By Ian Tuttle
Angela
Corey, by all accounts, is no Atticus Finch. She is “one hell of a trial
lawyer,” says a Florida defense attorney who has known her for three decades —
but the woman who has risen to national prominence as the “tough
as nails” state attorney who prosecuted George Zimmerman is known for
scorching the earth. And some of her prosecutorial conduct has been, well,
troubling at best.
Corey, a Jacksonville native, took
a degree in marketing from Florida State University before pursuing her J.D. at
the University of Florida. She became a Florida prosecutor in 1981 and tried
everything from homicides to juvenile cases in the ensuing 26 years. In 2008,
Corey was elected state attorney for Florida’s Fourth Judicial Circuit, taking
over from Harry Shorstein — the five-term state attorney who had fired her from
his office a year earlier, citing “long-term issues” regarding her supervisory
performance.
When Corey came in, she cleaned house. Corey fired
half of the office’s investigators, two-fifths of its victim advocates, a
quarter of its 35 paralegals, and 48 other support staff — more than
one-fifth of the office. Then she sent a letter to Florida’s senators
demanding that they oppose Shorstein’s pending nomination as a U.S.
attorney. “I told them he should not hold a position of authority in his
community again, because of his penchant for using the grand jury for
personal vendettas,” she wrote.
Corey knows about personal vendettas. They seem to be her specialty. When Ron Littlepage, a journalist for the Florida Times-Union,
wrote a column criticizing her handling of the Christian Fernandez case
— in which Corey chose to prosecute a twelve-year-old boy for
first-degree murder, who wound up locked in solitary confinement in an
adult jail prior to his court date — she “fired off a two-page,
single-spaced letter on official state-attorney letterhead hinting at
lawsuits for libel.”
And
that was moderate. When Corey was appointed to handle the Zimmerman
case, Talbot “Sandy” D’Alemberte, a former president of both the
American Bar Association and Florida State University, criticized the
decision: “I cannot imagine a worse choice for a prosecutor to serve in
the Sanford case. There is nothing in Angela Corey’s background that
suits her for the task, and she cannot command the respect of people who
care about justice.” Corey responded by making a public-records request
of the university for all e-mails, text messages, and phone messages in
which D’Alemberte had mentioned Fernandez. Like Littlepage, D’Alemberte
had earlier criticized Corey’s handling of the Fernandez case.
Not many people are willing to cross Corey. A Florida attorney I
spoke with declined to go on record because of “concerns about
retaliation” — that attorney has pending cases that will require Corey’s
cooperation. The attorney mentioned colleagues who have refused to
speak to the media for the same reason. And to think: D’Alemberte
crossed Corey twice. He should get a medal.
But what these instances point to is something much more alarming than Corey’s less-than-warm relations with her peers.
In
June 2012, Alan Dershowitz, a well-known defense attorney who has been a
professor at Harvard Law School for nearly half a century, criticized
Corey for her affidavit in the Zimmerman case. Making use of a quirk of
Florida law that gives prosecutors, for any case except first-degree
murder, the option of filing an affidavit with the judge instead of
going to a grand jury, Corey filed an affidavit that, according to
Dershowitz, “willfully and deliberately omitted” crucial exculpatory
evidence: namely, that Trayvon Martin was beating George Zimmerman
bloody at the time of the fatal gunshot. So Corey avoided a grand jury,
where her case likely would not have held water, and then withheld
evidence in her affidavit to the judge. “It was a perjurious affidavit,”
Dershowitz tells me, and that comes with serious consequences:
“Submitting a false affidavit is grounds for disbarment.”
Shortly after Dershowitz’s criticisms, Harvard Law School’s dean’s
office received a phone call. When the dean refused to pick up, Angela
Corey spent a half hour demanding of an office-of-communications
employee that Dershowitz be fired. According to Dershowitz, Corey
threatened to sue Harvard, to try to get him disbarred, and also to sue
him for slander and libel. Corey also told the communications employee
that she had assigned a state investigator — an employee of the State of
Florida, that is — to investigate Dershowitz. “That’s an abuse of
office right there,” Dershowitz says.
