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Sen. Mike Duffy took the stand at his criminal trial Tuesday, testifying in his own defence on fraud and bribery charges.
Or, rather, the Old Duff did. On the stand, the former broadcaster and Conservative politician began telling his story under questions from his lawyer Donald Bayne from the very beginning — tracing his family’s roots in Prince Edward Island to “Napoleonic times,” through his schooling, his early career moves in the Maritimes and back and forth to central Canada.
It’s just the start of Duffy’s account of how he came to become a senator, and ultimately to be charged with misusing his access to the Senate’s resources for personal ends and allegedly take a bribe from prime minister Stephen Harper’s chief of staff as part of the effort to cover it up.
But oh, what a beginning. After eight months of total silence as the prosecutors made their case against him, Duffy the renowned raconteur began to hold court in the courtroom.
“Nothing my life, Mr. Bayne, has been simple or straightforward,” he told his lawyer.
He quit school to report for the local paper in Charlottetown, then was reassigned as a “foreign correspondent” in Summerside, which was “39 miles down the road.” That got him a bump in pay because he wasn’t living with his parents any more. He moved back and forth over the years to Amherst, Halifax, Montreal, Ottawa, marrying and having children, losing his marriage to his own overwork, developing health problems because of his growing weight.
At every stage, Duffy remembered to tell the court who hired him, who fired him, how Max Keeping took the young Duffy under his wing twice, how much money he made, the pay cuts he took to get closer to his dream job on Parliament Hill, what kind of car he jumped into to rush off to a different city (a Volkswagen to get to Ottawa from Nova Scotia, a Chevy Vega for his return after a stint in Montreal a few years later).
Not much of it had anything obvious to do with his criminal charges, except to lay down the foundation of a story that he’s a man who loves the news and public affairs, and public service, and family.
“I realized that while it was a spectacle,” Duffy said of covering a political convention as a youth. “it was a spectacle that mattered, because it was a debate and a discussion of ideas, and at the end of the day who won, and whether they were to win an election, would affect every Canadian and how they lived their life.”
But it cost him, too, he said. He returned from the 1979 election campaign to a lawyer’s letter saying his then-wife wanted a divorce. She took the children and moved to British Columbia.
“I had a lost decade, where every time where every time I walked” — his voice hitched — “by a schoolyard, I thought, ‘I wonder what my kids are doing.’ Whenever I had a chance, I went to see them, but no matter how many times you get, it isn’t enough.”
“Are you close with your kids now?” Bayne asked his client.
“I’m close with my son,” Duffy said. “If it weren’t for Facebook … I mean, there is no privacy. If it weren’t for Facebook, I don’t think I’d know much about what Miranda’s doing.”
Among the allegations Duffy faces are that he used Senate resources to visit his daughter Miranda and her family in Vancouver.
His testimony continues Tuesday afternoon.
dreevely@ottawacitizen.com
twitter.com/davidreevely
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Or, rather, the Old Duff did. On the stand, the former broadcaster and Conservative politician began telling his story under questions from his lawyer Donald Bayne from the very beginning — tracing his family’s roots in Prince Edward Island to “Napoleonic times,” through his schooling, his early career moves in the Maritimes and back and forth to central Canada.
It’s just the start of Duffy’s account of how he came to become a senator, and ultimately to be charged with misusing his access to the Senate’s resources for personal ends and allegedly take a bribe from prime minister Stephen Harper’s chief of staff as part of the effort to cover it up.
But oh, what a beginning. After eight months of total silence as the prosecutors made their case against him, Duffy the renowned raconteur began to hold court in the courtroom.
“Nothing my life, Mr. Bayne, has been simple or straightforward,” he told his lawyer.
He quit school to report for the local paper in Charlottetown, then was reassigned as a “foreign correspondent” in Summerside, which was “39 miles down the road.” That got him a bump in pay because he wasn’t living with his parents any more. He moved back and forth over the years to Amherst, Halifax, Montreal, Ottawa, marrying and having children, losing his marriage to his own overwork, developing health problems because of his growing weight.
At every stage, Duffy remembered to tell the court who hired him, who fired him, how Max Keeping took the young Duffy under his wing twice, how much money he made, the pay cuts he took to get closer to his dream job on Parliament Hill, what kind of car he jumped into to rush off to a different city (a Volkswagen to get to Ottawa from Nova Scotia, a Chevy Vega for his return after a stint in Montreal a few years later).
Not much of it had anything obvious to do with his criminal charges, except to lay down the foundation of a story that he’s a man who loves the news and public affairs, and public service, and family.
“I realized that while it was a spectacle,” Duffy said of covering a political convention as a youth. “it was a spectacle that mattered, because it was a debate and a discussion of ideas, and at the end of the day who won, and whether they were to win an election, would affect every Canadian and how they lived their life.”
But it cost him, too, he said. He returned from the 1979 election campaign to a lawyer’s letter saying his then-wife wanted a divorce. She took the children and moved to British Columbia.
“I had a lost decade, where every time where every time I walked” — his voice hitched — “by a schoolyard, I thought, ‘I wonder what my kids are doing.’ Whenever I had a chance, I went to see them, but no matter how many times you get, it isn’t enough.”
“Are you close with your kids now?” Bayne asked his client.
“I’m close with my son,” Duffy said. “If it weren’t for Facebook … I mean, there is no privacy. If it weren’t for Facebook, I don’t think I’d know much about what Miranda’s doing.”
Among the allegations Duffy faces are that he used Senate resources to visit his daughter Miranda and her family in Vancouver.
His testimony continues Tuesday afternoon.
dreevely@ottawacitizen.com
twitter.com/davidreevely
Related
查看原文...
