Is the AG’s office a dead end? Although Patrick Lynch may be underestimated, events over the last year show why the post remains a political minefield BY BRIAN C. JONES

PROBABLY NO Rhode Island official should be more thankful to see the end of 2003 than Attorney General Patrick C. Lynch.

The state’s most contentious issues have landed at his feet nonstop since he assumed the office last January, starting with the still-haunting deaths of 100 people in the Station nightclub fire, then the debacle of the state police raid on the Narragansett Indian tribe’s smoke shop in July, the deportation of an illegal immigrant whose testimony helped prosecutors convict a murderer, and now the growing storm over possible corporate influence-peddling at the General Assembly.

Not only has Lynch been second-guessed on every aspect of these controversies — which by their very nature guarantee disappointment and dispute, no matter what the outcome — but the political and media establishments question his very fitness for the job.

Some critics say he’s too politically connected: his brother, Bill Lynch, is the chairman of the state’s dominant Democratic Party; his father, Dennis Lynch, once was Pawtucket’s mayor; and the AG’s last job included lobbying with a law firm populated by Democratic heavyweights. Worse, there are suggestions that Lynch, 38, is too young and inexperienced for the job, too ill at ease in public, too truculent with the press. Says one lawyer of the general line: "Everybody seems to feel the guy is just so much over his head that he doesn’t have any idea of the administration or the PR aspects of his job. You just see him in public and say: ‘Oh, my God, he does seem like the kid who has been called to recite something on stage.’ "

Which is why Patrick Lynch in person turns out to be such a surprise.

Sprawled across a couch in his cavernous office near the ornate Providence County courthouse, the 6’5" former college and professional basketball player is downright affable, with a confident grasp on the mechanics and powers of the attorney general’s office, and he musters an almost heartbreaking idealism in describing the attorney general’s role. "I’ll tell you, I boil everything down to my kids," says Lynch. "To me, when I go home at night, I see my wife; I look in the mirror and I see my kids. Do I know that I made the right decision on a case?"

If he sounds as earnest as a comic book hero, Lynch, in fact, has adopted the words of Spider-Man as his department’s credo: "With great power comes great responsibility." He’s had the motto embossed on a bronze plaque — along with an attribution to the action hero’s creator, Stan Lee. Lynch hopes to lure Lee and a Spider-Man actor to Providence when the plaque is installed at the South Main Street entrance to the AG’s office, perhaps this January.

Lynch loves telling the story of how Spider-Man became a force for good in the department.

He says his now six-year-old son, Graham, is devoted to Spider-Man, wearing the character’s costume for two Halloweens in a row. Last January, when elected officials were being sworn in, Graham and other family members were with the AG. "As I’m walking into the State House," Lynch recalls, "my son grabs my pants, literally — I’m going through the archway, jets are flying overhead, the bands are out there, I’m going to step out, and Chief Judge Frank Williams is going to swear me in. It’s on TV and everything — and my son grabs my coat. And I say, ‘What’s up, Graham?’ And he looks up at me and says, ‘Always remember: with great power comes great responsibility.’ "

Lynch says this is a succinct, precise take on his view of the attorney general’s office, which has enormous leverage to prosecute tough cases, such as the Station fire, and which he says must also take care to make sure that everyone — victims and defendants alike — get fair treatment.

The AG’s obvious delight in this story stems from how it tugs at the heartstrings of the most jaded cynic. It also seems to be his unspoken way of signaling that he has a more confident handle on his job — both the substance and the politics of the office — than most people may recognize. It’s as if Lynch is signaling that, far from being Rhode Island’s political punching bag, by the end of Volume 1, Issue 1 of the Patrick Lynch story, he could emerge respected and popular enough to become the first attorney general in Rhode Island to win higher office since 1854.

ONE FORMER state prosecutor describes the political minefield of being Rhode Island’s attorney general this way: "It’s the most difficult office. It’s like being in divorce court — no matter how things work out, you can’t keep anybody happy. I might put a fork in my eye or get poison ivy, but I cannot fathom running for attorney general."

