Pelt. In November, Van Pelt was sentenced to three years and five months in federal prison.

Morgan also asked about the rumors surrounding the deaths of two Jersey City political figures connected to the case. Days after the July 2009 arrests, Jack Shaw, a political fixer who was charged in the case but secretly agreed to cooperate with prosecutors, was found dead in his apartment at the Portside Towers in Paulus Hook.

Months early, Shaw had unknowingly provided the FBI access to its biggest target when he set up a meeting between Dwek, Mayor Healy and Healy’s campaign treasurer, Leona Beldini — who would be convicted and sentenced to prison for her role in funneling Dwek’s cash into Healy’s campaign accounts.

Shaw’s death sent speculation in the always-paranoid Jersey City political world into overdrive. Many were convinced Shaw was either killed or ordered to kill himself.

The medical examiner ruled that Shaw died of “valium toxicity,” but the cause of death was listed as unknown because investigators could not determine if Shaw overdosed intentionally or accidentally.

Margolin and Sherman seemed unconvinced that Shaw’s end came at anyone’s hands but his own.

Margolin referred to Shaw as a “walking physician’s desk reference” of ailments, and said Shaw was a lifelong smoker who was known to drink heavily and use cocaine. “Could it just be that his heart just said, ‘you’ve had enough, brother’?” Margolin said.

A secondary character in the case, former Jersey City councilman Tom Fricchione, died in late December 2009. Fricchione was never charged, but he was treasurer in the campaign of former West Side Councilman and Healy ally Phil Kenny, who admitted taking bribes from Dwek and was sentenced to prison.

Morgan asked about a rumor on the streets claiming that when paramedics found Fricchione, he was wired. The authors dismissed the rumor, based on their knowledge that the FBI no longer uses the sort of cumbersome recording equipment featured in the mafia movies of the 1970s and ’80s. Dwek’s camera and microphone, they said, was concealed in a single button on his shirt.

Margolin and Sherman said, however, that when they made a Freedom of Information Act request for Fricchione’s FBI file, the request was denied because the FBI stated the file was part of an “active criminal investigation.”

The authors also talked about Joe Doria’s involvement in the sting. Doria, the former mayor of Bayonne and director of the Department of Community Affairs under former Gov. Jon Corzine, had his home and office searched on July 23, 2009, but was never charged.

“Joe Doria was absolutely targeted by the feds,” Margolin said. He explained that Shaw told Dwek that Doria was someone who would take bribes, and Dwek gave Shaw $40,000 to pass on to Doria.

When Shaw was arrested by the FBI on the night of July 22, 2009, agents recovered $25,000 of the money — leading them to believe Doria had received the remaining $15,000. The searches did not turn up the cash, however, and Doria was not charged, although he did not escape unwounded. Doria was forced to resign his powerful cabinet office by Corzine, who is described in the book as shell-shocked by a sting that took down some of the governor’s most powerful friends in the Hudson County Democratic Party.

In addition addressing rumors about the open-ended questions remaining from the massive sting, the authors also discussed the difficulties of reporting on an active federal case about which no one involved has much of an incentive to talk.

Margolin and Sherman said prosecutors in the U.S. Attorney’s Office, FBI agents and defense attorneys were initially unwilling to cooperate with them. Margolin said that in the middle of their research, New Jersey U.S. Attorney Paul Fishman issued an edict forbidding federal law enforcement agents from talking to the authors.

In addition, the authors said they were not able to get the infamous tapes of Dwek’s meetings — including the one of Demellier doing business with the confidential witness in his county office — simply by asking for them.

“It was very difficult to get the tapes,” he said, adding that nothing that has not been released into evidence in federal court has been made available to the public — including almost all of the tapes, DVDs of which Margolin said take up an entire wall in the U.S. Attorney’s Newark offices.

Margolin and Sherman said they were able to piece together much of Dwek’s story through the records of his bankruptcy proceedings. Dwek was originally arrested by the FBI for trying to kite two $25 million checks in order to get a temporary cash infusion for a real estate Ponzi scheme. That case threw Dwek’s shady business dealings into bankruptcy court.

After too much poking around, however, the authors said the bankruptcy judge ordered those proceedings sealed as well.

“Use your common sense,” she implores the jury multiple times. ”You know he’s not being truthful.”

Moser continues her closing argument, clicking her way through PowerPoint page after PowerPoint page, breaking down the government’s case into video clips and block quotes of L. Harvey Smith’s own potentially incriminating words, aided by explanations of the laws that have allegedly been broken, written in blunt black background under white text. It is a highlight reel of everything that could be considered wrongdoing, a timeline of Smith’s mistakes and questionable decisions. 

More simply, she says, “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck …”

Moser interrupts her flow at times to mock some of the defense’s explanations of the government’s evidence, calling those moments “CYAs,” or “cover your backside” moments.

“Saying ‘I don’t do quid pro quo’ doesn’t mean a thing if your actions show that you do,” she says. “And just because Smith said he’s a ‘straight man’ doesn’t mean he is,” noting how Smith called state officials and state agencies to inquire about helping along Solomon Dwek’s fictitious real estate projects.

Moser also claims that these actions were above and beyond the government’s burden of proof of guilt. Smith only had to suggest — “with a word, with a wink or a nod,” as she says many times — that he would help them do something in exchange for the promised money, she tells the jury. The action itself didn’t have to be taken.

“There’s only one fair verdict, one common sense verdict, one logical verdict,” she says. “And that is to convict.”

Like the government, defense attorney Peter Willis has indictments of his own — but his all seem to be in pointing range of his client. 

First he directs an indictment at the prosecution, for jurisprudent cynicism, which he punctuates with finger points.

“They,” says Willis, his slow staccato taking its rare turn towards accusation, “accept ‘presumption of innocence’ because they have no choice.”

“They accept ‘reasonable doubt’ because they have to,” he says, pointing again to the prosecution’s table. 
“I,” he says, “embrace it.”

Also under Willis’ critical gaze are the FBI’s methods.

“Sting. That’s a great word. Sting operation. I guess that means the government went with a CW,” he says of Dwek, the cooperating witness who was helping the FBI in return for a deal on his own earlier financial crimes.

“He is the government’s arm to a certain degree,” Willis says of Dwek, the verbose executor of the FBI’s elaborate sting orchestration. ”He operates under the mandate of the government.”

