By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
By Charles Lam
District Attorney Tony Rackauckas has been known to use his immense authority to grant favors to friends. Rackauckas recently all but conceded that state Senator Tom Harman, whom he endorsed for the Republican nomination to be California’s next attorney general, had used the DA’s office earlier this year in an attempt to win the potent, if deceitful, ballot designation “prosecutor.”
Pestered by reporters such as myself, Rackauckas has also acknowledged that, during his first term, he ordered his organized-crime bureau to stop investigating his fishing buddy and campaign chairman, businessman Patrick DiCarlo, and then disbanded the unit after discovering his detectives remained suspicious of DiCarlo’s ties to the East Coast underworld.
But, surprisingly, the DA’s gift to Todd Spitzer—an internship of sorts with a high government salary, big title and a golden egg at the end—might have been the most bizarre. Why? The man Rackauckas was grooming as his successor had been his enemy.
In 2004 and 2005, then-state Assemblyman Spitzer called Rackauckas OC’s most “corrupt” politician, which was saying something, given that twisted Mike Carona was then the sheriff. Spitzer also blasted Susan Kang Schroeder and her husband, Mike Schroeder, as the DA’s tainted, Machiavellian advisors. He felt so strongly anti-Rackauckas that he threatened to use his $700,000 campaign war chest to run against the DA in the 2006 election. (He ended up returning to Sacramento.)
What happened next is so improbable that if I hadn’t witnessed the transformation myself, I’d think it was the stuff of fiction. In 2008, the then-state Assemblyman ran into term limits and needed a job. Spitzer visited the Schroeders’ hillside Corona del Mar home and met with them and Rackauckas. During a conversation that lasted until 2 a.m., an emotional Spitzer, who had been Jewish, revealed his conversion to Christianity, claimed to recognize he’d been a troublemaker and asked for a chance to redeem himself.
“What can I say?” Susan Schroeder recently recalled. “I was impressed. Todd was saying that he knew he’d screwed up, that he’d become a Christian and he promised to be a better person. So, we decided to take him back. Pretty stupid, huh?”
Asked if Susan Schroeder’s depiction was accurate, Spitzer told me, “That’s all true.”
In 2009, Spitzer begin working for the folks he’d once branded as crooks. The flip-flop represented a staggering shift, one he now blames on wanting a new, non-maverick lifestyle that included being more accepted in local GOP circles, where Mike Schroeder has sway. The first time I saw him in the courthouse in his new job, I asked him if corruption in the DA’s office had vanished. He smiled and changed the subject.
But the 18-month mentoring experiment ended ugly in late August of this year, with Rackauckas, who is entering his fifth term in January, firing Spitzer. An angry Spitzer—apparently on speed dial to reporters—has resumed calling Rackauckas and the Schroeders evil. They’ve returned the favor by more than hinting that Spitzer is delusional.
In dueling, Oct. 20 Santa Ana press conferences, each side slammed the other for more than two hours each. Spitzer claimed his return to the office “was a set-up from the get-go,” a way to trick him into not using his now-$1 million war chest to challenge Rackauckas in 2010.
If that assertion were true, why had he been so naive? I asked.
He explained he’d thought the Schroeders “had changed” for the better after their friend Carona was convicted of corruption.
What did the Schroeders say or do that made him think that? “Nothing,” Spitzer replied. “I assumed it. From my perspective, it would have rocked my world. It was a misjudgment on my part.”
During his press conference, Rackauckas calmly fielded questions and described his former employee’s pre-firing actions as “inappropriate . . . not necessarily misconduct, [but] disappointing conduct” that centered on a lack of “humility.” Rackauckas gave the impression his sacked 49-year-old understudy still lacks maturity. In the DA’s HQ, stories abound of Spitzer’s arrogance, such as when he made a clerk cry or asked DA investigators to serve cocktails and clean up at a party he threw at his house.
Yet, the DA didn’t exploit countless opportunities to be cruel. Without a hint of insincerity, Rackauckas praised Spitzer’s courtroom skills, passion and law-enforcement insights. The word he used most to describe Spitzer was “disappointment.” Indeed, when one of the DA’s aides began to tell reporters an embarrassing Spitzer story, Rackauckas waved him off, saying, “No.”
Spitzer wasn’t so gracious at his event. A gifted speaker, he started off forcefully. He slammed the DA for firing him, paying for a four-member media office while furloughing frontline prosecutors, willingly putting innocent people in prison, and giving Mark Robinson, one of his campaign contributors, a lucrative and secret contract to battle Toyota.