When I left the public garden just after ten, I literally ran into a stationery store on Boylston Street. I bought three large manila envelopes, and I made two more copies of the signed statements of Frank Gallagher and Martin Shortbridge. I put a copy of Loring’s, Gallagher’s, and Shortbridge’s statements in each of the envelopes and sealed them.
I carried the first set to the United States Attorney’s office in the federal building. I handed it personally to Pete Styles, the United States Attorney. I wanted him to know whom it came from in case he had any questions. I knew that he’d make the most of it under the federal corruption in public office statutes and that old beloved gangbuster, RICO-the Racketeering Influenced and Corrupt Organizations statute. Pete was as good a person as ever sat in that office. If the case carried him to the Senate or beyond, the people would be the winners.
My second stop was the Suffolk County district attorney’s office. I handed the envelope to the deputy DA, Alice Wright, since Ms. Lamb, the DA, was at the moment in courtroom 809, selecting a jury to convict Anthony Bradley. Our soon-to-be-former DA was also implicated in Loring’s statement.
That was all in the line of duty. My third stop was a labor of love. I removed the statement of Shortbridge from the third envelope because of my agreement to keep it out of the public eye “if possible.” The chances were that it was an empty gesture, since he would undoubtedly be smeared by the exposure of corruption that was about to cut loose.
I hand-carried that golden third envelope with the statements of Gallagher and Loring and laid it in the hands of my buddy, Mike Loftus, the best columnist to whom the Globe ever gave the power of the pen.
He was surprised at my presence.
“Michael, aren’t you supposed to be at trial in the Bradley case?”
“I am. I’m out of here. I just wanted you to know for sure where that envelope came from. It’s exactly what it purports to be. I’m giving you an exclusive with my blessings. Just one request. The whole business is going to blow your socks off. You’ll have material for columns through Labor Day. What I’m asking is this. For your first column, will you focus on the stuff about Lex Devlin? It’s just a request. There’re no strings.”
He looked at me with a funny look. “What the hell’s in here, Mike?”
There were no smiles when I said it. “It’s what every reporter dreams about. Read it and weep.”