“I’m not one to throw stones at the government,” he continues. “But you have no idea what it’s like when the federal government looks at you.”

And so begins Willis’ parsing of the FBI’s methods. Again maintaining that Dwek and Edward Cheatam were looking to “lure,” “tempt,” and “set-up” his client, he wonders how many times his client had to refuse Dwek’s offer of money before they would leave him alone.

“They said he came back,” says Willis of the prosecutors’ argument that Smith attended multiple meetings. “I say, why don’t you leave the man alone?” 

To highlight his point, he shows a video clip of Dwek talking to Cheatam after Smith told Dwek he doesn’t do “quid pro quo.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘no quid pro quo?’” Dwek says to Cheatam after Smith leaves the table. “The thing is,” Dwek later says, “like he doesn’t take cash, [and he wants] checks and names, what are we gonna do? How are we going to operate with this guy?” 

This, Willis says, shows the extent to which Dwek wanted to go to bring another corrupt politician to the government. Of Cheatam’s motivation, Willis says it was pure greed, noting Dwek’s lucrative payments for bringing politicians to meet with him.

“Maybe talk to him again and see if we can straighten him out,” Dwek says later on the video. “What’s [I don’t do quid pro quo] supposed to mean? You know I’m an investor, take care of me, I’ll take care of you, I mean come on, you know? Use any word you want, so.”

This law enforcement tactic is too much for Willis, who asks: “What’s our government doing here? They go out and test our morality now? Test our ethics? That’s the role of the government? I guess that’s what they think.”

“And if you say no, they come back because they want to hear no, no, no, no, no.”

But Willis, ever the showman, saves for the end something that had been left unresolved during witness testimony. 

“Would you like to be Sherlock Holmes for five minutes?” he asks the jury. “Would you?”

“Who wrote ‘Smith Team’ on those forms? It’s a mystery, right?”

Eugene Drayton, Smith’s campaign manager denied it, as had Smith, which was corroborated by a handwriting test.  

“No my friends, it’s not a mystery anymore,” he says as he pulls up an image of one of the completed money orders. Preparing for his Agatha Christie-like reveal, he asks the jury to look closely at the zoomed-in documents, pointing to the capital S on the money order. In particular, he draws attention to its peculiar swirl at the top of the letter, the top of the ‘S’ swooping downwards and almost meeting the letter again. And then Willis shows the ELEC form, filled out by Eric Martin, Smith’s former campaign treasurer who was responsible for filling out the document. The S on that form had a very similar appearance.

“Eric Martin perjured himself during his testimony,” Willis claims, grabbing the room’s attention. While no handwriting test has been given to Martin to prove this assertion, as noted during the prosecution’s later rebuttal, there were in fact similarities to the untrained eye. 

As Willis winds down, he addresses the indictment directly — in particular the notion that Smith was a “conspirator” with Cheatam and political operative Jack Shaw.

“If you are a co-conspirator you have to have the same intention, the same thinking,” he says. “Smith shared the same thinking when he returned the money? Don’t you get it? Because if you do, you’ll acquit. But if you buy what the government is selling, you’re going to convict.”

Jury deliberation begins this morning.

MORE SMITH TRIAL COVERAGE:

• Day Ten: ‘I Felt Panicky … and Queasy’
• Day Nine: Reenactments and Pat-Downs
• Day Eight: Smith Takes the Stand
• Day Seven: The Prosecution Rests with an Image
• Day Six: Contradictions, Clarifications and Misstatements
• Day Five: Edward Cheatam, Political Neophyte?
• Day Four: Video, Audio & the Discrepancy of Memory
• Day Three: Edward Cheatam Takes the Stand
• Day Two: Parsing the Meaning of ‘Lure’

He explains to the jury that Smith will be playing the part of Edward Cheatam, Smith’s former friend and the deliverer of the second envelope. In this scenario, the jury collectively plays the role of Smith. The waist-high separation between the jury and the courtroom floor is to be the open window. Smith, at Willis’s direction, leans towards the jury, his arms hanging into their jury box car and envelope casually in hand.

Smith then narrates the exchange, as he remembers it, that took place after the final meeting between Dwek, Smith, Cheatam and Jack Shaw, this time outside of the Malibu Diner in Hoboken on July 17, 2009. 

“We were talking, and like this,” explains Smith, flinging the envelope into the make-believe car, “he threw the envelope onto the backseat.”

The performance was meant to give life and context to the series of photographs — Government Exhibits 311, 312, 313, 314, and 315 — taken by Special Agent Robert Roman and his FBI surveillance unit. On their own, the photos look incriminating. 

Consider Exhibit 312: the group appears standing in a semi-circle, Dwek holding an envelope down by his leg but in plain sight, with Smith standing next to him. The image makes it hard to believe that Smith wasn’t joining in the group’s discussion, fully aware of what was going to happen next. After all, the envelope has the same look of the one that contained the first $5,000 Smith received. 

But Smith’s explanation of the photo, paired with the video evidence showing the amount of time it takes for Dwek to get the envelope out of his trunk, suggests that the picture does not tell the entire story. Rather than meeting together outside the trunk, Smith says that he was headed directly to his car and passed by the group, expecting nothing more from the meeting, let alone a second bribery attempt.

The courtroom skit, says Willis, is meant to put into perspective the final photo of the series, the image in which Cheatam can be seen leaning through Smith’s front passenger window, his hands and the envelope out of sight. 

How convincing the performance is to the jury remains unclear. What is clear, however, is that Judge Jose Linares does not think the defense’s explanation sufficiently convincing enough to dismiss the case. With consideration to the video evidence and the reasonable inferences that can be drawn by a jury, he says that there is reasonable support for all of the charges brought by the government’s indictment of Smith to stand. And so ends any hope Smith may have harbored for an early exit from the trial.

‘You Make Me Feel Like I Want to Pat You Down’

What exactly did Smith mean when he told Dwek, “You make me feel like I want to pat you down?” This is what assistant U.S. attorney Jenny R. Kramer wants to know as she cross-examines Smith. This exchange occurred at the first meeting between the two, outside of a diner on Staten Island. And although Smith has insisted Dwek made him feel “uncomfortable,” as the prosecution notes, he ended up taking three more meetings with the purported developer.