What
happened in the weeks and months that followed was instructive.
Dershowitz says that he was flooded with correspondence from people
telling him that this is Corey’s well-known M.O. He says numerous
sources — lawyers who had sparred with Corey in the courtroom, lawyers
who had worked with and for her, and even multiple judges — informed him
that Corey has a history of vigorously attacking any and all who
criticize her. But it’s worse than that: Correspondents told him that
Corey has a history of overcharging and withholding evidence.
The Zimmerman trial is a clear case of the former and a probable case
of the latter. Zimmerman was charged with second-degree murder, also
known as “depraved mind” murder. The case law for that charge, an
attorney who has worked in criminal prosecution outside Florida tells
me, is near-unanimous: It almost never applies to one-on-one encounters.
Second-degree murder is the madman who fires indiscriminately into a
crowd or unlocks the lions’ cage at the zoo. “Nothing in the facts of
this case approaches that.” Which Angela Corey, a veteran prosecutor,
should have known, and a grand jury would have told her. In fact, both
the initial police investigation and the original state attorney in
charge of the case had determined exactly that: There was no evidence of
any crime, much less second-degree murder.
But that did not stop
Corey from zealously overcharging and — the facts suggest — withholding
evidence to ensure that that charge stuck.
Still, by the end of
the case it was clear that the jury was unlikely to convict Zimmerman of
second-degree murder; hence the prosecution’s addition of a
manslaughter charge — as well as its attempt to add a charge for
third-degree murder by way of child abuse — after the trial had closed.
“In 50 years of practice I’ve never seen anything like it,” says
Dershowitz. It’s a permissible maneuver, but as a matter of professional
ethics it’s a low blow.
Corey’s post-trial performance has been
less than admirable as well. Asked in a prime-time interview with HLN
how she would describe George Zimmerman, Corey responded, “Murderer.”
Attorneys who spoke with me called her refusal to acknowledge the
validity of the jury’s verdict everything from “disgusting” to
“disgraceful.”
But will Corey ever be disciplined for
prosecutorial abuses? It’s unlikely. State attorneys cannot be brought
before the bar while they remain in office. Complaints can be filed
against Corey, but they will be deferred until she is no longer state
attorney. The governor can remove her from office, but otherwise her
position — and her license — are safe.
Meanwhile, those who speak
out against her continue to be mistreated. Ben Kruidbos (pronounced
CRIED-boss), the IT director at Corey’s state-attorney office, was fired
last week — one month after testifying during the Zimmerman trial that
Corey had withheld from defense attorneys evidence obtained from Trayvon
Martin’s cell phone. Corey’s office contends that Kruidbos was fired
for poor job performance and for leaking personnel records. The
termination notice delivered to Kruidbos last Friday read: “You have
proven to be completely untrustworthy. Because of your deliberate,
wilful and unscrupulous actions, you can never again be trusted to step
foot in this office.” Less than two months before this letter, Kruidbos
had received a raise for “meritorious performance.”
The records in
question — Kruidbos maintains he had nothing to do with leaking them —
revealed that Corey used $235,000 in taxpayer money to upgrade her
pension and that of her co-prosecutor in the Zimmerman case, Bernie de
la Rionda. The upgrade was legal, but Harry Shorstein, Corey’s
predecessor, had said previously that using taxpayer funds to upgrade
pensions was not “proper.”
Meanwhile, while Kruidbos has been
forced out of the state attorney’s office, the managing director who
wrote his termination letter — one Cheryl Peek — remains. In 1990 Peek
was fired from the same state attorney’s office by Harry Shorstein’s
predecessor, Ed Austin, for jury manipulation. Now, as managing director
for that office, she trains lawyers in professional ethics.
Since
her election, Corey seems to be determinedly purging from the ranks any
who cross her and surrounding herself with inferiors whose ethical
scruples appear to mirror her own. Meanwhile, those she chooses to
victimize — most recently, George Zimmerman — far too often have little
recourse.
“Make crime pay,” Will Rogers once quipped: “Become a
lawyer.” Angela Corey seems to be less interested in making crime pay
than in making her critics pay.
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