The affidavits abound with red flags, and federal investigators ultimately found the allegations in them groundless. One alleged payoff meeting, for instance, took place at a restaurant, but the only Dallas restaurant with a similar name had not yet opened for business on the date the affidavit is signed.
As of early last month, Clint Martin, the supposed witness to the payoffs who signed the affidavits, was hiding out in a cheap apartment on Fair Oaks Avenue, north of Park Lane.
Standing with one hand always on his door, ready to close it, Martin would not discuss the affidavits, because he has gone into a "deep hole" to avoid Robert Rose. "Drive-by shootings are easy," Martin says mysteriously. On subsequent days, he would not answer his door.
Reed Prospere, Rose's attorney, offers a simple analysis of Treuter's allegations. If Rose had done any of the things Treuter says--especially soliciting murder and bribing judges--why would only Rose be facing the relatively minor offense of tax evasion?
"I don't think really that there is anybody that has taken the time to ask--who has got an IQ over 12 and who has listened--who still believes any of those rumors are true," Prospere says. "If they were true then it would absolutely defy gravity that nothing more has been done by the government. I mean, you would have to draw the necessary conclusion that they are either A) dishonest, B) incompetent, or, three, their give-a-shit factor is a minus 12."
Rose bursts into expletives when asked about Treuter's allegations. Among them is the claim that Rose took a well-known male criminal judge on gambling junkets to Las Vegas. "I don't even know if [the judge] gambles," Rose fumes. "If I took somebody to Vegas, it's going to be somebody who wears a bra and panties, not a fucking judge, and an ugly one at that."
The government got Rose clean on the tax charges, Prospere says. "He's guilty as hell. Ray Charles could have clearly seen it." But the other allegations--and the rumors that Rose was wearing a wire and informing on others--are just "horseshit," Prospere says.
Preparing to go to prison, Robert Rose is also vowing to get even with his ex-wife, whom he blames for his prosecution. He says he will try again to convince anyone who will listen that she is responsible for his downfall.
"This whole thing is the product of a bad divorce, and Lisa doesn't have the balls to come out and own up to what she did. But she's going to. I mean, [my son's] life is ruined, so what difference does it make if everybody knows that mommy turned on daddy?"
Rose's sentencing is set for September 7 before Judge Barefoot Sanders. Rose says he has seen his pre-sentence report, which recommends how much time he should serve, but he won't say what's in it. Under general federal sentencing guidelines, he is probably looking at two years.
He says he'll serve his time, then, as soon as possible, apply to get his law license back. Under state bar rules, Rose will have to wait five years after finishing his sentence before he may reapply.
Sometime in his mid-50s, Robert Rose plans to be back at the Dallas County Courthouse, once again engaged in the not-so-gentlemanly practice of criminal law.