“He was annoying,” Smith says of the “pat you down” line. “I wanted him to shut up.”

But why, Kramer wants to know, did Smith use the exact words “pat you down?” Kramer, thorough in her questioning, asks where he had first heard the phrase — one that is ubiquitous in police dramas, and one that likely everyone in attendance had heard innumerous times. 

Smith, though, says that he had first heard the phrase while working as a Hudson County undersheriff; he used the phrase, he says, when he wanted to make sure a suspect wasn’t carrying a concealed weapon.

“Were you afraid Dwek was carrying a weapon?” Kramer skeptically asks, noting the size difference between the two and inferring that the larger Smith should have had no fear of Dwek.

“He might have been,” answers Smith, effectively ending this avenue of questioning for the prosecution, at least for the time being. How swayed the jurors are by this remains to be seen, but it successfully sets the tone for the remainder of the day’s cross-examination, which ultimately ends in a frustrated effort to catch Smith in inconsistent testimony.  

Later, Kramer asks Smith to read his lines from the video transcript, while she acts as his line-partner — a less-dramatic theatrical performance than Willis’ earlier directorial performance. If Smith was so adamant about remaining on the right side of the ELEC laws, Kramer wonders, why did he not insist that Dwek, when discussing monetary contributions, go through his campaign treasurer to give money? Couldn’t he have been more clear on this issue at the time, she asks, just as he had been when he explained his intent during direct testimony?

But Smith points out that because of Dwek’s incessant interruptions, which found Smith cut off mid-sentence repeatedly in the video, he did not have an opportunity to do so. At each moment his sentence is ended prematurely by another interjection from Dwek, he suggests, he was on the verge of saying exactly what Kramer had just suggested.

Correct or not, believable or not, the week ends in apparent difficulty for the government.  Smith’s cross-examination continues today.

MORE SMITH TRIAL COVERAGE:

• Day Eight: Smith Takes the Stand
• Day Seven: The Prosecution Rests with an Image
• Day Six: Contradictions, Clarifications and Misstatements
• Day Five: Edward Cheatam, Political Neophyte?
• Day Four: Video, Audio & the Discrepancy of Memory
• Day Three: Edward Cheatam Takes the Stand
• Day Two: Parsing the Meaning of ‘Lure’

Speaking with Assembly Transportation Committee chair John Wisniewski for help arranging the construction of an off-ramp from Route 440 to a proposed development site. 

These were the promises made by L. Harvey Smith to Solomon Dwek (posing as David Esenbach), according to Edward Cheatam’s testimony and the supporting video evidence, on July 16, 2009 at a diner in Jersey City. For Smith’s help in his official capacity as state Assemblyman, he would allegedly receive $10,000 in cash stuffed into a FedEx envelope, which would be given to him by Cheatam in the parking lot of Hoboken’s Malibu Diner the following day.  
 
Thursday’s proceedings again find Cheatam sitting at the witness stand, this time for the day’s entirety. In part this is because of Cheatam’s explanatory answers, which were somewhat minimal and required exhaustive probing from Assistant U.S. Attorney Jenny Kramer. This extensive testimony is also made necessary by the video, which was often shaky and at times hardly audible, presented to highlight the prosecution’s somewhat understated evidence.
 
In the video, Dwek attempts to sell Smith on the merits of two ultimately fictional development projects, one in Bayonne off of Route 440 and one in Jersey City on Garfield Avenue. Dwek outlines the plan for the Garfield Avenue proposal and its community appeal, ticking off the amenities: swimming pool, public playground, 780 units of affordable housing, perhaps even a day care center or preschool.
 
Smith jots notes on the back of a now-famous mustard-stained diner placemat to keep track of Dwek’s requests, including important people to speak to and the organizations he needs to contact, such as the DEP and DOT. That placemat has also been submitted as evidence by the government and is put on display in court today.

Later, Smith can be heard promising to help with these various issues “within the next few months” while he would still be in office. Smith had chosen not to run for re-election as he focused on his failed run for Jersey City mayor.
 
The video also details additional evidence from the government’s case.

At one point, Dwek refers to himself as a “generous man,” to which Smith deadpans, “According to you you’re generous.” Greeted with laughter by the group of Cheatam and political operative Jack Shaw, as well as by Dwek himself, the moment almost appears innocuous. All the same, Dwek takes him at his words. The prosecution claims that the moment Cheatam later handed the aforementioned envelope filled with $10,000 to Smith — as well as the dollar figure chosen — was set in motion by this joke. 

The handoff moment, not sufficiently caught on Dwek’s hidden camera (he is outside in the parking lot, but not close to Cheatam and Smith at the time), has become pivotal in the case. The defense maintains that rather than handing the envelope to Smith, Cheatam “threw” it into Smith’s car unnoticed while he and Cheatam were talking.
 
Shortly after this, in a moment that was caught on video, Dwek approaches Smith’s car to tell him that he doesn’t want to be referred to as a “cheap skunk anymore,” in reference to the large payment.
 
The video continues with Dwek returning to Cheatam and asking him what Smith did with the money, noting that he did not see it in the car while speaking to him. During his testimony, Cheatam says that he saw Smith quickly slide the money down by the passenger seat floor.

The prosecution moves from video to audio as it concludes Cheatam’s testimony, playing a recorded phone conversation between Cheatam and Dwek. The latter asks if Smith is “happy with the 10 in the FedEx.” Cheatam tells him yes, but “that isn’t the problem,” pointing to DEP concern over contaminated water as a possible reason why Smith may not fulfill his end of the bargain. Later, when Smith himself gets on the line via conference call, Dwek suggests more FedEx envelopes will come his way.

“Okey-dokey,” Smith says of this promise.

As the afternoon hours tick by, Peter Willis launches into his defense, cross-examining Cheatam in what could best be described as a frustrated effort.

Answering many of Willis’s questions with “I don’t remember,” Cheatam’s responses to the defense make his short responses to the prosecution sound long-winded.

Willis, in this questioning, alludes to a number of supposed events in the history of Cheatam and Smith’s on-again/off-again friendship, of which only a rare few sounded familiar to Cheatam. 
 
“Do you remember saying that you threw the money in Smith’s car?” Willis asks.
 
Cheatam: “No, I don’t remember.”
 
