By Sabrina Rodriguez
By Michael E. Miller
By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Luther Campbell
By Kyle Munzenrieder
By Sabrina Rodriguez
By Trevor Bach
By Kyle Munzenrieder
Last week I chanced upon Humberto Hernandez in the parking lot of Miami City Hall. After some small talk, the commissioner began complaining that he and his allies were being singled out by state investigators. Plenty of politicians engage in sleazy election tactics, he huffed. Why doesn't the State Attorney's Office show any interest in them?
"We should sit down and talk about that," I said.
"That would be good," he nodded. "Maybe next week."
If I had known that 48 hours later he'd be in handcuffs on his way back to jail, I would have tried to push up that interview date. Hernandez and six others, his father among them, were arrested last Thursday on charges they participated in a coverup of a massive vote-fraud campaign by his supporters.
At the very least, if I had known his arrest was imminent, I would have passed along a suggestion I was saving for our later conversation: He should wear the exact same set of clothes he wore when he was arrested by the FBI last year after his indictment on bank fraud and money laundering charges. That way, when they perp walk him in front of television cameras, hands cuffed, some viewers might believe they were watching footage of his earlier arrest -- old news.
Oh well. It was just a thought.
During our chat before his most recent bust, Hernandez said he knew the State Attorney's Office couldn't make a case against him for vote fraud and so was coming after him for his role in the alleged coverup. "Every person they bring in they try to make a deal for information about me," he said testily. "They'll do anything to get me."
Although his anger toward Dade State Attorney Katherine Fernandez Rundle was evident, Hernandez spared me the foul-mouthed invective he apparently used during more private moments when discussing Dade's top cop. In secretly tape-recorded conversations, Hernandez allegedly referred to Rundle as "a bitch" and "a whore," and more broadly to her and the investigators on the case as "those fucking scumbags."
Rundle smiled last week when asked if she had listened to those tapes. "I've heard them," she replied, "and I've dismissed them like I do many other personal attacks that happen to a lot of us in law enforcement."
Hernandez's arrest marks an important moment for Rundle and her office. In less than two months, her public corruption unit has brought charges against two of Dade's most pernicious politicians -- County Commissioner Bruce Kaplan and now Hernandez. In April Kaplan resigned from office and was convicted of filing false financial disclosure forms. That case stemmed from a mortgage-fraud investigation that prosecutors agreed to abandon in return for Kaplan's resignation.
Both cases follow other significant investigations by Rundle's public corruption unit, including the prosecution of several Miami police officers in the so-called "throw down" gun case in which an unarmed homeless man was shot. Officers allegedly planted a gun at the crime scene in an attempt to justify the shooting. Rundle's office is also prosecuting a pair of Miami Beach police officers who are accused of shaking down local club owners for payoffs and protection money.
Last December she forced then-Miami Mayor Xavier Suarez to adhere to the city charter and quit interfering in personnel decisions. And her office is also supervising criminal investigations into the county's building department as well as the county's $58 million paving contract with Church & Tower.
For years Rundle was sharply criticized for being lackadaisical in holding public officials accountable. During an interview in her office after Hernandez's arrest, Rundle said she's never taken such criticism seriously. "I really have never felt that those attacks were justified," she asserted.
Whether or not she is willing to acknowledge the difference, Rundle's office today is unmistakably more aggressive than it was only a few years ago. When Rundle took over the office in 1993, the head of the public corruption unit, Joe Centorino, worked only part-time and maintained a private law practice in Broward County. Eventually that changed, and Centorino devoted himself full-time to public corruption cases. The number of attorneys assigned to his unit has also increased. Last year six attorneys were assigned to public corruption; now there are nine.
"What was happening was that Joe was really drowning up there keeping up with the number of complaints -- new complaints that were coming in," Rundle said.
The public corruption unit investigates not only allegations against politicians, but against all public employees, including police officers. In fact, Centorino, who was present during the interview with Rundle, estimated that he spends more time investigating complaints against police officers than any other type of allegation. "We review all police-brutality cases and police-misconduct cases," he noted. "That's a huge amount of our work. That's our bread and butter. That stuff comes in every day. We do a lot of police prosecutions."
Besides the nine prosecutors already assigned to public corruption, Rundle promised that additional attorneys will continue to be brought in to handle the more difficult and time-consuming cases. The investigation into the paving contract, for example, has been assigned to Trudy Novicki, chief assistant for special prosecutions, and Fred Kerstein, who is head of the office's white-collar crime section. And as the Miami vote-fraud cases -- now involving more than a dozen defendants -- move through the courts, attorneys from other units will be assigned to work on trial preparation.