Justice The People vs. a Dynasty

By PRISCILLA PAINTON

Armed with a good legal team, a little luck and the deference accorded a dynasty, the Kennedy family has generally finessed its transgressions. The public has never learned the full story of what happened when Mary Jo Kopechne drowned in Ted Kennedy's car at Chappaquiddick, when David Kennedy died of a drug overdose in a Palm Beach hotel, or when Joe Kennedy's jeep overturned on Nantucket and crippled a young girl for life. Last week, as the rape trial of William Kennedy Smith began in West Palm Beach with interviews of prospective jurors, the Kennedy family could count on two of its traditional assets. It has a good legal team (at least $1 million of the Kennedy fortune will be spent on lawyers, investigators, psychologists, pollsters and experts on everything from jury selection to grass stains), and it has the good luck of a semibotched police investigation that did not begin gathering evidence at the Kennedy Palm Beach compound until two weeks after the alleged crime took place.

What the Kennedy family may lack this time is the deference that its name has customarily evoked. It is not just that the Palm Beach gentry always considered the Kennedys arrivistes, even after one of them was elected President of the U.S. And it is not just that the family of the alleged victim -- unlike the Kopechnes, who did not criticize the Kennedys until the 20th anniversary of the drowning -- knows its way around the legal system and has the money to pay for it. The difference is that the prosecutor, Moira Lasch, has a near 100% conviction rate and is as ruthless as any lawyer the Kennedy family ever hired. She watched seven years ago as her boss David Bludworth, the lead investigator of David Kennedy's mysterious drug overdose, was reprimanded by a judge for being "governed by what the Kennedys want you to do."

Lasch and Bludworth seem determined to prove the opposite. With an ice-cold calculation that belies her china-doll looks, Lasch has challenged virtually every request, motion or unanswered question from the Kennedy camp. When she learned that Smith had at one point retained Washington attorney Herbert J. Miller, she demanded that Miller be ousted and waved a book that described his role as Kennedy's counsel in the purported cover-up of the Chappaquiddick affair. "She knows her arguments, your argument and a few arguments nobody mentions," says Bludworth. Most of all, she is not afraid to make a move that skirts the ethical edge: last July, as detectives working for Smith spread negative publicity about the alleged victim, she filed documents saying that three other women -- a doctor, a medical student and the ex-girlfriend of a Kennedy cousin -- were willing to testify that Smith had attacked them sexually. She was roundly criticized for delaying the trial six months and making public allegations that may be barred from court. But she did succeed in making it impossible for Smith to claim on the stand that he has an unblemished record with women without risking the introduction of contrary testimony.

It is Lasch's sense of defiance that has been responsible for her greatest misstep so far: two months ago, she antagonized Judge Mary Lupo by asking that the judge recuse herself because of her "obvious bias" toward the defense, as reflected in her "scowling, glaring and frowning" at Lasch. The motion was denied, and the tension between the two women has not improved.

If Lasch has been aggressive, so has her opponent. The Kennedy family has hired Miami lawyer Roy Black, who is affectionately known as "the Professor" for his gentle demeanor but who has been anything but gentle in his legal assault against the complainant. Backing him up is the more combative Mark Schnapp, who made his mark in the U.S. Attorney's office in Miami by prosecuting drug dealers and money launderers, including helping to draft the indictment against Panamanian leader Manuel Noriega.

, Since the charges of sexual battery were filed against Smith last May, the Kennedys have hired private analysts as far afield as Texas and Michigan to examine hair, blood and particle samples. Duke University's Institute of Policy Sciences and Public Affairs conducted two public opinion polls for Smith to determine if he could get a fair trial in Palm Beach. Three detectives, including Steve Roadruck, nicknamed "Dr. Dirt" for his ability to unearth damaging details, have worked for nearly three months to help discredit both the accuser and her story. The strategy, as laid out in court documents, is to prove that Smith's accuser has a "longstanding psychological disorder" caused by an abusive father, an oppressive stepfather, a childhood sexual assault by a gardener, and a series of abortions, which led her to fabricate her charges.

How much of the woman's history will be heard in the courtroom under Florida's law protecting rape victims is uncertain. As the judge decided last week whether to introduce the victim's untorn blue bra and Victoria's Secret black panties as evidence (yes) and whether to reveal to the jury that she is an unwed mother (no), an estimated 200 journalists converged on the town to cover what is already the most publicized rape trial in history. Anyone looking for a break from the media circus can drive a few minutes to Sprinkles Ice Cream and Sandwich Shop and order a cone. But even that innocent pursuit carries a reminder: the latest flavor is Teddy's Best, vanilla ice cream spiked with the Senator's favorite drink, Chivas Regal.

With reporting by Cathy Booth/West Palm Beach