“Are you sure?  You’re under sworn testimony,” Willis reminds him. When Cheatam again answers that he does not, Willis hands him a document of the notes taken by the FBI at Cheatam’s arrest. 
 
Cheatam then confirms for the jurors that the document indeed uses the word “throw,” but that he remembers it otherwise, and says that the FBI has it wrong in their notes. This theme, the discrepancy of memory, continues for the remainder of the questioning.
 
In fact, at one point, Willis asks Cheatam if he is “taking any medicine” that would result in his forgetfulness or has any “memory problems.” The prosecution quickly raises an objection, which is sustained by Judge Jose Linares. 

The cross-examination of Cheatam will continue today, along with additional video evidence and documents that Willis suggests will either contradict or — more hopefully for Willis — refresh the memory of the witness.

Photo of Smith from an April 2009 mayoral forum by Steve Gold

The process of bringing the accused to trial has progressed slowly throughout the last year; a year that has brought resignation, death, court and prison to some of those who were charged. Here’s an update on everyone from Jersey City caught up in the probe.

IN PRISON

Guy Catrillo

Catrillo, a former staffer in Mayor’s Action Bureau who in the spring of 2009 was Mayor Healy’s candidate to run against Ward E councilman Steven Fulop, was the first of those arrested to be sent to prison after pleading guilty last September to taking $15,000 in bribes. Today the 55-year-old longtime Jersey City resident is serving a sentence at the The Federal Correctional Institution in Fort Dix, where he is known as Inmate 30121-050. He has a projected release date of July 5, 2011.

Phil Kenny

The former Ward B councilman was not among the Jersey City officials arrested in July of 2009, but he pleaded guilty in October 2009 to accepting $5,000 in bribes. On May 5 of this year, Kenny was sentenced to one year and one day in federal prison and two years probation. He is serving his sentence as Inmate 30258-050 at the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn. His projected release date is May 4, 2011.

IN LIMBO

Leona Beldini

The former deputy mayor, who was Mayor Healy’s campaign treasurer for the 2009 election, is so far the only person arrested to go to trial. On February 11 of this year, she was found guilty on two counts of accepting $20,000 worth of illegal campaign contributions. On June 14, Beldini was sentenced to three years in prison and forced to pay a $30,000 fine. That same month, her attorneys filed an appeal of the sentencing.

Lou and Ron Manzo

In the spring of 2009, former Assemblyman and perennial mayoral candidate Lou Manzo was taking another run at the city’s top office. He was arrested in the July sweep and corruption charges were brought against him and his brother Ron; together they were charged with accepting $27,500 in bribes. But in May, a federal judge ruled that the Manzos couldn’t be charged under the Hobbs Act — the federal law that governs many public corruption cases — because the law only applies to public officials. Both Manzos was considered a private citizen at the time. The government is currently appealing the judge’s ruling. Meanwhile, Ron Manzo is also set to stand trial as a codefendant in the government’s case against former Secaucus mayor Dennis Elwell. That trial has a scheduled start date of February 1, 2011.

LaVern Webb-Washington

The low-income housing activist, who unsuccessfully challenged Viola Richardson for the Ward F City Council seat in 2009, pleaded guilty last October to accepting $15,000 in bribes. She was sentenced to 12 months and a day in prison on March 18 of this year. But a federal judge indefinitely postponed the beginning of her sentence — initially set for June 7 — in the wake of his ruling on the Hobbs Act and the Manzo brothers.

Jimmy King

The former head of the Jersey City Parking Authority, who ran unsuccessfully for the Ward C City Council seat in 2009, pleaded guilty last September to accepting $10,000 in bribes. On June 13 of this year, King’s sentencing was postponed, pending the outcome of Lou Manzo’s appeal.

Maher Khalil

The former deputy director of the Jersey City Department of Health and Human Services pleaded guilty last September to accepting $30,000 in bribes. His sentencing date is pending.

Michael Manzo

The former arson investigator with the Jersey City Fire Department, who was running for the City Council’s Ward B seat in the spring of 2009, pleaded guilty last December to accepting $5,000 in bribes. His sentencing date is pending.

Edward Cheatam

The former Housing Authority commissioner and Board of Education vice president pleaded guilty on September 20, 2009 to corruption charges. In his plea, Cheatam said he took $70,000 and funneled $15,000 to the re-election campaign of Mayor Healy. His sentencing date is pending.

AWAITING TRIAL

Mariano Vega*

The former council president, who “stepped aside” to become an At-Large councilman after the corruption arrest, has maintained his innocence from the get-go, and he officially pleaded not guilty in January to the charge that he’d accepted $30,000 in bribes. He and his attorneys will get to make their case in court when his trial starts on October 12.

L. Harvey Smith

The trial of the former state Assemblyman, Jersey City councilman and unsuccessful 2009 mayoral candidate on charges he accepted $15,000 in bribes is set to begin November 22.

Joe Cardwell

The political operative, who pleaded not guilty in January to charges he accepted $30,000 in bribes, is set to stand trial beginning on November 8.

Lori Serrano

The former board member and chairwoman of the Jersey City Housing Authority, who ran unsuccessfully for an At-Large City Council seat in 2009, pleaded not guilty last December to accepting
$10,000 in bribes. On February 18 of this year, a grand jury brought new mail fraud charges against Serrano for not reporting the $10,000 in bribes she allegedly took during the 2009 campaign. Her trial has not yet been scheduled.

John Guarini

The former Jersey City housing inspector pleaded not guilty in January to charges he’d accepted $40,000 in bribes. In May, his attorney tried to have the charges against Guarini tossed out, but a federal judge declined to do so. His trial has not yet been scheduled.

ARRESTED BUT NOT INDICTED

Joseph Castagna

Castagna, a former city health officer, was arrested on charges of accepting a $5,000 bribe to pass along to political candidate Michael Manzo. Castagna was suspended from his position after his arrest. In late August of last year, it was revealed that Castagna also faced a probe from the city’s police department for possibly issuing more food vendor licenses than allowed by law. In light of all the charges, Castagna retired from his position and his request to receive early retirement benefits was approved pending the outcome of the police investigation.

Richard Greene

Greene, a former aide to L. Harvey Smith, was arrested on charges of accepting a $5,000 bribe to pass along to then-mayoral candidate Smith.

