Former Chicago Ald. Ed Burke sentenced to 2 years in prison in corruption case, fined $2 million

CHICAGO — Former Chicago Ald. Edward Burke was sentenced Monday to 2 years in federal prison in a corruption case that rocked city politics and ended the Democratic stalwart’s storied and controversial six-decade career.

U.S. District Judge Virginia Kendall handed down the sentence, and a $2 million fine, after a lengthy hearing that featured Burke making a brief statement to the court on his own behalf.

Kendall said she had never received so many letters vouching for a defendant’s good character, and seemed touched by the stories of everyday people to whom Burke reached out, unprompted, to help. The sentence was well below what prosecutors sought.

The two-year period of criminal conduct for which Burke was convicted does not wipe away those decades of good works, Kendall said. But the courts have to deter other public officials from becoming “part of this erosion, part of this chipping away at our democracy, really whittling away at our rule of law,” she said.

The hefty $2 million fine is unusual, Kendall acknowledged. But the money will go to help victims of crime in which the defendants are not so wealthy, she said.

“I think that really does send a message, if you want to commit public corruption by being greedy, then the disgorgement of your own funds will go toward the people,” she said.

Burke did not appear to react to the sentence. Moments earlier, though not known for his brevity on the City Council floor, he kept his remarks to the judge very short.

Saying he was blessed to have a good family and a long career, Burke, reading from a piece of paper, said he was “sorry to see that career end like this.”

“The blame for this is mine and mine alone. I regret the pain and the sorrow that I have caused my family and my dear friends and I would ask your honor to have compassion and mercy,” he said. “Whatever amount of time God has decided to leave me on this earth, I’d like to spend as much of it as possible with my devoted wife my wonderful children and grandchildren.”

Burke had walked into the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse shortly after 9:15 a.m., dressed in a dark suit, green tie and black pocket square, passing a horde of news cameras in the lobby without comment. He was accompanied by his wife, former Illinois Supreme Court Justice Anne Burke, who bowed her head and appeared to be crying as Burke read his statement.

The hearing kicked off with attorneys attempting to put a price tag on Burke’s crimes: The money that was lost, or potentially lost, due to his efforts at extortion and bribery. That number could affect the guidelines under which Burke is sentenced.

Burke abused his power “again and again and again and again over a period of years, working in his own best interest instead of the public’s,” Assistant U.S. Attorney Sarah Streicker said, asking Kendall to sentence the “seasoned professional” to serious time.

“His conduct hurt not only the specific victims in his case, but all residents of the city of Chicago who have a right to honest government,” she said. “… That trust will not easily be repaired.”

In return, Burke attorney Charles Sklarsky urged the judge to consider the deluge of letters from people vouching for Burke’s character and good works.

“Ed Burke doesn’t deserve compassion because he’s a public official or he’s somehow above the law – but he’s not below the law either – he deserves compassion because he’s done so much good with his life, not only for well-heeled people but for strangers,” Sklarsky said. “… He’s done it with no expectation of anything in return.”

Attorneys spent much of the morning trying to establish opposing potential losses attributable to Burke’s conduct. Streicker put the loss estimate in the case at a staggering $829,525.

The value of the Binny’s pole-sign incident in the case alone was more than $612,000, Streicker said, given the money that could have been lost long-term if the pole sign was not approved. If Burke had not shut down construction on a Burger King in an attempt to squeeze its developers, it would have made about $65,000; the value of the Old Post Office bribe to Burke was $105,000; and the Field Museum salary that might have been offered to Burke’s goddaughter was $47,500.

Burke attorney Chris Gair attacked many of the government numbers as “pure speculation,” saying there was no guarantee that Burke’s goddaughter would actually have gotten the Field Museum job, and it was inappropriate to assume the Binny’s lease would have been extended decades into the future.

“There’s no reason to speculate about the future,” Gair said, arguing the actual loss related to the pole sign was closer to $60,000.

Burke’s attorneys called two witnesses to explain their calculations: an analyst who looked at the potential losses related to the Binny’s pole sign and an attorney who formerly worked with Burke’s law firm, who explained the firm was paid on contingency – that is, only if property-tax appeals were successful.

After nearly three hours of testimony and arguments about the numbers, Kendall determined that, for purposes of the sentencing guidelines, the losses from Burke’s corruption totaled $215,877.07.

Burke, 80, was convicted by a jury in December of racketeering conspiracy, bribery and attempted extortion in a series of schemes to use his considerable City Hall clout to try and win business from developers for his private property tax law firm.

