A VIEW FROM METRO EAST
Has Jerry Costello's friend helped him to death? by Patrick E. Gauen Supporters say Amiel Cueto is the best kind of friend when you're in trouble. Detractors warn he's also the worst kind of trouble when he's your friend. Rule 801(d) (2) (e). It means nothing to you, but it might mean everything to Congressman Jerry F. Costello. He has been seen as a possible Democratic contender for statewide office in 1998 — some say for secretary of state — but there is an awful noise coming from his ambition engine. Open the hood and you'll find 801 (d) (2) (e) stuck in the gears. That is the federal court procedure that permits hearsay testimony about what was said by an "unindicted coconspirator" in a crime. It is the rule under which the judge in a politically red-hot Metro East trial has allowed witnesses to repeat things they said they heard from Costello. Costello is not on trial, at least not officially. And while he seems to be stuck with the label "unindicted co-conspirator," it does not mean there is any claim or evidence that he committed a crime. But the accused is a close friend and onetime business partner, a blustery lawyer from Belleville named Amiel Cueto (pronounced Kwee-toe) who used self-made millions to play back-room political hardball. Supporters say Cueto is the best kind of friend to have when you're in trouble. But detractors warn he is also the worst kind of trouble to have when he's your friend. One fellow close to it all told me years ago that if Cueto really liked you, he could help you to death. Costello's congressional seat seems safe for now, partly because of the Republicans' inability in recent years to mount a credible challenge. But any advancement for Costello will have to surmount this growing bump in his political road, built of innuendoes, whispers and veiled accusations. Costello and Cueto grew up together in East St. Louis in the 1960s, both graduating from Assumption High, a Catholic boy's prep that turned out a remarkable array of pols (including, a few years earlier, U.S. Sen. Richard J. Durbin). Cueto became a cop, then a lawyer who got rich in personal injury. Costello, son of a sheriff, became St. Clair County Board chairman, then congressman. Their friendship might have been no problem except for one Thomas Venezia. He was an East St. Louis area topless club magnate who earned $48 million in six years from illegal gambling. That's the amount the feds cited when they put him away for 15 years for racketeering. Cueto was Venezia's lawyer for a time, and a business partner in taxicab and environmental cleanup businesses. When the federal heat began to wilt Venezia, Cueto came to his aid by publishing a brash tabloid called the ''East Side Review." In its short run it savaged U.S. Attorney W. Charles Grace (nicknaming him "Flounder" for an unflattering character in the "Animal House" movie) and hanging the even- less-endearing label "Miss Piggy" on chief trial lawyer Miriam Miquelon. Miquelon is now prosecuting her tormentor Cueto, on an indictment that claims he illegally tried to derail the FBI investigation of Venezia. Cueto's jury trial before District Judge Stephen (Rush's uncle) Limbaugh in East St. Louis could last through mid-summer. So far, Venezia testified that he, Cueto and Costello were third-each partners in a riverboat casino plan, and that Costello was to use Washington juice to try to aid Cueto with an Indian casino. Neither materialized. St. Clair County State's Attorney Robert Haida testified that Costello promised him a judgeship in 1994 if he would resign and make sure Cueto got his prosecutor's job. Haida declined. Costello, now mum, earlier insisted he met Venezia just once, never had dealings with him, and had no business association with Cueto since they dissolved a partnership five years ago that owned a Granite City liquor store. Even that had intrigue. The partnership broke up after a revelation that one of Cueto's myriad of big-bankroll political committees paid the store $80,000 for "research." That's when Costello began pulling back from his friend. Coming months will tell whether it was far enough, soon enough. Patrick E. Gauen covers Illinois politics for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Illinois Issues June 1997 / 41
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