NO LONGER HERE

Jack Shaw

Longtime Jersey City political operative Jack Shaw was found dead in his Paulus Hook apartment just 5 days after being arrested on charges he’d accepted $10,000 in bribes. An autopsy later revealed that Shaw died of a valium overdose, but it did not answer the question of whether or not Shaw took his own life.

- Budget Vote Tonight: The City Council will consider the fiscal year’s budget tonight in what could be a contentious vote. Protests are also scheduled for before the meeting.

- Cammarano Pleads Guilty: Former Hoboken Mayor Peter Cammarano has pleaded guilty to taking $25,000 from FBI mole Solomon Dwek, becoming the 17th public official in the operation to plead guilty. Cammarano says he accepted the bribe through former Jersey City Housing Authority official and former Board of Education member Edward Cheatam and longtime political consultant Jack Shaw.

- Transit Fare Hikes & NJCU: The Gothic Times student newspaper takes a look at how NJ Transit’s fare hikes and service cuts will affect the largely commuter-based university. One junior who commutes from North Arlington says the reduced service will be a killer. “That’s a huge increase [in waiting],” the 20-year-old says. “I wait for the bus [to get to campus] for half an hour, if that. It’s not like minute wait.”

- Sharpton Comes to Town: The Rev. Al Sharpton will be the featured speaker at the community forum in Jersey City tomorrow night on “community violence, youth, education, and unity.”

- Freeholders Back Palisades Development: The Hudson County Board of Freeholders have voted to affirm the county Planning Board’s June 2008 ruling in favor of building a Walgreens, bank and coffee shop on River Road across from the Palisades Medical Center in North Bergen. The plan has been opposed by environmentalists.

- Moody’s Upgrades Port Authority Bond Rating: An upgrade of the Port Authority’s bond rating from Aa3 to Aa2 was one of the few bright spots cited in a report by Moody’s Investors Service today that painted a gloomy picture of the overall municipal credit market during the first quarter of 2010.

In Statewide News:

- School Board Results Across the State: Unofficial results show that New Jersey voters rejected 260 of 479 school budgets across 19 counties. The heated political atmosphere around the districts’ budgets may have brought many first-time school board voters out.

- Supermarket Liquor Law Reintroduced: Assembly Budget Committee Chairman Louis Greenwald says he has reintroduced legislation to allow the sale of beer, liquor and wine in supermarkets. The measure has been strongly opposed by the New Jersey Liquor Store Association since Greenwald initially introduced the measure four years ago.

- Fixing Gubernatorial Debates: The Election Law Enforcement Commission plans to create a task force to study how to improve gubernatorial debates in time for the 2013 election, after hearing testimony from campaign officials and voter advocates about their concerns with the debate system during the 2009 election.

- Hospital Staffer Speaks Up, Gets Fired: A social worker at Hagedorn Psychiatric Hospital was stripped of her duties last week after a letter she wrote opposing Gov. Christie’s plan to close the facility was read by a lawmaker at a Senate Budget Committee hearing.

- Storm Wreaks Havoc: Emergency services in Hudson County responded to hundreds of 911 calls as rain and winds from a nor’easter lashed the area over the weekend.

- CREATE Gets ‘Motion of Reconsideration’: The state Department of Education has informed CREATE Charter School that it will be given a “motion of reconsideration” of the department’s decision to close the school this summer.

- Cutting Sports to Save $: The mayors of all 12 Hudson County municipalities want to do away with the entire athletic programs at County Prep and High Tech high schools, claiming it would save the taxpayers hundreds of thousands of dollars.

- International Custody Fight: A 45-year-old Jersey City man shares the story of his erstwhile son, who was taken to Slovakia by his ex-wife in 2005 and never brought back.

- Pols Not Lining Up Behind Perez: Hudson County Sheriff Juan Perez continues to receive word from Hudson County Democratic Organization folks that they aren’t backing him for re-election.

- Some of Jack Shaw’s Last Words? Longtime Jersey City political operative Jack Shaw reportedly told Lou Manzo that he had been interrogated for several hours by federal officials last summer, as they tried to get him to give up then-Division of Community Affairs head Joe Doria in the corruption sweep. “Guantanamo’s got nothin’ on these guys,” Shaw reportedly told Manzo as they shared a holding cell together.

- Direct Edge’s Exchange Gets SEC Approval: Jersey City-based Direct Edge’s application for exchange status for its electronic communications networks has been approved by the Securities and Exchange Commission. It will become the fourth official U.S. stock market.

- Doc’s License Revoked: The state Board of Medical Examiners has revoked the license of doctor who practiced in Jersey City and surrounding areas, finding he willfully performed grossly negligent exams and electrodiagnostic testing using fabricated data, issuing misinterpreted reports and billing at inflated fees.

- Luxury Rental Market Doing Well: There were reportedly “big flurries of rental activity” this winter at Jersey City luxury rental buildings like 50 Columbus and Grove Pointe.

In Statewide News:

- Capping Property Tax Hikes: Gov. Christie will propose a constitutional amendment to cap municipal property-tax increases at 2.5 percent per year in his budget speech tomorrow.

- Layoffs May Hit Nonunion State Workers: Gov. Christie is leaving open the possibility of laying off thousands of nonunion workers come July to close a multibillion dollar budget gap.

- Affordable Housing Transfers Failed: A new analysis of publicly available data on prior state-approved so-called Regional Contribution Agreements, an arrangement that enabled wealthier suburban towns top sell their affordable housing requirements to poorer cities, reveals that 25 percent of the money was never used by urban officials to produce housing.

- On ‘Pension Envy’: As New Jersey’s unemployment hovers at 10 percent and 401(k)s are dented by stock-market losses, retired public workers are finding themselves on the receiving end of a public backlash. Meanwhile, the Record reports that the current pension payouts will continue for decades, even if proposed legislation to “fix” the underfunded system passes.

- Tax Revenues Down: New Jersey’s tax revenues for the year are down by nearly a half-million dollars, a drop the Christie administration said it had seen coming.

- Rutgers Giving Buyouts to Longtime Profs: Rutgers University says it will offer buyouts to veteran professors to clear the way for younger replacements as part of a way to trim salaries. But the Christie administration is questioning whether the university has the authority to make such an offer without legislative approval.

- Preservation Takes a Hit: Tough economic times are prompting some counties to scale back popular open space and farmland preservation programs.