Among them were efforts to woo the New York-based developers of the $600 million renovation of the Old Post Office, extorting the Texas owners of the Burger King, who were seeking to renovate a restaurant in Burke’s 14th Ward, and intervening on behalf of a developer in Portage Park who wanted help getting the pole sign approved for a new Binny’s Beverage Depot location.

Burke was also found guilty of threatening to hold up a fee increase for the Field Museum because he was angry the museum had ignored an internship application from his goddaughter, who is the daughter of former 32nd Ward Ald. Terry Gabinski, Burke’s longtime friend.

Kendall has a wide range of options when it comes to fashioning a punishment for Burke.

Prosecutors have asked for 10 years in prison, saying Burke’s schemes, many of which were captured on undercover wiretapped recordings, show he was no novice when it came to graft, but a savvy and sophisticated professional when it came to identifying his marks.

Burke’s legal team, meanwhile, has asked for an alternative to prison such as home confinement, arguing he’s in ill health and that his lapses do not erase the life of a “fundamentally decent man” who did a lot of good for his city over a six-decade career.

People hoping to get into Judge Kendall’s main courtroom on the 25th floor assembled early, including Burke’s former ward aide, Peter Andrews, who was acquitted of extortion charges at the trial in December.

Burke will have an opportunity to speak to the judge directly. He’s not required to do so, and judges typically assure defendants they will not hold their silence against them.

If Burke does choose to speak, the notably loquacious parliamentarian might be forced to walk a fine line, apologizing but perhaps stopping short of admitting guilt, as he’s expected to appeal his conviction to a higher court.

Kendall cleared the case for sentencing in a 47-page ruling late Friday denying Burke’s requests for a new trial or outright acquittal on key counts, acknowledging Burke’s “storied career in Chicago politics” but standing solidly behind the verdicts.

In fact, it is the context of Burke’s powerful political career that provides support for jurors’ verdicts on some of the counts, Kendall wrote, such as the guilty findings related to his tempestuous exchanges with Field Museum officials.

“Those same words spoken by a layperson could possibly constitute blowing off steam. But spoken by the longest-serving alderman and Chairman of the Committee on Finance during a phone call seeking acquiescence for their pending fee increase — that he had previously opposed — means the implications and consequences are night and day,” Kendall wrote.

“That is to say, a jury could reasonably conclude that Burke knew what he was doing and how his words affected (the museum officials), who ultimately kowtowed to Burke’s threats.”

The sentence requested by the U.S. attorney’s office would mean that Burke could very well die in prison. But a lengthy term behind bars is warranted, prosecutors say, given the “mountain” of evidence in the case — including hundreds of undercover recordings — that captured Burke in his own words and make it “obvious that Burke was no novice when it came to corruption.”

“Burke operated as a seasoned professional when it came to identifying new potential clients for his law firm and exploiting his power and position in order to secure their business,” prosecutors wrote in a recent court filing asking for 121 months behind bars.

To bolster their argument about the cost of Burke’s crimes, prosecutors estimated the overall financial loss he caused amounted to nearly $830,000.

Lawyers for Burke, meanwhile, argued the trial evidence showed Burke “did not receive a single penny” from his offenses, “nor did he cause any serious financial harm to any party.” Even the witnesses who were allegedly being shaken down testified Burke’s demeanor was “respectful, professional, and friendly — never aggressive, threatening, nor intimidating,” Burke’s filing stated.

They also have submitted an avalanche of character letters from friends, family and clergy, as well as current and former politicians, judges and others in the legal community.

Burke’s high-profile, six-week trial featured some 38 witnesses and more than 100 secretly recorded videos and wiretapped recordings, offering a fascinating behind-the-scenes look at one of Chicago’s top political power brokers at work.

At the heart of the case were dozens of wiretapped phone calls and secretly recorded meetings made by Daniel Solis, the former 25th Ward alderman who turned FBI mole after being confronted in 2016 with his own wrongdoing.

In closing arguments, prosecutors put up on large video screens a series of now-notorious statements made by Burke on the recordings. Among them: “The cash register has not rung yet,” “They can go (expletive) themselves,” and “Did we land the tuna?”

Regardless of what Burke’s final sentence is, Monday’s hearing will provide a coda to the downfall of a political titan.

The hearing is among the most anticipated proceedings in years in Chicago’s federal court, a building that has seen countless politicians, both Republicans and Democrats, handed prison terms, a veritable parade of alderpersons, county commissioners, state representatives, senators, governors and even a former speaker of the U.S. House.

But perhaps none wielded so much power for so long as Burke, the head of the vaunted Finance Committee who not only worked the city’s purse strings but also was a shrewd ward boss, political tactician and judicial slate-maker.

____