Trap (9781476793177) (3 page)

Gallo still had his supporters in the media, including Stupenagel, who wrote a scathing piece about the “politically motivated attack on charter schools by drumming up a ridiculous charge against one of the charter schools movement's bright young stars.” The reporter noted the connection between Monroe and Stone and accused the two of “colluding in order to preserve the union's power and influence.”

Monroe denied any involvement in Gallo's troubles. However, Stone shot back at the critics in media interviews by noting “we don't make the laws; we are charged with enforcing them and prosecuting those who break them. We believe, and the grand jury agreed, that there is sufficient evidence indicating that Mr. Gallo broke the law, stole equipment owned by the taxpayers, and needs to answer for that. However, we will try this case in court, not the media.”

Gallo had his other supporters, too, chief among them Rose Lubinsky. She had taken the fight to the media, some of which questioned the motives behind Stone's prosecution of Gallo. The district attorney took a lot of heat, but she didn't cave. She knew the power and money she craved relied on the support from the teachers union. Stone and Monroe were determined to create a chilling effect on other charter supporters by prosecuting and breaking Gallo.

Besides
, Monroe thought,
if Stone backed off, Gallo would have become the darling of the media and Stone would have taken a major political hit.
By sticking to her “we don't make the laws” mantra and going forward with the charges against Gallo she could attack the charter school system and argue that she had no choice but to follow up on the case presented to her by the police.

Unfortunately for Gallo, neither he nor the charter system was insured for this sort of legal battle. Determined to save his freedom and reputation against the false charges, he spent his life savings and mortgaged his home. The school was forced to close.

Told that Gallo was desperate, Monroe arranged a meeting. He told the young man that not only could he make the charges go away, but “I like your spunk, kid” and that he would hire him as his personal aide. It was a lifeline thrown by the devil, but Gallo grabbed it.

In the few years since, Gallo had sealed the deal by becoming the union's chief anti-charter school advocate. Of course, he knew where the warts were in the charter system and how best to attack the public's perception of its schools. He'd become such a vocal opponent of “elitist, racist” charter schools that Monroe sometimes wondered if the young man truly believed what he was saying.

Broken psychologically, financially, and physically, Gallo had taken to the hefty union salary and “perks” like a newborn to his mother's breast. The young man with the cool car, tailored suits, and a 3,000-square-foot condo in Brooklyn Heights looking out over the East River at the Manhattan skyline seemed a different character altogether from the fiery crusader for education reform and charter schools.

However, Monroe's strategic conversion of Gallo had not destroyed the charter school movement. Indeed, those in the association had circled the wagons and then led by Rose Lubinsky had become even more cohesive and determined. Also a leader in the New York City Jewish community, Lubinsky was beyond reproach and there was not going to be any going after her on trumped-up charges. Not in Manhattan where New York County DA Roger “Butch” Karp was impervious to outside pressure.

Lubinsky rightfully blamed Monroe and Stone for her protégé's downfall. A brilliant strategist, she had built her political, financial, and academic bona fides upon the charter schools' quantified academic success. Their statewide reading and math test scores embarrassingly overwhelmed its failing public school counterparts. Her efforts were about to finally culminate in a bill currently before the New York legislature that would not only increase state funding for charter schools but also increase its numbers, as well as implement a voucher system allowing school parents to place their children in success-driven schools and avoid dangerous and underperforming public schools.

Under Monroe's direction, the union and its backers had attacked the proposed legislation, throwing money at politicians, advertising agencies, and “pay-as-you-go” protesters who assembled outside Albany's capitol building to wave their signs and shout slogans that Monroe's hired public relations firm dreamed up. However, his lobbyists had just that morning told him that public sentiment in favor of charter schools and vouchers was running at such a high level that even the greediest of Albany's corrupt public servants were running scared.

