On Monday morning, the once formidable power broker of Los Angeles County and now-disgraced ex-politician, Mark Ridley-Thomas, will learn whether he will spend the next months or years in federal prison.
The decision will be made at a sentencing hearing by U.S. District Judge Dale S. Fischer, an appointee of George W. Bush who presided over Ridley-Thomas’ criminal trial in March.
Jurors convicted him of seven felonies — bribery, conspiracy, four counts of honest services wire fraud, and one count of honest services mail fraud — in a scheme in which he extracted benefits from USC for himself and his son while on L.A. County’s powerful Board of Supervisors.
The jury acquitted Ridley-Thomas of 12 other charges related to a scholarship and a professorship that his son, Sebastian, received from USC.
Ridley-Thomas, 68, has asked the judge to spare him any prison time and instead sentence him to probation and other alternatives to incarceration. Federal probation called for 18 months in prison. Public corruption prosecutors at the U.S. Attorney’s Office in L.A., meanwhile, have requested a six-year term behind bars.
Ridley-Thomas’ conviction has stained the legacy of a politician whose name has graced a wellness center, a high school health center, a youth facility, and a bridge spanning La Cienega Boulevard.
In advance of his sentencing in the 1st Street U.S. Courthouse, scores of Ridley-Thomas’ friends, allies and family members pleaded for mercy and attested to his character.
Sheila Kuehl, the retired politician, commended Ridley-Thomas as “a good and honorable man” who “lived a model life” before he was convicted of corruption charges.
“I assert that MRT is still among the best our community has ever produced,” wrote Tavis Smiley, the broadcaster and radio host.
Jackie Goldberg, president of the board of Los Angeles Unified School District, wrote on official letterhead that Ridley-Thomas was “a warrior for social justice.” state Sen. Steven Bradford (D-Gardena), also on official letterhead, called his friend “a compassionate servant leader.”
The portrayal sharply departed from that of federal prosecutors who described Ridley-Thomas as the architect of a “shakedown” in which he sought to “enrich his family.”
“He capitalized on the power of his elected office for personal gain. He lied, cheated, and deceived, repeatedly,” prosecutors wrote in their sentencing memo. “He was uniquely positioned to serve his constituents. Instead, he served himself.”
Jurors agreed that Ridley-Thomas acted corruptly when he sent $100,000 from a campaign committee to USC, then directed the dean of the university’s social work school to quickly transfer the funds to a nonprofit run by his son. At the time, the dean of USC’s social work school was pressing Ridley-Thomas for help renewing a coveted county contract. Ridley-Thomas voted on that contract renewal a few months later.
Prosecutors offered evidence that Ridley-Thomas’ dealings with USC were partly motivated by shielding his son and himself from scandal. Sebastian Ridley-Thomas had served in the state Assembly but resigned abruptly in late 2017 while facing a confidential sexual harassment investigation. Prosecutors argued that the benefits from USC were a way to give his son a “landing spot” that preserved the family’s political brand.
At the sentencing hearing, Fischer, the judge, will consider the scores of letters submitted to her, along with briefs by prosecutors and defense attorneys tussling over the potential punishment. The judge will also likely be mindful of the message of the sentencing at a time when public corruption has become endemic.
Prosecutors told the judge in their sentencing papers that the Ridley-Thomas case offered “an opportunity” to fight the “disease” of self-dealing and graft in local government.
“The antidote is a significant sentence to justly punish [Ridley-Thomas] and especially to deter others who seek to perpetuate this culture of corruption that has poisoned our politics for too long,” prosecutors wrote.
Defense attorneys countered that there was no need to put their client in custody, adding, “The shame of his convictions is punishment and provides ample specific deterrence.”
Ridley-Thomas’ co-defendant in the case, former USC social work Dean Marilyn Flynn, was sentenced this summer to three years of probation. Flynn had pleaded guilty to one count of bribery, provided incriminating evidence to federal prosecutors, and expressed regret and contrition.
Ridley-Thomas, in contrast, proceeded to trial on all 19 charges against him. He and his allies have steadfastly asserted his innocence, with supporters accusing prosecutors and the FBI of dishonesty and overreaching; floating anti-Black racism as a motive in the case; and publicly questioning the jury foreperson’s account of how jurors reached a guilty verdict.
Prosecutors have argued for a tough sentence, telling Fischer that Ridley-Thomas has undermined the public’s faith in the justice system.
“Everything about defendant’s post-trial litigation and public narrative continue to minimize his conduct and emphasize themes of victimhood and injustice,” prosecutors wrote to the judge in their sentencing papers. “But defendant is not a victim. He was not targeted by the federal government or USC. He is not a casualty of false testimony. And his trial was not unfair.”
In going after Ridley-Thomas, a team of federal prosecutors headed up by Assistant U.S. Atty. Mack Jenkins relied on reams of evidence from USC and from Ridley-Thomas’ AOL email inbox.
The correspondence between Ridley-Thomas and Flynn showed the duo working to funnel money to Ridley-Thomas’ son’s nonprofit in ways that masked the original source.
Ridley-Thomas, for example, sent a $100,000 donation in May 2018 to USC, with a letter telling Flynn, “these funds can be used at your discretion.” The following day, however, Ridley-Thomas emailed Flynn with bank wiring instructions for how the $100,000 should be spent. “At this point it is necessary to act with dispatch,” he wrote.
When Ridley-Thomas learned from Flynn that the money was en route to his son’s nonprofit, he told her, “I repeat: You’re the best!!!”
Around the time of the funneling of money through USC, Flynn told a colleague that she did a “favor” to secure the renewal of a Telehealth contract — a remote mental health contract that USC had obtained from L.A. County.
The circuitous flow of money from Ridley-Thomas’ ballot committee, to USC, and to his son’s nonprofit was just one piece of a broader corruption scheme alleged by prosecutors. Ridley-Thomas was also accused of using his elected post to secure admission for his son to USC, along with a full scholarship and a professorship — but jurors acquitted him of counts that were directly related to the other benefits his son received.
Shortly after Ridley-Thomas was indicted in 2021, he was suspended from his post on the L.A. City Council, where he represented the 10th District, stretching from Koreatown to South L.A. With his conviction, he permanently lost his seat.
Throughout his criminal case, several longtime donors and allies donated money to two defense funds to subsidize his legal bills. He raised more than $1.5 million from a combination of outside donors and personal loans.