- Sparks are flying between Ward E councilman Steven Fulop and former mayor Gerry McCann. Earlier this week, Fulop issued a release chastising the Healy administration for McCann’s new position as an inspector with the Jersey City Incinerator Authority, claiming it was payback for McCann “delivering” Sean Connors to the Healy organization. Connors was once seen as a threat to Ward D councilman Bill Gaughan, but last year he opted to run for school board instead; Connors was endorsed by Healy and Gaughan, won a seat on the board, and in turn endorsed the Healy team during the municipal election. (Connors, like Fulop, is also reportedly interested in the mayor’s office in 2013.) McCann, a convicted felon who went to federal prison in the 90s for bank fraud, swung back, promising to sue Fulop so aggressively that it will put an end to his higher office aspirations. Meanwhile, state Sen. Sandra Cunningham says she’s OK with McCann’s new job.

- Assemblyman Charles Mainor is calling the men of the community together in the wake of the double-murder on Woodlawn Avenue early Tuesday morning, where a 17-year-old and 26-year-old were both shot in the head.

- Jersey City biotech company Lux Biosciences has filed its Luveniq drug treatment in the U.S. and Europe, and it plans on requesting a priority review for the drug in the U.S. The medication treats noninfectious uveitis that affects parts of the eye.

- A 22-year-old Jersey City man is the public spokesperson for Newark’s new “Status is Everything” HIV prevention and testing campaign.

- A Superior Court judge will hear a motion for summary judgment today filed by a Tea Party group that wants to recall U.S. Sen. Bob Menendez.

- The first-ever “Green Teen Music and Arts Festival” will be held tonight at Grace Church Van Vorst; look for a JCI report from the event next week.

- The Boys & Girls Club of Hudson County will honor the JCPD at its 117th annual dinner of the Board of Trustees on Tuesday.

- Christ Hospital and the American Cancer Society are offering a free program to help women undergoing cancer treatment on Monday.

- Lastly, a little pat on our own backs: John R. Bohrer’s latest dispatch from the Beldini trial has been dubbed a “must-read” by Politicker’s Wally Edge.

In statewide news:

- David J. Rosen from the Office of Legislative Services told the Senate Budget and Appropriations Committee yesterday that the state’s deficit could climb as high as $11 billion by June 30.

- Top Democrats are saying that with the state’s budget problems, the tax increase on the wealthiest New Jerseyans originally thought to be temporary should be back on the table. Gov. Christie has repeatedly said he would not reinstate the tax.

- A pair of bills introduced by state Sen. Loretta Weinberg yesterday aim to give residents greater access to public records and more awareness of government meetings.

- A bill advancing in the legislature would prevent developers and landowners from facing a series of changes in local law halfway through the application process.

- As the nation gets ready for Super Bowl Sunday, Senate Republican leader Tom Kean says he wants the NFL’s top game in New Jersey in 2014. “New Jersey offers the best venue for the Super Bowl, period,” he says in a statement announcing his introduction of a Senate resolution urging the NFL to select New Jersey as the location for Super Bowl XLVIII.

- A Senate committee has approved legislation that would force hospitals to adopt policies regulating conflicts of interests with board members.

And after his three years of training and service, Solomon Dwek returned to the surface having captured some pretty big fish, in business but most notably in politics. He held his breath for months, navigated some of the most treacherous waters known to man and never made a blip on enemy radar. And he did it all without ever having learned to swim.

Let’s get this straight: Shlo knows real estate. Shlo knows sting operations.

But does Shlo know politics?

Oh, no, no.

One of the most stunning revelations from the five days of testimony by Solomon Dwek is his ignorance of the system in which he has wreaked so much havoc. Few professional politicians have ended as many promising careers as Mr. Dwek has, and yet a tenth-grade civics class probably has a better handle on government than he does.

There are several minor mistakes in his travels as a bribe-happy developer. One is his assumption that Leona Beldini’s position of deputy mayor is like that of a vice president, when it is really more like a key aide. Then Dwek is unaware that she doesn’t have a vote on the city council or the zoning board. He also believes that Beldini was a candidate for reelection that spring. On one tape with Shaw and Cheatam, Dwek questions his political fixers’ advice that he should only give $10 grand to Healy/Beldini, saying it’s not a lot for two political campaigns, and “I don’t wanna be a chintz.” (Oh, Shlo knows Yiddish.)

At one point, Shaw says they ought to hedge their bets by giving $10,000 to Healy and $10,000 to opposing mayoral candidate Lou Manzo, unless Healy “pulls away significantly.” Now, anyone who has watched 15 minutes of cable news in his life could tell you that this is a clear reference to Healy’s standing in the polls, but on the witness stand, Dwek says he interprets that as insurance for Healy ‘pulling away’ from a bribe. Even to a political kindergartener, there’s not enough Crayola there to connect the dots.

Dwek repeatedly insists he does not make campaign contributions, but “cash bribes,” but Beldini’s lawyer presses him about whether he’s ever made legit campaign donations in his life. Yes, Dwek says, but very few and he didn’t expect anything in return.

In truth, Dwek doled out tens of thousands of dollars to state and federal candidates in the decade prior to his arrest for bank fraud. The names range from Robert Torricelli to George W. Bush, and like many incompetent politicians before him, it seems Dwek doesn’t realize his past has a paper trail.

At one point during the cross-examination, Beldini’s Bow Tie is talking about how Dwek’s Hudson County go-betweens would get matching bribes for every “contribution” to a public official. Dwek corrects him. “No. Corrupt payments.” They quibble over this repeatedly, until The Bow Tie starts saying “corrupt payments” as well, “because this’ll go faster if I say it.”

The political overreaching can’t all be blamed on the witness, though. In the opening arguments and direct questioning of Dwek, the government prosecutors insinuated that the money Dwek funneled into the Healy ’09 campaign coffers would eventually line the pockets of the Mayor and his deputy. They didn’t outright say it, but what they were getting at was something much more nefarious than inflating a campaign account. “Corrupt payments.”

While that might not be true, it is against the law, let alone highly unethical, to let an individual contribute amounts over the legal limit by having numerous others make smaller donations. It is even more nefarious when considering that Dwek’s name—the alias David Esenbach—had never contributed the max to begin with.

