Six Degrees of Geoffrey Fieger, or Wednesday Free Association

\scintilla\ n. 1. a minute amount; an iota or trace. 2. A spark; a flash

Geoffrey Fieger:

Not a word of what Mr. Cox told you last week was true;

not a word. There was never a scintilla of evidence that I

had committed a crime. And yet, for the past week, my wife,

and those who care about me, have spent many a sleepless

night and fear-filled days because of Mr. Cox’s reckless and

false accusations.

Fieger does his part for Metro Detroit's twelfth graders by breaking out quite the SAT word during his press conference yesterday. "Scintilla." I must write a poem using the word "scintilla." To call Fieger's rhetoric over-the-top smacks of understatement. In fact, the previous sentence smacks of understatement. He even broke out the "Have you no sense of decency sir, at long last?" line, apparently fancying himself the victim of McCarthy-esque witch hunt.

For readers living outside of Detroit, here's the skinny. Fieger, a well-known (more on this later) local attorney, allegedly conspired to blackmail Michigan Attorney General Mike Cox, threatening to reveal Cox's extra-marital affair if Cox didn't abandon an investigation into some shady campaign donations of Fieger's. Last week Cox and his wife came forward, admitted the affair, and alleged the blackmail. Fieger denied everything. Yesterday, the prosecutor's office announced it was "100% confident" that Fieger and his henchmen had committed blackmail, but didn't have enough evidence to go forward with charges. Juicy stuff, especially for a public hungry for intrigue now that Detroit's ugly mayoral race--a race full of scandal, innuendo, and personal attack--is over.

Here's where the skinny gets phatter. Fieger, Cox, and Prosecutor David Gorcyca all have political histories with one another. Fieger had vied for the A.G. job the year Cox took office and planned to to challenge Cox at the end of his term. They've been flinging partisan mud at one another for years. Gorcyca and Fieger are also political rivals, having spent the late 80s and early 90s fighting one another in the courtroom and in the media over suicide doctor Jack Kevourkian, whom Fieger defended and Gorcyca repeatedly attempted to prosecute. A messy web of motives, rivalries, rhetoric, scandal, and now-destroyed (presumably...but who knows?) political careers.

Here's one reason why it's probably a good thing that I went into teaching instead of journalism, which was my plan during several of my undergraduate years. When the press covers Fieger (as they often do--he's been at the center of various investigations into ethics violations over the years), inevitably his identifying tag line is something like "the prominent local attorney who defended Jack Kevourkian" or "Jack 'Dr. Death' Kevourkian's former lawyer and spokesperson"). If I were covering a Fieger story, I'd probably identify him with something like this: "the brother of Doug Fieger, who fronted 70s L.A. rock band The Knack, whose hit "My Sharona" is one of George W. Bush's favorite songs." Or: "whose brother wrote the song "My Sharona," which was covered by The Chipmunks on their seminal "Chipmunk Punk" record." And that just wouldn't be good journalism, unlike the always-stellar reporting of the Detroit media.

Here's my all-time favorite moment in Detroit media. One summer night in 1997 I was watching a local late edition of the news--the affiliate will remain nameless--and the newscaster--she'll remain nameless too--was covering the following stories: the death of Princess Diana and an Aretha Frankling concert. Maybe you can see where this is going. The transition went a little something like this: "The Princess of Wales may be dead, but the Queen of Soul is alive and kicking." Priceless.

So one year prior to that, I spent the summer (the summer after I graduated from college) as an intern in the office of the press secretary to Detroit Mayor Dennis Archer--writing press releases, helping to plan press conferences, etc. Frequently, I'd pass Geoffrey Fieger in the halls of the City-County Building. Once, he nodded at me and said "G'Morning." A friend recently told me that while waiting in line for an ATM, Fieger drove up to the bank, cut in front of three people and, when given dirty looks for cutting, acknowledged the crowd by saying "Yes, I am Geoffrey Fieger. Good to see you all."

I don't know how I lived away from this city for nine years! Sure is good to be back.