Very specifically, if a Congressman learned something as a result of his routine Congressional duties there was no prohibition against playing the stock market to profit from this knowledge. As a private citizen, I could go to jail for buying or selling stocks based on information I learned in a board meeting. Like in any number of other matters, the federal laws on insider trading did not apply to members of Congress or the Senate. If Stewart learned something from a banker or lobbyist, it was perfectly legal for him to call up his broker and act on it. Stewart was heavily invested in the banking business.
It might have been legal, but it was definitely tacky, and I enjoyed watching him squirm under repeated questioning from the Baltimore Sun and the local television stations. I didn't enjoy the second half of the 'Billionaire Murderer' label I predicted would be tossed around. There was no way in the world I could label Andy Stewart a killer. He was proudly declaring his push for strong gun control laws, and tying this to me as well. Not only was I a murderer of my baby brother, my ownership and use of a gun validated the need for control of guns.
For starters he dug up all the mud that had been tossed back in 1983, especially the various allegations originally tossed around by the State Police in their pissing match with the Baltimore County Police. Some of those allegations, reported by that jackass WJZ reporter, were that I had used my wealth to buy my way out of jail. (If only! If I could have done that, I would have used it to bury the whole damn mess!) Then he started going after the rest of my family. My father, quite predictably, punched out a reporter outside of the condo in Perry Hall he had bought with his half of the house proceeds. Equally predictably, my mom was waylaid by a camera crew at the door to her apartment, made an incoherent statement, and then ended up hospitalized at Sheppard Pratt for 'exhaustion.'
I heard from John Rottingen early on that reporters from Baltimore were calling. They hadn't shown up on his doorstep yet, but at least one managed to find his unlisted phone number and bug them at home. They were taking it pretty well so far. So far I couldn't see any of the local television stations or the Sun coughing up the cash to send somebody out to Rochester to bug them in person. I asked him to keep me informed, and then let Marilyn know the latest.
Brewster had the media people working overtime on this, because it was pretty much as awful as we had thought it would get. We ended up with a television ad that seemed to go over well.
(Extreme close-up of a giant Bowie knife, slowly pulling back until you saw a hand holding it angrily. Over laid was a slow, deep voice.)
"Carl Buckman's family was being terrorized by a psychotic madman. A stalker came after his wife. Her car was vandalized and firebombed. Their house was firebombed. On September 3rd, 1983, he broke into their home with a fourteen inch long knife and announced his intention to butcher his wife and infant son, and then attacked Carl Buckman. Carl Buckman killed his attacker. His attacker was a known paranoid schizophrenic with a history of violence."
(Pause.)
"He was Carl Buckman's brother."
(Longer pause.)
"Was the last sentence really that important?"
(Different baritone voice.)
"There's a reason for the Second Amendment!"
We did that in print as well as radio, deflecting the murder into a defense of the Constitution. I wasn't so sure how well that was going over. Polling just didn't say.
The strangest part was when Andy Stewart tried to turn my family's abandonment of me when I was young back against me, as if it was my fault. If they had thrown me out and disowned me, then it must have been my fault. I must have been evil to deserve the treatment I received.
By August it was getting totally surreal. The national news had begun following the story of the billionaire running for Congress, and Stewart's narrative of my murder of my brother and my denouncement by my mother, who finally calmed down enough to give a statement damning me. It culminated with a dual interview on Meet the Press. Andy refused to meet with me, since that would be a debate. He went to the NBC studios in Washington, while Brew and I drove down to the WMAR-TV studios on York Road in Towson. I would be broadcast from there.
The regular moderator, Garrick Utley, was out sick and the duties of host were being performed by Tim Russert. I had met Russert before, during an appearance on the show the previous year, and two dinners since then. We were friendly, but I wasn't ready to call him a friend, and I didn't think he was going to be favorable to me.
The interview started out pretty normal. We were introduced with a quick head shot and a hello from each of us, and then Russert turned to the camera and announced that we were the contenders in " ... one of the nastiest campaigns in recent American history. On the one side we have the Republican contender, Carl Buckman, billionaire investor and one of the leaders of the 'Young Republicans' vying for public office. His opponent is eight term Democratic Congressman Andy Stewart, a member of the House Banking Committee, now fighting for his political life."
Tim turned to Andy, and asked, "Is that a fair assessment, Congressman? Is this a fight for your political life?"
Andy snorted derisively. "Hardly! Carl Buckman's candidacy is a symbol of the Republican Party's contempt for the struggles the average American is having in today's difficult economy. They are running a billionaire with a bottomless wallet who plans to buy a Congressional seat. I have called on both the Federal Election Commission and the Department of the Treasury to investigate this flagrant violation of the election laws in the State of Maryland."
"Mister Buckman, are you trying to buy the election? Have you heard from the FEC or Treasury Department yet?", asked Tim, turning to the camera he was using to talk to me.
I smiled and shook my head. "The Federal Election Commission and the Treasury Department? Those are new ones. The Congressman has been complaining about me to the Maryland Board of Elections, the IRS, and the Securities and Exchange Commission, and they've all told him to go jump in a lake. I can't imagine who's next. The real issue is that somebody dared to actually run against the Congressman, and who has a program aimed at solving the very problems he admits his constituents are having a problem with under his representation."
Russert turned back to Stewart. "Congressman, Mister Buckman is not the first wealthy man to run for office, and more than a few of them have been Democrats. Jack Kennedy comes to mind, and it wasn't even his money. It was his father's."
"That may be true, but Jack Kennedy was representing the people. Carl Buckman is only representing himself. He has a history of eliminating his problems, problems like his brother, a problem he eliminated by murder!"
Tim knew of the current allegations being thrown around by my opponent, but hearing me being bluntly called a murderer was still unusual. Most politicians would weasel around it, calling me a killer, or saying 'alleged' or 'presumed.' He had a shocked look on his face as he turned to face me. "Those are astonishing allegations, Mister Buckman. What do you say to them?"
"It's simple, Tim. Congressman Stewart is a liar. There are no allegations of a crime. Does the law allow a sitting Congressman to lie and slander anybody he wants? He is lying to you, just like he has been lying to the voters in the Maryland Ninth. What else has he been lying about?"