Call Girl Confidential (20 page)

“Our small family cannot afford the huge bail amount set for her—two million dollars! We are hoping that you will donate to help us pay for her bail, so she can live at home before the trial. We need our mom here.

“Anna Gristina-Gorr has not been convicted of anything. She awaits trial on Rikers Island, with an unjust bail, set higher than the charge against her warrants. The bail, set at a $2 million bond or $1 million in cash, is cruel and unusual. Real criminals, such as alleged rapists, murderers, and child molesters, have been required to pay less bail than she.

“Even more horrific are the conditions of the facility she is being held in. As if this wife and mother was a war-criminal, Anna is kept in solitary confinement, in a room where the temperatures exceed 100 degrees. Rats and roaches scurry all around her. The authorities humiliated her further by attempting to make her wear only a T-shirt and diaper. So much pain is being inflicted on a woman who has not been convicted, who according to America's own justice system deserves to be treated innocent unless proven guilty.

“Please help us fight this injustice; this insult to the American way of life. You can help by making a donation on this web site and by writing to your congress representative to protest. Any help is much appreciated!”

The “solitary confinement” cell that Anna was actually in was 180 feet long—bigger than most New York City apartments. A
Department of Corrections spokesman told radio reporter John Montone of 1010 WINS, “All of the allegations that are being made are untrue. This is not solitary confinement. It is not punishment. It is protective custody.” The spokesman didn't say anything about the diaper.

Twelve days later, Anna was moving lawyers around like chess pieces yet again. On May 9 she fired “superlawyer” Gary Greenwald because he wanted her to take a plea deal. Some people speculated that she was afraid of getting deported back to Scotland. But Greenwald had also convinced the New York State Appellate Division to hear an appeal of Anna's bail on an expedited basis—a major legal victory. But Greenwald wouldn't be at the June 12 hearing to savor the fruits of his labor. Anna had replaced him with ponytailed civil rights and criminal defense lawyer Norman Pattis, who was perfectly respected—in Connecticut, where he was licensed to practice. Pattis was licensed to litigate in federal cases in New York, but not state cases. So Anna simply rehired Peter Gleason, who was licensed but had no felony litigation experience, and then she made the most bizarre personnel decision yet. She wanted Daniel Geller, son of the famous spoon-bending mentalist Uri Geller, on her legal team. Daniel was a lawyer, all right—in England. Perhaps she thought Daniel could bend the minds of the jurors.

Pattis represented her in front of the five Appellate Division judges, and their unanimous decision to slash Anna's $2 million bond to an eighth of that at $250,000 was his victory to relish. The panel gave Judge Merchan a little slap with a ruler, saying, “The amount of bail set by the trial court was unreasonable and an abuse of discretion.” Their one caveat? Anna would have to wear an electronic ankle bracelet around the farm.

Pattis then scooted back downtown to the criminal courthouse at 100 Centre Street to file a motion to get the whole case dismissed, claiming Charlie Linehan and the whole Manhattan District Attorney's Office was essentially trying to extort the big client names out of her.

On June 26, headhunter turned philanthropist Bonnie Lunt, who I'm pretty sure is friends with Anna's sister, Elizabeth, secured Anna's $250,000 bond. Ira Judelson didn't even need Peter Gleason's pad as collateral. Anna got out of jail on Rikers Island and went home to Monroe. She was free for now, albeit with an electronic bracelet on her ankle, and still facing a possible seven years in jail.

I wasn't proud of being part of where Anna was in her life right now. I also knew that each of us makes a choice, and she got herself where she was. I feel I was put in a position where I had to be a part of things that led to Anna's fall, but I was mad at her for the lies she told about her children. She went on national television and swore on her children's lives that she was innocent, and that was the one thing that I could not forgive her for. I knew the real Anna was in full play, and it was then that I stopped feeling sorry for her. She said on that first recording that if she was caught she would take responsibility, but it was all a lie.

It was all up to the Manhattan District Attorney's Office now. I thought my work was done and that I would get my life back. But then two things happened that shattered my sense of security. One, I started to receive strange phone calls from a man saying that Anna wanted to talk to me. I had pleaded with the DA's office on numerous occasions that I was worried they had put me in danger. A couple of times they acknowledged the level of danger and went so far as to start the process of relocation, but then
it would just stop all of a sudden. When I begged and pleaded, I would get an answer that “everything would be okay” or “just because she had been violent in the past didn't mean she would be in the future.” They never helped me. Nothing had come out of it, but I felt like a sitting duck in hunting season.

And then, once I was sure that my time as an informant was over, the Manhattan District Attorney's Office wanted me to go undercover one more time.

C
harlie Linehan called me and asked me to come down to Corruption headquarters. The Manhattan District Attorney's Office wanted to go after Anna Gristina's client, the global financier who had asked me to procure a young boy for him. Linehan wanted me to go undercover for him. Alone in my room, I sank to my knees, and wailed “No!”

The very idea of seeing him ever again revolted me. And I was scared. This guy had a lot to lose. He was high-profile on Wall Street, in Davos, on Paternoster Square. He had an image to protect in Manhattan and the Hamptons. He had a lot to lose.

But that day I had a visit with my beautiful, beautiful
daughter. I looked at her and thought,
What if somebody tried to molest her?
People who do that are the sickest people in the world. I wanted to help stop him.

Linehan wanted to bring this pervert down, and so did I. I called Charlie up.

“I'll do it,” I said, and hung up.

C
harlie had been better to me than his predecessors. But then something happened that changed my feelings about the entire Manhattan DA's Office for good.

