By Scott Wright

Anyone who follows the news knows that Don Siegelman's legal troubles began before the 2006 gubernatorial election. As governor, Siegelman had been among the most powerful man in the state, subjected to the constant tugging of underlings and past supporters requesting political favors and plum appointments.

So at the time they surfaced, the charges against Siegelman seemed at least plausible. Hey, it happens. Good guys turn into bad guys every day of the week.

As the government's case against him progressed, however, the accusations against Siegelman, printed in various statewide newspapers, left me wanting more. The federal government charged that, while serving as governor, Siegelman had appointed HealthSouth's scandal-ridden CEO, Richard Scrushy, to a state oversight board. In exchange, Scrushy allegedly made a donation to a not-for-profit education foundation that supported Seigelman's attempt to pass a statewide education lottery. The feds also charged Siegelman with illegally accepting gifts from lobbyists.

That's it, folks. Those are the only “crimes” United States attorneys could find to try and pin on Siegelman after spending years and many millions of taxpayer dollars looking under every rock from Mobile to Muscle Shoals. And for his involvement in committing those “crimes,” a judge last week sentenced Siegelman, 61, to over 7 years in federal prison.

Before you, too, pass judgment on the man, here are a few little-known facts about the charges against Don Siegelman and how the trial against him came to pass. I've just learned about these revelations; perhaps they're new to you, as well.

According to author Scott Horton, in an article published on the Harper's magazine website on June 24, the prosecution of Don Siegelman “was commenced as the result of a plan hatched between senior figures in the Alabama Republican Party and Karl Rove.” After six year of watching Crooked Karl and his ilk drive this country off a cliff, I immediately realized Horton's hypothesis was plausible. I continued reading and was soon amazed.

Horton's column points out that Rove spent time in decades past honing his skills in political skullduggery right here in Alabama's judicial campaigns. Horton says Rove has “retained tight connections with the Alabama GOP ever since.” Horton also charges that Rove and his buddies in the Alabama GOP “set out to destroy Siegelman's political career and thus smooth the path by which the Republican Party could secure and retain political control of the Alabama statehouse.”

Horton then proceeds to explain, in detail, exactly how Rove accomplished these feats.

Horton declares that Rove's ascension to the halls of power in Washington, D.C. (with the election of George W. Bush) allowed him to ensure the witch hunt against Siegelman would be successful, thanks to “the use of the machinery of the Department of Justice.” Specifically, Horton accuses Rove of using the offices of U.S. attorneys in Birmingham and Montgomery to carry out his political assassination, claiming “Rove was in a position to make this work and he did so.”

On their face, the accusations might sound grandiose, conspiratorial even. But Horton lays out the facts for all to see. I'll present some of them here and you can make up your own mind about Karl Rove, in case his political machinations over the past seven years haven't already convinced you.

Horton points out that Rove's nefarious Alabama-to-Washington network was exposed to the light of day when a Republican lawyer named Dana Jill Simpson, in an apparent moment of remorse over her role in the campaign against Siegelman, filed an affidavit in which she accused Alabama GOP figure William Canary of bragging to a roomful of fellow Republicans about his close ties to “Karl,” and that “his girls” would see to Siegelman.

The girls Canary referred to, according to Simpson's affidavit, were his wife, Leura Canary, and Alice Martin. Mrs. Canary and Mrs. Martin are the George W. Bush-appointed United States attorneys based in, respectively, Montgomery and Birmingham. The case against Siegelman was prosecuted from their offices.

Naturally, Horton wrote, Simpson has been referred to as “crazy” and a “disgruntled contract bidder” by Republicans. But here's something a lot of people in Alabama and across the nation don't know, mainly because -- as Horton pointed -- Alabama newspapers failed to report it: “After her intention to speak became known, Simpson's house was burned to the ground and her car was driven off the road.” “Clearly,” Horton writes, “there are some very powerful people in Alabama who feel threatened.”

Clearly.

Horton points out that Time magazine and the New York Times reported on the illicit reaction to Simpson's affidavit. And he decries newspapers in Birmingham and Mobile for reacting to these life-threatening events “as if these disclosures were very unpleasant news, best swept immediately under the living room carpet.” He took a swipe at the two papers' coverage of the trial, as well, accusing the News of omitting “crucial facts” about the defense case and questioning the Press-Register's journalistic integrity for seemingly being “the prosecutors' mouthpiece of choice.”

Horton detailed several other peculiarities about the Siegelman case that I suspect few, if any, of the people of Alabama have ever heard about before.

First of all, when prosecutors initially brought the case before a judge in the Northern District of Alabama, he flat-out dismissed it. And the judge who now presides over the case, Mark E. Fuller, “has a long record of deep engagement in Alabama Republican politics,” Horton asserts.

And it turns out that Siegelman's acceptance of gifts from a lobbyist is not without precedent. The same lobbyist who testified that he gave “specialty advertising items of some value” to Siegelman also testified that he gave the same types of items to Sen. Jeff Sessions. According to Horton, however, “the federal attorney insisted that this information be suppressed and the judge trying the case concurred.”

Horton also points out that after becoming governor, Bob Riley appointed a man to the same state oversight board -- a man who had made contributions to Riley's campaign before and after he defeated Siegelman. Horton writes that he doesn't suggest anything is wrong with Riley's appointment of a campaign contributor; what's wrong is that Siegelman was hauled off to jail for the exact same act.

“That's corrupt,” Horton writes.

Horton's extensive investigative work appears to have had some effect. He writes that Don Siegelman's (possibly) unwarranted conviction “is now receiving attention across the United States.” He also says “no less than six attorneys general have written to Congressional oversight committees noting the gross irregularities and suspicious circumstances of the prosecution, and have requested that Congress conduct direct inquiries into what transpired in the case.”

In conclusion, Horton writes that he suspects the case against Siegelman will soon be exposed for what he believes it is: “One of the blackest moments in the history of Alabama justice.”

Maybe Don Siegelman is guilty. Goodness knows, he certainly wouldn't be the first politician to take advantage of his office. Won't it be something, though, if in a few years' time we learn that Rove -- the same man who tried to convince voters in South Carolina that John McCain was crazy, swift boated John Kerry, and schemed to fire U.S. attorneys -- oversaw the manufacturing of a political lynching in Alabama? Is it really possible that Siegelman didn't do anything wrong at all, except choose to be a Democrat in a world inhabited by the likes of Republicans like Karl Rove?

The more I learn about Karl Rove, the more I believe it's possible.