Minister With Portfolio

You have heard and will hear a lot about letters. Letters, letters, letters. In these you will find the saddest part of this case, believe me. Boyd Douglas. I think he is a very sad case. He's been in trouble all his life. The U.S. Government in its majesty did not deign to tell you much about this man's background. I think he's made lying a way of life.

The opening statement of Defense Attorney Ramsey Clark left no doubt as to who would be the central character in the trial of the Harrisburg Seven. Indeed, ever since the Rev. Philip Berrigan and his co-defendants were indicted on conspiracy charges 15 months ago, the man who informed on them has been hidden away in protected seclusion. Thus, when the call came last week for his appearance, a hush fell over the courtroom. Moments later, Boyd Douglas Jr., 31--ex-con, informer and the Government's star witness--walked through a side door and took the stand.

Puffy. To trial goers who expected a flamboyant superspy, Douglas proved to be something of a disappointment. Dressed in a gray business suit, he looked pallid and puffy. He spoke his testimony in a low, dispassionate monotone, using the stilted phraseology of a police blotter. Douglas' flat presentation, though, belied his importance to the case.

Convicted of such offenses as impersonating an Army officer, assaulting an FBI agent and fraud, Douglas has spent most of the past eight years in federal prisons. Following a conviction for passing $19,215 worth of bad checks, he was sent to the Lewisburg, Pa., penitentiary. There, in 1970, he befriended Philip Berrigan, who is serving a sentence for destroying Selective Service records. Douglas was permitted to leave the prison during the day to attend classes at nearby Bucknell University. Soon he began to smuggle letters in and out of prison between Berrigan and Sister Elizabeth McAlister. Douglas subsequently delivered copies of the letters to the FBI, which, citing passages that alluded to the kidnaping of Henry Kissinger and the bombing of Government buildings, supported the conspiracy charges.

In the System. In response to gentle questioning from Prosecutor William Lynch, Douglas told the court of his involvement with Berrigan. "I had become pretty sympathetic to Philip Berrigan's philosophy about the destruction of draft-card records," he said. "At that time, he advised me that he had several projects under study round the country. One involved the destruction of the utility system in Washington, D.C. He advised me he had been in this system--down in the tunnel system itself--with another individual. He said that he had been there posing as an electrical engineer. I told him that I had some experience with explosives while in the Army." "Was that an accurate statement?" asked Lynch. "No," answered Douglas laconically. "I had no experience."

According to Douglas, he became "concerned" about the goals of Berrigan and his friends--some of whom he met at campus meetings--and their talk about blowing up tunnels. "I am a Catholic," he said, "and I was brought up a very strict Catholic--in a relative way." Douglas decided that it was only a matter of time before prison authorities found out that he was serving as a messenger for Berrigan. "I hoped," he said, "that if I had some supplemental evidence that I could produce at the time that it was discovered I was carrying out contraband, the authorities would believe me, and would realize the threat of these people to the United States Government." It was only after one letter was discovered in a routine search of Berrigan's cell, Douglas said, that he gathered up copies of the letters --which he had conveniently duplicated in the Bucknell University library--turned them over to the FBI, and became a double agent.

Douglas continued to be trusted by Berrigan and his associates. In one of Father Phil's letters to Sister Elizabeth he refers to Douglas as "the local minister with portfolio" and describes him as "the best thing hereabouts since polio vaccine. His ministrations have been no less than providential." Douglas came up with lots of seemingly helpful advice. He said that when he told Berrigan that the Washington caper would necessarily entail some violence, the priest agreed. Berrigan also agreed, said Douglas, to using a gun "but suggested the possible use of blanks. I advised him that I was sure I could obtain a gun for him."

In another letter to Sister Elizabeth, Berrigan talked about recruiting some fellow prisoners. "The young guys here more and more sit in on our rap sessions. They are car thieves, bank robbers, old experienced cons for all their young ages. They are creative, personable, funny, violent, racist, but what an injection they'll add to our movement. We hope that before they leave here to have them started on an investigation of life--one which will put their talents at our disposal."

Letter to "Molly." The defense has hinted that it will try to attack Douglas as being an FBI plant from the very beginning. Last week it received a helpful bit of evidence, in the form of a letter from Douglas to "Molly," the code name of his FBI contact. Dated Oct. 3, 1970, the letter reads in part: "Thank the bureau for the reward and thank you. This will be used for a new car soon. Considering what I will go through before and after the trial or trials, I request a minimum reward of $50,000, tax free. Five thousand to be paid the first week in December 1970, and the rest at the start of the trial or when things are blown wide open."

Douglas did indeed buy a new car* --a $4,000 Javelin with racing stripes --two months later. According to his Bucknell acquaintances, Convict Douglas was a high liver. He dated frequently, drank expensive Scotch, smoked imported cigarettes and sported around in a flashy mod wardrobe.

When it gets a chance to cross-examine Douglas, the defense will make the most of such reports. To offset the damaging evidence in the letters the strategy will be to discredit Douglas, the self-confessed liar. That may not be too difficult. Even Boyd's father once said of his son: "He has told so many lies, practically all his life, that I can't believe anything he says."

* Douglas contends that his funds were part of a $10,700 settlement he received in 1968 in a damage suit over complications he suffered after acting as a volunteer for a prison medical experiment.

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