Criminal defense lawyer Robert Del Greco Jr. scrupulously avoids gloating — even when he and client Jerome Bettis learned last week that Westmoreland County prosecutors wouldn't pursue a sexual assault charge against the Steelers running back. The credit for his client's exoneration, Del Greco says, should go to the police and prosecutors who pursued leads suggesting Bettis might have been the target of a blackmail scheme. "Their decision to investigate their case was huge," he says. Of course, Del Greco, 48, of Whitehall, wasn't taking any chances. He put two of his own investigators on the case. Del Greco is the man many of the rich and famous, as well as those in public service, call when they're in trouble. His clients have included athletes, doctors, local judges, police officers and the daughter of the late country music singer Tammy Wynette. He is the criminal defense lawyer of choice because he believes in being prepared — and, if possible, a couple of steps ahead of the prosecutors he's facing. "I don't think a trial is like a boxing match, where both combatants go in at about the same height and weight, and it's a level playing field," he says. Not that he's bragging. Del Greco was a gifted athlete in high school, but was never the type to spike the ball when he scored a touchdown. He's been at the nexus of some of the most explosive cases in Pittsburgh, cases that mix race, sexuality and fame. He's appeared on CNN and in the pages of The New York Times. But he's not in your face. Del Greco is the criminal defense lawyer who's liked even by police officers. Daniel Cuneen, a Pittsburgh police officer for 27 years who is now retired, says Del Greco stays on the good side of cops by staying true to his word. "You know where Bobby stands right from the beginning," Cuneen says. "He's a defense lawyer, yeah. But he's not going to embarrass you on the witness stand. He's very well-respected by all the city police officers that I know." That rapport allows Del Greco to sometimes size up a prospective case by questioning friends on the police force — with the promise that he won't remind them of their comments in court later, Cuneen says. Del Greco mixes with the upper echelon of Pittsburgh's legal community, as well as with the shoeshine man and those who serve lunch at the food court at Two PPG Place, home of his Downtown office. They have only kind words for Del Greco, who won't disclose his fees but who makes enough money to own a 4,400-square-foot home in Whitehall worth $370,200. "He's 100 percent, 100 percent," says Donald Jefferson, 67, of Stanton Heights, who shines Del Greco's shoes every morning and talks politics with him. Jefferson says Del Greco helped him swear off alcohol. A concerned Del Greco used to watch him from an upper lobby as Jefferson would sneak off to a nearby bar throughout the day, he says. "He just told me that I had to stop," Jefferson recalls. "He said I didn't have to go into any program, that I was strong and could do it on my own." Del Greco keeps a photograph of Jefferson in his office. When he recently returned from a trip to Rome, Del Greco brought his friend a keepsake — a medal of St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes — to hang from a necklace. Jefferson says Del Greco once befriended a homeless man who used to approach people Downtown for handouts. Instead of shunning him, Del Greco took to giving the man $10 to $15 every day. When an assailant stabbed the homeless man to death about three years ago, Del Greco looked up the family to make sure they were giving him a proper burial, Jefferson says. The importance of family Del Greco says he learned the importance of compassion and humility from his father, former Pittsburgh Pirates outfielder Bobby Del Greco, and mother, Catherine. His father made it to the big leagues, but he knew the ways of the streets. The youngest of 10 children of Italian immigrants, the elder Del Greco grew up in a shack in the Hill District with nothing but a coal stove for heat. Baseball was the elder Del Greco's way out, but it didn't generate wealth for his wife and eight children. Major League Baseball salaries back in the 1950s weren't what they are now, the younger Del Greco says. His parents still live in a three-bedroom home in Baldwin Township, the only home they ever bought. Young Bobby went to South Hills Catholic High School. Del Greco recalls that he spent much of his early grade school years shuttling from city to city and spending time in Cuba as his father pursued his baseball career. Despite early athletic prowess, the younger Del Greco says he never dreamed of playing sports professionally. He played point guard on the basketball team at Allegheny College in Meadville, but he listened when a professor took him aside and told him he had the drive and ability to become a lawyer. "It was almost like an epiphany for me," Del Greco recalls. But after graduating from Allegheny in 1976, he failed in his first attempt to get into the Duquesne University Law School. His scores on the Law School Admission Test were too low. He worked on the grounds crew at Three Rivers Stadium during the day and took a course in East Liberty at night to study for the LSAT. He gained admission the next year. Launching his career As a law student, Del Greco worked in District Attorney Bob Colville's office as a research assistant