Billy Martin: Monica's Minister Of Defense

By MICHAEL WEISSKOPF/WASHINGTON

It was no accident last Thursday that after six hours of testimony, Monica Lewinsky came down from the third floor of the courthouse, exited the elevator and walked right up to Billy Martin. In a legal team known for big egos or big reputations, Martin, 48, is the quietest--and closest--counsel to Monica and her family. He, more than anyone else, has been calling the shots, approving the strategy and holding the family members' nervous hands in the painful public airing of private moments. He is their Minister of Defense.

If Martin is, as Lewinsky's spokeswoman Judy Smith says, "one of those docs who still make house calls," he only gradually gained the trust of his patients in this case. Retained soon after the scandal broke to represent Monica's mother, Marcia Lewis, he quickly devised ways of moving the women around town without notice of the camera crews, using techniques he honed as a 1980s prosecutor in the San Francisco organized-crime strike-force office. There he planned movements of such famous guests of the federal witness-protection program as Aladena ("Jimmy the Weasel") Fratianno.

But Martin, the son of a Pittsburgh steelworker, gained the role of Lewinsky's indispensable man after engineering an even greater escape. In February, when Lewis was forced to testify before the grand jury and left the courthouse in anguish, Martin made a rare public appearance to protest. His confidential negotiations proved even more effective, private lawyers in the case tell TIME. Warning prosecutors that if Lewis were recalled, she would criticize them for cruelty and reignite a public backlash from her first appearance, Martin is said to have suggested a compromise: allow her to testify in a deposition outside the grand jury. Starr's office agreed, and Martin's stock soared for easing a difficult passage.

It was Martin who pushed hardest to sack Monica's acid-tongued malpractice lawyer, William Ginsburg, replacing him with Washington smoothies Plato Cacheris and Jake Stein, who had the trust of Ken Starr. But the family set one prerequisite for the new duo: Martin must sign off on each decision. So when Stein and Cacheris landed a nothing-to-lose offer from prosecutors to meet with Monica, the Lewinskys cleared it with their lesser-known lawyer. When prosecutors offered blanket immunity, Martin was again asked for his blessing. He credits Cacheris and Stein with the breakthrough: "You had to get them to get to the deal."

So with her dreaded day before the grand jury over, Monica, as much by instinct as priority, turned to Martin upon arriving on the first floor of the courthouse. "Where's my mom?" she asked. "She's at home," said the Minister of Defense. "Let's get you home."

--By Michael Weisskopf/Washington