Robert Bidinotto - Hunter

He smiled again, his eyes scanning the faces before him. “Our overriding concern is improving conditions for people who are badly served by the established institutions of society. We must turn away from the excessive use of prisons. Our cherished humanitarian values are being corroded by our excessive focus on vindictiveness. And now we’ll be happy to entertain your questions.”

A forest of hands shot up.

“Yes, you first.”

“Andrea O’Donnell, A.P. Dr. Frankfurt, you make a convincing case about the high cure rates of your therapy programs. But how do you answer those critics who point to horror stories like those in the recent Inquirer series: offenders who participated in your programs, were released early, then committed horrible new crimes?”

MacLean saw Frankfurt’s lips press into a hard line as the psychologist leaned toward the microphone.

“You’re referring to inflammatory lies and misrepresentations spread by a sleazy, tabloid journalist. Well, all he has managed to accomplish is to encourage a wave of vigilante violence. But let me answer your question directly. Of course, no rehabilitation program, no matter how good, can be one hundred percent effective. You’ll always have tragic exceptions. But wise policy-makers have to weigh their many social benefits against some unfortunate individual costs. And here, I think the conclusion is clear: The good of society, as a whole, must take precedence over these isolated exceptions, because-”

“-because individual crime victims are expendable.”

MacLean wheeled around, his eyes searching for whoever had made the loud comment. The reporters swiveled in their seats, looking toward the back of the room.

He stood leaning casually against the wall between two TV cameras, arms folded across his chest.

“Excuse me,” MacLean said. “You know the rules here, sir. And Dr. Frankfurt wasn’t addressing you.”

“Oh, but he was.”

The dark-haired man stepped forward as all the TV cameras swung his way. “I’m the sleazy tabloid journalist to whom he was referring.”

MacLean felt something fall in the pit of his stomach.

Don’t let this spin out of control.

“So, you are Mr. Hunter, then,” he said, noticing that his voice sounded tight.

“That’s right. And since this news conference is supposed to be about setting the record straight about your foundation, I knew that I’d better be here.”

MacLean gripped the podium. “You have your own media platform, sir,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “This is ours. You are permitted here as a member of the press. However, if you won’t follow basic journalistic etiquette, I’ll have you escorted out.”

“And be perfectly within your rights to do so,” Hunter said, smiling. Hands in his trouser pockets, he began to stroll slowly down the outside aisle, moving toward him. “But then, all these fine reporters would have every right to believe that you’re ducking the tough questions. The kind of questions that only I can ask.”

“Get out of here!” Frankfurt yelled, his face red. “You’ve caused enough trouble!”

“Easy, Carl,” MacLean interrupted, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “We have nothing to hide or be ashamed of. Remember: We have the facts on our side.”

“Do you, now?” Hunter said. “I wasn’t taking notes, but I recall a number of-well, let’s call them ‘errors’ in your presentation.”

“Such as?”

“Such as your claims about your success in rehabilitating criminals, Mr. MacLean. Your re-offense statistics-they’re garbage.”

Frankfurt shouted, “Only four percent of the clients participating in our reintegration programs are convicted of a serious new offense. That’s a fact! ”

Hunter stopped about ten feet from where they stood. A slightly crooked smile formed on his lips. “Doctor, please. I read the study where you make that statistical claim. And it’s phony.”

“What do you mean, ‘phony’?” MacLean demanded, hearing the edge in his voice.

“First of all, that four-percent failure rate is based on only one year of tracking your ‘clients,’ after they’re freed-and not three years, as in most recidivism studies.

“Second, you only track new convictions in a court of law. You don’t bother to count the much higher number of new arrests.

“Third, you didn’t mention that most of those caught re-offending aren’t even arrested or sent into a courtroom: They’re just returned behind bars for parole and probation violations.”

“But you-”

“Fourth and finally, you define ‘serious offense’ so that it excludes all new property crimes, gang participation, illegal possession of weapons and drugs, most domestic abuse reports, and a host of other criminal activity that you people call ‘nonviolent.’ So you don’t bother to count any of those, either.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve recalculated the numbers, gentlemen. And here’s the bottom line. If you include everything I just mentioned, the actual re-offense rate from your program graduates isn’t four percent; it’s over seventy percent.”

Frankfurt opened and closed his mouth. MacLean jumped in.

“Mr. Hunter, I don’t know how you do your calculations, but the efficacy of our programs has been independently reviewed by scholars and criminal-justice organizations across the nation. And they emphatically do not support your conclusions.”

“I’m not surprised, Mr. MacLean. Three of the groups conducting those so-called ‘independent’ reviews were funded by your own foundation. And their statistical manipulations are similar to what I’ve just described.”

Hunter turned to face the room. “I encourage you gentlemen and ladies to do your own checking, your own arithmetic. I believe you’re in for a few surprises.”

“Why are you doing this?” Frankfurt yelled. “Why are you targeting programs that help society’s victims?”

Hunter turned back to look at them both. “Victims?” he said, his voice quiet, cold. “Is that how you think of your criminal clientele, Doctor? Well, they certainly have many champions. Your billion-dollar foundation, for one-and many more like it. Also, defense attorneys and bar associations. Plea-bargaining prosecutors and lenient judges. Psychiatrists. Ministers. Politicians. Charities and advocacy groups. And even more: Criminals get all sorts of taxpayer-funded benefits and help, inside of prison and outside. Yet you call them ‘victims.’

“Well, I’ve been spending time with a different group of victims. Crime victims. Victims of the predators that you represent. Victims of the thugs that you recycle back onto the streets. You ask why I’m doing this. Because it’s time that somebody represented them. ”

MacLean saw the reporters scribbling furiously on their notepads; saw the operators shifting their cameras back and forth, from Hunter to them; knew they were transmitting the dramatic images down to the satellite trucks on the street outside, and from there to their stations and networks. He noticed the expressions on the faces of Congressman Horowitz’s two young staffers, and he cringed inside, knowing how their boss would react when he saw this disaster unfold on television.

The whole news conference was slipping away from him. He had to say something, stop the bleeding.

“Mr. Hunter,” he said as calmly as he could, “you seem to believe that we have no concern for crime victims. But we do. In your article yesterday, you attacked H.R. 207, the model legislation that we helped to frame. Are you aware that this bill will add billions of dollars in grants from the federal government to the states, earmarked to aid crime victims?”

He saw a glint in the man’s eye.