Hedgecock Era Draws to a Close in Rapid Series of Events : Setbacks in Courtroom Spell Doom for Mayor

In the end, there was Roger Hedgecock--no longer mayor, but insisting that his performance in that office was cause to show compassion in judgment; convicted and awaiting sentencing for his crimes, but calling on God to be his witness that he did not set out to violate the law.

“I’ve never been in trouble with the law before,” an unblinking Hedgecock told San Diego Superior Court Judge William L. Todd Jr. as a grueling day in court drew near its close. “I’m here today in very deep trouble with the law. And I ask for your mercy.”

Hedgecock almost missed the chance Tuesday to make a final statement in his own behalf. Todd had already begun to read his judgment in the matter of the People vs. Hedgecock when defense lawyer Oscar Goodman interrupted and won time for a brief comment from the man who had resigned the city’s highest office a little more than an hour before.

It was that kind of day for Hedgecock, his defense team and his family, who stood by through more than six hours of proceedings in Todd’s small, stuffy courtroom--a day that moved inexorably to a result they had expected but were not entirely prepared to bear.

“It hurts too much to laugh, but I’m too old to cry,” Hedgecock said, paraphrasing Abraham Lincoln in announcing his resignation to reporters outside the courtroom.

In fact, Hedgecock did laugh at times during the proceedings--joking with Goodman, gesturing to reporters who filled the jury box, returning from a lunch break with a broad smile on his face.

He did not cry, though--not when Todd rejected his plea for a third trial; not when the judge announced Hedgecock would be sentenced, removing any hopes he could retain his office; not as he declared that he had resigned his post, and not when Todd sentenced him to 365 days in the custody of the San Diego County sheriff.

Hedgecock entered the courtroom with Goodman a few minutes before the hearing’s 10 a.m. starting time. There were friends already in the room. Hedgecock’s wife, Cindy, and his father, Les, were seated in the front row of the gallery. Kevin Sweeney, a mayoral aide, and Nancy MacHutchin, Hedgecock’s chief fund-raiser, sat beside them all day.

The remainder of the 40-odd seats for spectators were filled with courthouse regulars, lawyers curious about the celebrated proceedings and a press corps that kibitzed during breaks and raised audible sounds of note-taking while the hearing was in session.

Nothing in the hearing went Hedgecock’s way.

First, Goodman argued for a chance to review reports from the state attorney general’s investigation of alleged jury tampering in the mayor’s retrial. But Todd, after perusing the 100 pages of material for more than an hour, ruled that the documents were irrelevant.

Next, Goodman made his arguments on the substance of the jury-tampering allegations. It was clear, he contended, that Bailiff Al Burroughs Jr. had exceeded the bounds of propriety by talking to jurors about legal issues in the case.

“If it was ‘How’s the weather today, Mr. Burroughs?’ ‘The weather’s fine,’ then nobody’s going to complain,” Goodman said. “If it was ‘How’s reasonable doubt today, Mr. Burroughs?’ that requires a new trial.”

After lunch, it was Deputy Dist. Atty. Charles Wickersham’s turn to speak.

“This wasn’t a close case,” he said, arguing that none of the alleged misconduct constituted tampering that could have affected the trial’s outcome. “There wasn’t even a defense put on.”

Todd’s eyes never rose from the papers on his desk. As the lawyers spoke, he shuffled through documents, wrote notes, moved pages from one stack to another. When Wickersham was through and Goodman had made his last brief rebuttal, Todd finally glanced up and declared another recess at 1:40 p.m.

The judge returned to the bench an hour later, his stern and even tones squelching whatever hopes Hedgecock may have harbored that his conviction would be reversed.

“The motion for new trial is denied,” he ruled about 3 p.m.

To Goodman’s apparent amazement, Todd announced that he intended to sentence Hedgecock 30 minutes later. Goodman protested that he was unprepared, because he had expected the sentencing to occur at a separate hearing in a few days. But Todd delayed the sentencing only until 4 p.m.

Cindy Hedgecock moved to her husband’s side. They whispered together for a few moments, the mayor saying something about contacting a bail bondsman. Goodman picked up the phone on Bailiff Andy Morgan’s desk and called other members of Hedgecock’s legal team for advice on the impending sentencing hearing.

In the hallway outside Department 23, reporters and photographers crowded the doorway. When Hedgecock press aide Mel Buxbaum and David Nielsen, the mayor’s chief of staff, squeezed into the courtroom, a rumor began that Hedgecock would emerge to announce that he was quitting.

A few yards away, Stanley Bohensky was venting his outrage.

Bohensky, one of two jurors in the mayor’s retrial whose accounts formed the basis of the tampering charges, had been in the hallway all day, but he had heard how Todd questioned his credibility in dismissing the motion for a new trial.

“I anticipated it,” Bohensky said. “I wanted to see how far Todd would go. And he went all the way.”

About 3:40 p.m., Hedgecock stepped into the hallway. He thanked his family, his staff and the voters who gave him a chance to be mayor. And he said his resignation had taken effect 40 minutes earlier. There was a smattering of sympathetic applause.

On schedule, the court reconvened at 4 p.m. to sentence Hedgecock. Goodman lamented that he was unprepared to present a report he had commissioned on Hedgecock’s background. But he told Todd that Hedgecock’s family was “exemplary” and that San Diegans called Hedgecock “the best mayor San Diego’s ever had.” Cindy Hedgecock dabbed at tears as Goodman asked Todd “to temper your judgment with mercy.”

His voice rising, Wickersham said the ex-mayor merited no compassion.

“The way he’s conducted himself throughout the entire case has been one of aggressive, constant attacking of the system, attacking of the court, of the district attorney’s office, impugning the motivation of everyone involved in the case,” Wickersham said. “His attitude is cavalier. And I believe it’s arrogant, because he knows what the law is.”

Finally, Hedgecock spoke on his own behalf.

“As God is my witness,” he said, “I did not intend to violate these laws in an intentional way. . . . (He then said he supported the city’s campaign laws at the time they were adopted.) . . . I’ve never taken a cavalier attitude toward them.”

The former mayor stood for sentencing.

“Your conduct,” Todd declared about 4:20 p.m., “is reprehensible in every sense of the word, because you violated the public trust completely, over and over again.”

The sentence--a year in county custody, three years of probation, a $1,000 fine--was almost anti-climactic, because Goodman immediately announced that Hedgecock would appeal, postponing the imposition of any penalty.

Court was over.

Hedgecock kissed his wife. Buxbaum told the reporters Hedgecock had nothing more to say.

“The mayor”--Buxbaum corrected himself--”Mr. Hedgecock is going home,” he said.

And one last time, Hedgecock pressed through a crowd of photographers and cameramen that followed him to an elevator and out into the light rain on the street below. With his wife in the driver’s seat, he climbed into his car and drove away.