Demonstrators in favor of the charter school legislation were petitioning Albany's legislators in overwhelming numbers. Already, there were in excess of fifty thousand students on charter school waiting lists. Guided by Lubinsky, the New York Charter Schools Association had launched an adroit advertising campaign that was long on the facts reflecting academic achievement and devoid of contentious mudslinging. Several of the charter school ads struck a note of conciliation in an effort to appeal to the reform-minded members of the union as “partners in our children's education.” And that alone, according to Monroe's political advisers, was enough to cause a seismic shift beneath the power-structure of the union and his position in it.

Something had to be done and that was why Rose Lubinsky was sitting across from him at the Jay Street Bar and why he'd brought Gallo along hoping that the young man might appeal to her emotionally. But in body language and tone she obviously didn't want to be there.

“Need another beer, Micah?” he asked.

“No, I'm good, thanks,” Gallo replied, still not looking at his former mentor.

“Suit yourself,” Monroe said before turning his attention back to Lubinsky. “I hear congratulations are in order . . . you have a book coming out about your life?”

“That's right, but I'm not here to socialize, Monroe,” Lubinsky said, her voice hard and clipped, which brought out the slight accent of her native Poland.

Monroe smiled though he personally loathed and feared the woman. He spread his hands. “I was hoping we might reach an accommodation on the assembly bill,” he said.

“The New York Charter School Fairness in Education Act you mean,” Lubinsky said without humor.

“Yeah, that one.”

“Accommodation,” Lubinsky snorted derisively. “You mean you're going down in flames and trying to save your bacon.”

Monroe's smile disappeared. “It's going to be a hard fight either way, and in the meantime a lot of money is being tossed around that would be better off spent on students and teachers' salaries.”

This time, Lubinsky laughed so hard that tears sprang to her eyes. “Tommy Monroe, that's a rich one,” she said when she was able to pull herself together. “As if that has ever been your priority.” She leaned across the table and glared. “Public schools in the five boroughs are all but war zones, Monroe. Even metal detectors don't deter the violence and threats. Teachers and students who want an education are caught in the crossfire, and what have you done about it, except line your pockets with union dues.”

Lubinsky glanced over at Gallo, who blinked twice and looked away. “When I started as a schoolteacher,” she continued, “I was all for the union. Someone needed to stand up for better wages and working conditions. We needed tenure to make sure the politicos weren't firing teachers or censoring those who didn't agree with them. But somewhere along the line, the union lost its way. Guys like you took over and created your own little fiefdoms and dropped the ball for the students and the good teachers. Now you can't get rid of bad teachers, not without a lot of money and time; even if you can get them out of the classroom, they're put into your ‘rubber rooms,' where they hang out on the computer and run their own businesses or chat on Facebook, all on the taxpayer's dime. But just for another good laugh, tell me about this ‘accommodation' you're offering.”

All semblance of friendliness left Monroe's face. He sat back in his chair and drained the remaining bourbon left in his glass. He then waved for the waitress to bring him another shot.

“You get the bill withdrawn,” he said, “and we both announce a joint committee to study how the public school system and charter schools can work together toward a mutual goal of providing a good education to all children. We meet and hammer out a compromise we can all live with, and next year, the union won't oppose the legislation; hell, we might even cosponsor it with you. It would be a win-win all the way around, isn't that right, Micah.”

At the mention of his name, Gallo picked up his head and looked Lubinsky in the eyes for the first time. “Everybody can't go to charter schools, Rose,” he said quietly. “If this bill goes through, it will hurt all those kids who attend public schools.”

Looking at her former protégé Lubinsky shook her head. “So keep the status quo, Micah? The system you had to fight and claw your way out of?” She tilted her head and smiled tightly. “So that fat cats like this man you've allied yourself with can live the good life while public schools swirl down the drain, taking all those kids with them? We offer a chance for the kids to capture the dream and, yes, hope, Micah, and the possibility of change. I can't believe I'm hearing this from you of all people.”