I heard a commotion outside my apartment building one day and peeked out. There was a cavalcade of press: big TV cameras, the whole bit, jostling out there, including a crew from Geraldo Rivera's show. In March, it had come out that one of the girls had told investigators in 2007 that Anna had hooked her up with John Edwards. She told them that she and Edwards had had a paid sex romp when he was staying in New York at the Regency during a fund-raising tour for his presidential campaign. As was the usual modus operandi with politicians, one of Edwards's campaign aides knew Anna and hooked him up. The anonymous girl claimed Edwards had indeed been staying at the Regency in New York on the date she said she had sex with him there. He favored the Park Avenue hotel; interestingly, it was at the Regency in 2006 that he had met Rielle Hunter, the woman with whom he had an out-of-wedlock baby as his wife, Elizabeth, struggled with cancer. But his campaign spokeswoman denied the whole story.

It didn't help me one bit because no one knew who this girl was, and somebody falsely leaked to the press that I was the girl who had sex with John Edwards. I suspected it was Kristin Davis,
the Manhattan Madam, my old boss. Kristin loved to go on
Geraldo
and had already done one guest appearance on Anna's case. I was furious that she would send press to my home, where my daughter would be visiting and where my neighbors would ask about the commotion.

And there was just one problem: although I have had my share of top politicians as clients, I did not have sex with John Edwards. As a fellow North Carolinian, I'm deeply ashamed of him. Of course, he didn't admit to fathering a baby while his wife struggled with cancer until 2010. But Anna simply didn't give me the job that day. She had fifty girls working for her. The
New York Times
reported that the DA's investigators had stopped using the girl as a confidential informant because she had developed drug problems. I don't do drugs and I never have.

But there was the fracas, at my front door. I frantically called Charlie.

“Charlie, you have to do something!” I cried.

“Rebecca, there is nothing I can do,” he replied.

“Can't you send the cops to clear them out of here?” I wailed.

“Welcome to America, Rebecca. It's called freedom of the press,” he said. I didn't like his sarcastic tone.

“Charlie, you have to get me out of here. I can't have Isabella see this. Don't you have an apartment somewhere that you've seized or something? If not, you're going to have to put me up in a hotel.”

“Just sit tight, Rebecca. They'll go away.”

I couldn't believe it. After all I'd risked for him, he was leaving me to twist in the wind. What if I needed major help later? The city and state don't have witness protection programs. At least the feds protect their confidential informants. But Charlie
wasn't willing to go that extra mile. I felt betrayed. My trust was gone.

So now Charlie wanted something again. They wanted me to record the bad guy? Well, I was going to record Charlie too. I put a small tape recorder near the opening in the lining of my blazer, just as I had watched the techie do, when I went down to Corruption to talk about confronting Edward.

I went down to the SoHo office at the appointed time, and this conversation occurred:

DA Staffer No. 1:
We'll need to put the device under your blazer. We need something other than what you're wearing; that won't work. Maybe something with a pocket. We'll open up a seam. Maybe bring us a jacket that's wool—not thin, with a lining. Come in tomorrow.

R:
Tomorrow is Election Day. I can't do anything. I work the elections. I'm still a good citizen. You can't have this one. I don't want you to tear up this jacket.

DA Staffer No. 2:
Maybe you can give us something that's not very luxurious.

R:
That's the problem. All my clothes are expensive.

[Pause.]

DA Staffer No. 2:
Well, that's the stuff that lasts, right? The good stuff.

R:
Maybe I can go buy something inexpensive. You know, go into Bloomingdale's and—

DA Staffer No. 1:
Bloomingdale's? Are you kidding me?

R:
—or Ralph Lauren . . .

[Raucous laughter in the room.]

R:
You're not going to ruin my Chanel . . .

[More laughter.]

Techie:
I would also like to put a backup in your pocketbook.

R:
We're not ripping up my pocketbooks again, are we?

Techie:
We'll just add, like, a water bottle that will have a recorder in it.

Investigator:
We have done surveillance on our target and we feel the best thing for you to do is approach him outside his office building as he exits. Security is very tight there. He won't want to make a scene in the lobby. It makes sense to approach him at his office because you could have Googled where he works, whereas if you show up at his house, it would be less plausible that you could have found that.

R:
It's very stalkerish, I think.

DA Staffer No. 1:
If you showed up at his house, he would be, like, “How did you find me here? You must be working with the DA.”

So you approach him as he exits; you've been waiting for him, and we go from there. Hopefully he takes you into a coffee shop or bar or something to talk. We're thinking the best play is you tell him investigators have shown up at your door talking about this kid: “Look, I've been staying under the radar with this and so far nothing has happened. I know you're protected, you have a lawyer. But I don't know what I'm going to do here.” And then kinda panic.

R:
What if he goes past me and blows me off? What's the hook?

DA Staffer No. 2:
I think the hook is “I've got the DA breathing down my neck about this case.”

R:
But why does he care?

DA Staffer No. 1:
Because he was with the kid.

R:
I need to say, “The DA is breathing down my neck about
you
and the kid.”

DA Staffer No. 1:
Say you have so far refused to talk to the DA about him, but now it's getting hot, and you need to strategize with him because you don't know what to do.

R:
Should I say they pushed me and pushed me and pushed me and I need to make a choice: “Do I talk about you or should I not talk about you? So I need to talk to you about it.”

DA Staffer No. 1
[role-playing]: “What am I supposed to do about this?”

R:
“Do I talk about you or not?”

Female DA Staffer:
You want a scenario where he thinks the ADA already knows all about him.

R
[role-playing]: “You know Anna's trial is coming up and I don't know what's going to come out.”

DA Staffer No. 1:
You could even be more explicit and say: “They know about this incident with the kid. And I think I'm going to cop to it, because I'm not going to jail. And they're pushing me very hard for information on you. You don't know anything about me, but I have a lot to lose, and I imagine you do too.”

DA Staffer No. 2:
Start out weak and you could amp it up: “I'm not going to jail!”