November 7, 2007

George Ryan's Day of Reckoning Arrives

From a commentary published by the Chicago Sun-Times on the day former Governor George Ryan reports to federal prison in Wisconsin:

If you're tempted to feel sorry for this 73-year-old grandfatherly figure, save it. Remember the evidence the jury had before it. Remember the fat wads of cash he always carried, even though he withdrew just $6,700 from his bank over a decade. Remember the contracts he steered to his friends. Remember the vacations and gifts he accepted from them. Remember the state workers who were pressured to raise money for him and work on his campaigns.

Finally, remember the license-for-bribes scandal, which, more than anything, tarnished Ryan's long record of public service. Remember that one of the drivers who paid a bribe to get a license from Ryan's secretary of state's office was involved in the fiery crash that killed six children of Scott and Janet Willis. And remember how Ryan and his also-convicted pals shamefully thwarted an investigation into that crash and its connection to the license scandal.

But Ryan has never admitted his guilt, and he has offered only a half-hearted apology for letting the state down. He finds fault with his jury's tumultuous deliberations, not his own actions. His day of reckoning is here, and he has no one to blame but himself.

From the Chicago Tribune:

But Ryan has never admitted his guilt, and he has offered only a half-hearted apology for letting the state down. He finds fault with his jury's tumultuous deliberations, not his own actions. His day of reckoning is here, and he has no one to blame but himself.

He was lying. By the time he gave that speech, Ryan had committed multiple crimes against the citizens who had given him their trust. He had mocked state government's mission to protect Illinoisans. Ryan's underlings accepted bribes for between 1,000 and 2,000 trucker's licenses -- and some of that blood money made its way to his campaign coffers. At least nine innocents died in crashes blamed on fraudulent Illinois truckers.

There was so much more betrayal from Ryan -- just as self-serving if not as lethal. He gave his cronies such free rein over state business that they collectively pocketed $4.77 million in sweetheart deals. He steered improper gifts and favors to members of his family, allowing his corruption to wash over them as well.

In short, Ryan diabolically put the enrichment of himself and everyone around him ahead of state government's crucial responsibilities. U.S. Atty. Patrick Fitzgerald put it crisply when he issued Ryan's indictment four years ago: When Ryan was in office, "the State of Illinois was for sale."

The Trib takes a look forward with this sentence:

That oft-quoted sentence gave birth to Illinois' unofficial state motto: "Who's next?"

From the State Journal-Register:

At best, Ryan’s entry into prison can let us derive satisfaction that the system prevailed; that even corruption as entrenched as the kind practiced by Ryan’s political circle ultimately can be uncovered and prosecuted.

But even that sense of satisfaction is greatly muted by one fact: Ryan has never admitted to any wrongdoing. He reports to prison today believing he is an innocent man, a dedicated public servant who was loyal to his friends and ultimately was done in by their misdeeds — of which he claims ignorance — and by overzealous prosecution.

“I believe this decision today is not in accordance with the kind of public service that I’ve provided to the people of Illinois over 40 years,” Ryan said on April 17, 2006, after the federal jury convicted him. “Needless to say, I am disappointed in the outcome, but I feel confident in our appeal, and there will be an appeal.”

Many people in this town benefited from Ryan’s political career, which he built on a foundation of deal-making and favor-swapping. His defenders here are many, and they — like Ryan himself — still view him as a victim of his loyalty, and an unfair victim at that. To these people, Ryan was merely working the system as it had long been worked.

The warning signs of Ryan’s political machine running amok were there for years. When Pat Quinn ran unsuccessfully against Ryan for secretary of state in 1994, he made it an issue.

“George Ryan has behaved like the sheriff of Nottingham, standing by while his army of inspectors squeezes more and more campaign money out of honest businesses,” Quinn said in December 1993.

Some 11 months later, on the very day Ryan beat Quinn, a part fell off a truck on a highway near Milwaukee, striking a minivan that burst into flames, killing six children. The driver of the truck, Ricardo Guzman, was driving on a license issued from the Melrose Park license facility that had become a clearinghouse for licenses issued in exchange for contributions to the Ryan campaign. Nearly five years later, an official with Guzman’s trucking company admitted he had paid a bribe to fix Guzman’s license test score.

Ryan has consistently affected an air of detachment when speaking of this case. It’s a tragedy, he has said. Likewise did he respond to so many other charges in his lengthy trial. Other people did things they shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have been more diligent. How was I to know? Look at all the good I have done.

Maybe the reality will set in starting today, when the gates close behind him in Oxford. We doubt it.