There’ no better example of why the job so difficult than the Station nightclub disaster on February 20, 2003, which ultimately claimed the lives of 100 patrons and workers, and left more than 200 injured, some with permanent wounds and scars, both physical and psychic.

Some politicians shined in the aftermath, notably Republican Governor Donald L. Carcieri, whose televised daily appearances showed him comforting the victims and marshalling resources to help survivors and accomplish grisly tasks, like quickly identifying the dead. By contrast, Democrat Lynch came off as testy with reporters, maddeningly stingy with details of the investigation, reluctant in the early innings even to confirm that a grand jury was investigating.

The grand jury finally reported December 9, indicting the two brothers who owned the Station, Jeffrey and Michael Derderian, as well as Daniel Biechele, former tour manager for Great White, whose pyrotechnics display started the fire. And Lynch took a heavy pounding from two directions.

Andrew Horwitz, a professor at the law school at Roger Williams University, criticizes Lynch’s handling of the case, saying that his early declarations to conduct a massive investigation "created a public relations mess as well as a public perception mess," by raising expectations about criminal prosecutions, when civil cases were more likely suited to meet victims’ needs. Horwitz says Lynch should have become a public educator about the complexities of the law, informing that however painful the tragedy, criminal charges might not have been appropriate. "He could and should have been saying that tragedies happen, that we live in a world where we expose ourselves to tremendous risk everyday, and sooner or later, we as human beings have to accept that," Horwitz tells the Phoenix.

As to the indictments alleging involuntary manslaughter, Horwitz says the charges will be difficult to prove, because it will be hard to link specific acts of the defendants to the deaths of individual victims. "Based on the evidence I’ve seen — I recognize that may not be the complete view — I don’t believe there is sufficient evidence to convict any of the three of involuntary manslaughter," he says.

Many victims and relatives of the dead, however, wanted to see more indictments, in part because of the presence at the Station of highly flammable soundproofing that had apparently been ignored in local fire inspection reports and which helped to spread the fire. Lynch organized a meeting with relatives and injury victims, and the session erupted with curses and shouts.

One of those who attended was Jessica Garvey, sister of Dina DeMaio. DeMaio, a legal secretary, had worked part-time as a waitress at the Station to earn extra money so she might buy a house for herself and her son Justin, seven. DeMaio perished in the fire.

"Like most of those that attended the meeting, I feel there should have been more indictments," said Garvey in an e-mail to the Phoenix. "I believe the fire inspector, who failed to do his job properly, should also have some sort of charges brought against him," says Garvey, a resident of South Attleboro, Massachusetts, who is a Web designer and peer tutor at New England Institute of Technology.

Lynch will still say little about the substance of the Station case, other than that the probe was careful and exhaustive, and the indictments reflected the evidence gathered, which is always his approach to cases. "I don’t think people, frankly, should be misled, most particularly victims, that this is an easy case. This is a difficult case," he says, adding, "I’m confident in what we have." He calls the circumstances of the fire "a perfect storm," in which "stupidity, greed, gross negligence, and disregard for human life" converged to produce the tragedy.

Even those who disagree with the outcome of the grand jury credit Lynch credit for how he handled the process.

Garvey, who is vice-chair of the Station Fire Memorial Foundation, which is working to turn the West Warwick fire site into a place of remembrance to the victims, generally praises Lynch’s conduct at the meeting. "Mr. Lynch was very professional, and did the best he could under the circumstances," Garvey wrote. "I give him a lot of credit. He knew what was going to happen at this meeting, and instead of having someone else stand in front of the families and survivors, he did it himself."

Roger Williams’ Horwitz, too, expresses some support for Lynch, saying that he did not — as Garvey and others hoped — press for indictments of town or state officials. "The accusations that he has failed to indict public officials for political reasons, or there is a conspiracy to protect public officials, is outrageous and completely unfounded," says Horwitz, adding that Lynch is "operating in good faith, with integrity."

"I like Patrick," Horwitz says. "I voted for him."