Lubinsky turned back to Monroe. “Perhaps if you'd suggested this compromise years ago instead of protecting your little fiefdom, and ruining lives and careers along the way, I might have trusted you,” she said. “Even now I'd possibly consider it for the sake of the children if I had any reason to believe that you'd honor your word. But I don't. You're a bully and as far as I'm concerned a criminal; now you're just trying to stall this legislation and hope it goes away. You've failed the kids, you've failed their parents, and you've failed the teachers. I don't want anything to do with you and your accommodations.”

Monroe scowled, then leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “I don't like you and you don't like me, but I'm sure we can still work this out. And I'm sure I can find a way to sweeten the pot; we'll call it a . . .”

“A bribe, Monroe?” Lubinsky finished the sentence. “I expected as much. It's why there's a section in the bill calling for an independent audit of the Greater New York School District and the union. We'd like to know where all of that money has been going before we start a new budget process, and that probably concerns you more than anything, doesn't it?”

The waitress arrived with the bourbon, and Monroe downed half of it in a single gulp before slamming the glass back down on the table. “I got nothing to hide,” he snarled, then pointed a finger at her face. “But you're fucking with the wrong guy.”

Lubinsky's mouth twisted. “It didn't take long for the wolf to drop the sheepskin disguise,” she said, then sighed. “But I could not give in to your bribes or your threats, Monroe. The guilt I would feel abandoning all those children to the sort of education you and your ilk provide would be too much.” She paused to look at Gallo. “I learned a long time ago that guilt is a cancer that eats at your soul.”

Monroe started to say something back but Lubinsky held up her hand as she stood. “Don't bother; this conversation's over.” She smiled at Gallo. “Micah, you will always be welcome to return to us, but I think you need to look inside yourself before it is too late.” With that she turned and walked away without looking back.

Watching her go, Monroe's face turned beet red with anger. He finished the rest of his drink and waved at the waitress for yet another. He glanced at Micah, who sat staring at his beer. “Don't let her bother you, kid,” he said. “Fucking Jews are always acting like they are above it all. It's nice when you get to pick and choose students for their precious little elitist schools, but what about the other million kids?”

Gallo nodded but didn't say anything. Monroe scowled and picked his cell phone off the table and punched in a speed dial number.

“She's not going for it,” he said into the receiver. He listened for a moment and turned slightly away from Gallo. “Goddamn it. We can't risk this bill passing.” He listened some more. “Yeah, well, both of our asses will be on the line if they ever start looking at the books.”

K
ARP SMILED WHEN A KNOCK
on the door of his office and the subsequent opening of it revealed the large, muscular frame of Detective Clay Fulton. “Good afternoon, Clay, what brings you to my inner sanctum?” he asked.

Fulton, the head of the squad of New York Police Department detectives assigned to assist the district attorney of New York County with investigations, didn't return the smile. “Hey Butch. Got a minute?”

“Yeah, sure,” Karp replied. “I was about to head out of here to meet up with the boys. A friend is giving a talk at the Third Avenue synagogue this evening that we wanted to catch, but I got time. What's up?”

He and Fulton had known each other since Karp was a wet-behind-the-ears assistant district attorney working for the legendary New York DA Francis Garrahy and Fulton was a rookie cop. In a sense, they'd grown up in the system together—by-the-book prosecutor and hard-nosed detective—and when Karp won the election as district attorney years after Garrahy's death and two successors' tenure, one of his first acts was to ask his friend to run the elite DAO detective squad. There was not a more honest or dedicated crime fighter in Gotham than the former college football All-American. Karp could tell by the look on his face that this was not a social call.

“We got another one,” Fulton said as he walked across the wood-paneled office and placed a copy of the evening
New York Post
on Karp's desk. “Seen this?”

Screaming off the top of the front page in the paper's typical tabloid style was the headline: Skinheads Rampage in Central Park! A triple-stacked, sub-headline followed beneath with: Elderly Jewish Couple Hospitalized. 7th Hate Crime This Winter. Cops Apparently Clueless.