Though the defense dug up an event invitation where “Garfield Development LLC” shows up as a sponsor. It appears Jack Shaw invented a name for David’s front business, which didn’t even have a real fake name like Dwek did.

For there were a lot of names on that invitation, a lot of people giving to the Healy for Mayor ’09 campaign account. Does this make it believable that Leona was being hoodwinked?

Hardly.

Because though the defense makes a lot of bones about how Beldini had no vote, no influence in Jersey City politics, it fails to acknowledge the importance of Beldini’s role as campaign treasurer for Mayor Healy’s “million dollah campaign.”

Beldini is caught on tapes mixing her private financial interests as a realtor with her dual official duties as deputy mayor and campaign treasurer. At one point, she hands Dwek two business cards: one as Leona Beldini, Deputy Mayor and the other as Leona Beldini, Real Estate Agent. There may be a lot that Shlo don’t know, but double-fisting duties is a surefire no-no.

Then there’s the time when she replies, “Absolutely,” after developer David tells her he’s given “the ten thousand” and requests help with approvals. Or the video of the campaign treasurer/deputy mayor saying that approvals should be fine with Mayor Healy now that the money’s flowing. “He” — she lifts her chin — “remembers his friends.”

Now, would a developer who wasn’t forking over the dough get to shake pepper-shakers with the Mayor? After seeing these conversations, it might take several million dollah campaigns to convince a jury otherwise.

Because for once, Beldini has filed her proverbial petition signatures. She’s no longer treasurer, but the candidate in the campaign of her life: Keep Leona Outta The Federal Pen, 2010.

Politicians are famous — infamous, rather — for controlling their images. They shield the public from their true feelings, their naked thoughts on the clowns they have to kiss up to. Of course they talk a lot, but when do they tell us what they’re really thinking? Not often.

It’s what comes to mind when looking at Leona Beldini in the courtroom. Her lips are pursed, her body language muted. From time to time, we’ll get a glimpse of what Beldini thinks. She’ll shake her head from side to side with incredulity. She might shoot an objecting prosecutor her ‘buzz off‘ look. But mostly, she sits there with a stone veneer. Gavel to gavel. Day in, day out.

Right now, she’s running as an outsider. According to her defense attorney, Leona isn’t a political mastermind. Hell, she doesn’t even have that much power. Trust The Bow Tie, and you might believe that the beginning and end of Leona Beldini in Jersey City government could be found in a civil marriage, a ribbon-cutting or a parking ticket. She’s small-time!… Not like those godless government fat cats….

No, Leona wasn’t raking in $12,000 a month like Dwek. She wasn’t driving around a Lexus SUV. (Or maybe she was? It never comes up.) She collected a small yeoman’s “fee” of $66,000. She wears the same few outfits to court everyday because she doesn’t have the means that some people have. (She’s looking at you, Shlomo.)

And while Solomon swindled his family out of millions, without a soul who’d stand next to him at the podium with an endorsement, Leona is shaking hands and kissing babies.

In fact, an adorable little one decked out in pink entered the courtroom on Wednesday. She sat in the front row behind the defense table while the jurors tried to help themselves from going all goo-goo-ga-ga. At one point, Beldini turned, looked at the baby and winked her right eye — the one furthest from the jury — with the microsecond precision only seen in cartoons. You damn well expected a glint of sparkle and a harmonic ting from the triangle after that one. It was breathtaking.

To be clear, this is not to say that Beldini doesn’t like babies, but it’s only the politicians of the world who must broadcast to you and everyone else, ‘HOW MUCH I LIKE BABIES!‘

Politicians also go to great lengths to hide their personal flaws. These aren’t the failings of the smelly gym-sneakers, has-to-be-reminded-to-take-out-the-trash variety, but rather the deep emotional pain they’ve caused to others. The names and faces of those they knocked down and stepped on on their way to the top.

This is not an advantage Solomon Dwek’s campaign has. He is a ruined man who will probably go to prison for many years when he is through testifying.

And so in the courtroom, as in politics, careers are spoiled and public images lay in ruin. They are almost always the victims of their own design. Dwek is no different.

What’s clear is this: a few seconds on April 30, 2009 saved Jerramiah Healy’s ass.

Otherwise, he might no longer be mayor of Jersey City.

You can’t see him. He’s out of frame (a spy camera only has so much range). But Healy is dangerously close to the table at the Medical Center Luncheonette as David Esenbach, a government informant posing as a developer, tells a group of the mayor’s associates that he needs his zoning approvals done as quickly as possible. Esenbach refers to the $10,000 cash he has brought with him, stashed in a FedEx envelope, to be illegally funneled into the Healy ’09 campaign account. Even more damning to all ears present, he promises to fork over another $10K after the election.

And at that, without even a beat, David Esenbach stands up to shake Healy’s hand. The Mayor steps to the table and into the picture — literally. There’s an FBI camera hidden on David’s gut.

By this time, the two have met before, and Healy greets Dave warmly, perhaps knowing that this guy is important enough to remember his name, or at least pretend to remember his name…. See, it all depends on what kind of state of mind Healy’s in, but don’t worry; Dave understands the mayor’s condition. See, he’s got a couple of good pals who tell him everything he needs to know about Hizzoner.

This is a lesson in how to make friends and bribe people in Jersey City. It is taught in starts and stops by secret tapes and witness testimony, pieced together by the Assistant U.S. Attorneys prosecuting Healy’s suspended deputy, Leona Beldini, on six counts related to influence peddling and corrupt payments.

Beldini was one of the four people sitting at that Luncheonette table while Esenbach dished the dough pro quo. All four got pinched by the Feds.

That’s everybody except for Healy, safe because he hadn’t reached the booth early enough to hear the worst of it. Sure, David was able to mention $10 grand to him at one point, but Healy could plausibly brush it off as something about fundraising. Maybe the guy was bundling donations from his friends?… Hey, it could happen.

Now, of the indicted diners, Beldini is the only one proclaiming her innocence. She faces up to twenty years if convicted. Eddie Cheatam, one of two political fixers who helped David do business, copped a plea. The other, Jack Shaw, has since shuffled off to the Big FedEx Envelope In The Sky.

As for the final participant, David Esenbach is also no longer with us. That’s because he was never actually with us to begin with. His real name is Solomon Dwek and he is sitting in the courtroom this morning.