in the narcotics unit and snared a job there as an assistant district attorney after earning his law degree in 1981. Colville, now an Allegheny County Common Pleas judge, says Del Greco distinguished himself quickly. Del Greco volunteered for 18 months to prosecute criminal cases in City Court: assaults, thefts and break-ins. Del Greco reasoned he'd get more experience that way because of the faster pace. He could prosecute as many as 30 cases a day, compared with the two or so he'd get in a week in another assignment. What sets Del Greco apart from other lawyers, Colville says, is his ability to question witnesses while remaining likeable to jurors, judges and even alleged victims. "He has a personality that allows him to ask probing questions in an inoffensive way," Colville says. Del Greco quit his job with the District Attorney's Office in 1984 to join the law firm now known as Dickie, McCamey & Chilcote. He planned on a career as a civil litigator to support his growing family. He met his wife, Rita, while attending Allegheny College. They have four children. Del Greco's path to civil litigation was detoured on his way to pick up his last paycheck as a prosecutor, when he bumped into John "Jack" Doherty. Then considered the dean of the city's criminal defense lawyers, Doherty wanted Del Greco's help on what would become one of the biggest trials to hit Pittsburgh. Four black Duquesne University basketball players had been accused of raping a white woman. The case polarized the city, pitting blacks and supporters of the basketball program against those sympathetic to the accuser. Three of the basketball players, including Greg Harrison, who was Del Greco's client, were acquitted after the defense suggested the woman had falsely accused the players because she was pregnant and needed a cover story. Prosecutors didn't bring the fourth defendant to trial after those acquittals. Doherty says Del Greco picked up the ways of a defense lawyer quickly. "I've always said that a good defense trial lawyer needs a little bit of the street," Doherty says. "I brought him some of the street." Doherty adds that his friend doesn't lack confidence. "When he plays basketball … you need three or four balls because he loves to shoot," Doherty says. Big-name cases Del Greco has been involved in many other high-profile cases in Pittsburgh. He gained national attention after the death of Jonny Gammage, a black businessman who suffocated in 1995 after being subdued by five white suburban police officers during a traffic stop. Three officers faced criminal charges. One was acquitted. The trial of two other officers resulted in mistrials, and Allegheny County Judge David Cashman ruled they should not be retried. While not involved in the case's prosecution or defense, Del Greco provided representation and served as a spokesman for the Gammage family during the lengthy legal proceedings. Del Greco defended Wynette's daughter, Tamala Georgette Smith, who was charged with aggravated assault, resisting arrest, defiant trespass and disorderly conduct resulting from a run-in with an off-duty police officer working as a guard at UPMC Presbyterian. Smith, who was visiting her mother at the hospital, was acquitted. Earlier this month, client Brian Bonifate, of Reserve Township, was acquitted of impersonating a police officer. Three similar charges, in which Bonifate was accused of dressing as a cop and stopping female drivers, were dropped. Allegheny County Common Pleas Judge Joseph Jaffe, now indicted on three federal counts of extortion, originally tapped Del Greco as his defense attorney. Del Greco eventually bowed out because his law firm represents many of the defendants in asbestos cases that had been pending before Jaffe. Despite the success and the whirlwind pace — 50 cell phone messages and just as many e-mails a day — Del Greco's office isn't cluttered with photos of himself basking in victory. In one corner hangs an artist's rendering of his first criminal defense trial. A photo of him walking with Duquesne's Harrison, his first criminal defense client, is nearby. The photos of his family dominate — those of his father in a Pirates uniform, of his mother at his son's confirmation, of his three other children and of his wife. His hobbies are low-key: coaching grade school sports and reading, especially Mark Twain, Charles Dickens and Michael Crichton. Joseph Mistick, the law clerk for Allegheny County Common Pleas Judge John Zottola and a friend of Del Greco's, recalls the time Duquesne's law school brought in renowned defense lawyer Stanley Preiser to give a speech. Preiser, who had earned national attention for representing the governor of West Virginia in an extortion trial, concluded his speech by saying that when he gets to the pearly gates and St. Peter asks him what he did to deserve admittance, he'll answer: "I was a defense lawyer." Del Greco, Mistick recalled, offered a different answer. Later that same evening, during a gathering at the Common Plea restaurant, down the street from the county courthouse, Preiser asked Del Greco what he would tell St. Peter. "I was a father," Del Greco said. "The key to his success is that he's a regular guy," Mistick said. "He's a regular guy who relates to regular people, and that's who you have on juries and on the bench."

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