The Gagging of a Show Off
By Harry M. Covert
I noted a few weeks ago that the SWAT-ting of a political gadfly, that is Roger Stone, was an embarrassment to cops of all designations. I’ve changed my mind.
It may have been overkill for the swashbuckling raid in his Florida residence. But, I’ve been in on such maneuvers. They were fun.
Once a miscreant climbed to the attic trying to hide from the law. His giveaway were foot marks on a freshly painted side wall.
The fellow refused to respond to calls to surrender. One of vigilantes, really a sheriff’s deputy, saw his cell phone lying on the living room coffee table. He rang the phone. Instantly, the voice in the ceiling squealed “don’t answer that.”
In a moment, the deputy cocked his revolver, ordered him to drop to the floor, and the law breaker cried “don’t shoot.” He fell to the hardwood and took a foolish swing. In a split second, the blast from a taser solved the situation.
Back to Roger Stone’s morning arrest. He has been quite a smart alec – and a horse’s patoot – during this “get Trump” movement. In defense of the federal agents, they prevented any theatrics from Stone. Don’t take chances. I can only wish I’d been invited to the early morning festivities.
Mr. Stone may have finally learned a lesson in his custodial moment. I doubt it. That has been his livelihood.
When he dared to Instagram a federal judge picture with a crosshairs in the photo, he made a huge mistake. It was not funny. In fact, over the top serious, unimaginable. Her honor didn’t laugh and gagged him. She didn’t need any duct tape.
Insulting a local, state or federal judge is stupid beyond measure. Mr. Stone is a fortunate soul that the federal judge didn’t lock him up until his trial date. I expected him to join inmates in the District of Columbia’s unpleasant jail house. Possibly he could have joined his buddy Paul Manafort in Alexandria’s William G. Truesdale Adult Detention Center. The story. The story!
I can think of numerous jurists who would take serious offense at Stone’s antics. To blatantly insult a sitting Washington federal judge, especially one to hear his case, is completely foolhardy.
Somehow, had Henry Hudson, senior District Judge of the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia, been Stone’s target, there would be no chuckles.
People unfamiliar with courts of justice these days need to pay attention. I can recall many times when judges took exception to numbskulls. One particular case involved a drug runner who appeared in circuit court for sentencing wearing Michael Jordan sports hat, jersey, pants and shoes. Before sending the fellow to the penitentiary, the judge had a court deputy drive him home to dress in proper courtroom attire.
On another occasion a defendant expectorated – spit – in the face of His Honor and enjoyed 12 months and one day on a state road gang as guards wielded shotguns. That meant serving every day of the sentence.
Roger Stone has kept his persona in the public conscience for a long time now. His time of trying to steal the limelight is probably reaching the end of the road.
Whatever he may or may not know about goings on in the Trump Tower or Ecuadorian London Embassy probably doesn’t matter a whit. In this day fibbing or mis-remembering to federal agents warrants a nice jail vacation. Don’t kid yourself, any house of correction is not a happy place.
Mr. Stone better be on his best behavior wearing his stylish togs and his best spectacles at his next date with Judge Amy Berman Jackson.
No more showing off with arms raised high in “Vees” for Victory. He’s no Winston Churchill. Right now he is a mute.
This column has appeared in The Tentacle.