Spectators came out in droves to catch a glimpse of the government’s star witness in his second day of testimony. The press pool alone accounted for 15 by 9:47 am. There was a revolving door of defense attorneys, presumably with clients who walked into the Dwek buzzsaw. You could tell their pedigree by their briefcases, their manner, or their coziness with Beldini’s barrister, The Bow Tie. BT’s been teaching criminal law at Rutgers for years—maybe the fellas could earn a credit or two if they take a pop quiz on the cross-examination.

Not today, though. Today is target practice for the prosecution. They have an arsenal of videos and recordings. The Jaw’s co-counsel, Sandra Moser, fixes her position at the center of the courtroom. The enemy’s coordinates are spread out at her fingertips. She commands the barrage. The Siege of Fortress Beldini is underway.

Exhibit…. Page Number…. Tape…. Audio Recording…. Mr. Dwek…. Your Honor…. ::silence::

Moser holds her fire as The Bow Tie objects. To what, it’s not important. He objects.

What else can the man do? Over and over again, crisp gray-scale footage floods a 6′ by 8′ screen on the wall opposite the jury box. Transcribed conversations from cellphone-taps trickle down the page. The men and women of the jury know what they’re seeing: stark evidence of a conspiracy to trade influence for money. If that weren’t enough, Moser has Dwek explain it for them.

So The Bow Tie objects. He jumps to his feet like a fencer about to spar. He lifts his rapier — his left index finger — and thrusts at the hearsay, the witness leading, the speculation. He cannot abide the prosecution’s well laid assault, bombing Beldini into a crater only to bomb that crater some more. The Bow Tie needs to disrupt, to make the government’s pursuit of corruption look less methodical, and more diabolical.

Somebody ought to tell him that you can’t parry with precision guided munitions.

Moser finishes another question. Dwek has barely inhaled before The Bow Tie is out of his seat again.

Lookit! The witness is reading FROM the transcripts!

The defense would like the jury to believe Solomon Dwek is some sort of puppet, but in fact, he’s an actor.

Now, if only it was possible to tell which role is the fake, and which is the real Dwek?

David Esenbach seems to be a whole other person than the baby-faced man who sits at the witness stand. Esenbach is a cajoler. His voice, a nasal rapid-fire rip of gee-whiz. At times, he sounds like a young Jay Leno. Ya know, just aw regulah gwuy, trwyin’ to make a few buhks, that’zawl.

Solomon Dwek talks with an earnest, round voice. He speaks slowly. Sometimes you can hear an Eastern European flourish. (‘They said Beldini or Craig Guy might be de b’yag-person.’) Dwek’s face looks concerned. It wants you to know that he’s a serious man. That this time, he’s not bullshitting you.

Moser rolls the next clip. The jurors slide headphones over their ears. They fix their eyes on the screen or their transcripts. Here, Shlomo steps in — offstage, once again. No one to perform for. He’ll look at the transcripts, but never at the monitor to his right. Every now and then, his mouth makes O’s, like he’s sucking in a marshmallow. A nervous tic. He’s breathing from the pit of his stomach.

Is he upset with his performance? Did this soliloquy not live up to his full potential as an artist? Maybe he’s uncomfortable as fifty-odd people are evaluating his body of work?

As one long monologue plays out on the screen, Shlomo is fixated on the transcript. He starts bouncing his shoulders and poppin’ marshmallows, one after another. He looks like a teenager in the mirror, imagining how he should’ve reacted when Sally said sorry, but she already has a date to the prom.

The mask falls and rises with each clip. In one instance, we see David and Solomon occupy the same space. He tape-records a phone conversation with Eddie Cheatam in which they agree to meet at The Brownstone Diner. Eddie hangs up, and in an instant, the voice on the recording — da dopey high-pitched Jay Leno gwuy — has changed to an all-business baritone, sounding like the fine-print disclaimer at the end of an auto-sale commercial.

The-preceding-is-a-consensual-recording-of-Edward-Cheatam-on-Monday-April….

It’s startling, but in a light, amusing way. It draws a similar reaction to the recordings of Beldini calling Jack Shaw’s cell. He’s got a music service that plays while Leona waits for him to pick up.

BUMPBIMBUMPBIM—Heyyy! Get rhythm! When youuu get the blues….

Somebody’s singing the b-side to Johnny Cash’s “Walk The Line,” an upbeat country ditty. It’s a bit out of place, because Shaw doesn’t seem like the type. Country music, sure, but in more of a tragic, there’s-a-tear-in-my-beer, the-hurtin’s-all-over way.

Shaw’s voice is not that of a well man. Not so much gravelly as it sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel. He uses words like ‘alrighty’ and makes little jokes that only the less sentient would find amusing. It sounds like there’s a struggle inside to get words out, and you find him sweet for just making the effort to speak. He wasn’t that old, but you could never tell it by his voice.

How sad, becau — BUMPBIMBUMPBIM a jumpy rhythm makes you feel so fine! It’ll shake all the trouble from your worried mind! Get rhythm when youuu get the blues….

The courtroom is nodding along, smiling. Even The Bow Tie gets in on the act. Beldini is stoic. Shaw was a friend. She called him “hon” and “my dear.” She hated Eddie Cheatam but loved Jack.

Then again, without Jack Shaw and his buddy David Esenbach, maybe she wouldn’t be sitting here today.

Shaw is the one caught on camera telling Dave about “This. Piece. Of. Shit. Restaurant.” that Mayor Healy frequents. Ya gotta understand, he tells David, “the Mayor drinks a little,” and maybe if you spent all night drinking a little, you wouldn’t mind the chow at this Luncheonette either.

And so they meet Mayor Healy at the Medical Center Luncheonette — a few times actually. Though Dwek’s David act never does catch Healy in the act…. And all Shaw had to show for it were some shitty meals at a shitty restaurant and a few FedEx envelopes stuffed with cash.

Ah, Jack. He talked his friends into putting on a show and didn’t even stick around for the curtain call. Perhaps he had an early reservation at a finer establishment.

You see, on the day of his arrest last July, Shaw wandered out of the federal courthouse in Newark, a strange smile on his face. A few days later, there’d be no more eating at piece of shit luncheonettes. No sir. From then on, it’d be Shaw and St. Peter. Tablecloths and lobster.