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Karen Heller: Fumo's children a whole second act in themselves

Certainly there are second acts in American life, especially in politics. Anthony Weiner, the tighty-whitie selfie artist and former congressman who launched a thousand pun-filled tabloid headlines, is running for mayor of New York City. Indeed, he's leading in the polls.

Certainly there are second acts in American life, especially in politics.

Anthony Weiner, the tighty-whitie selfie artist and former congressman who launched a thousand pun-filled tabloid headlines, is running for mayor of New York City. Indeed, he's leading in the polls.

Eliot Spitzer, former governor and Client No. 9, who launched an equal number of headlines, is running for New York City comptroller. Imagine the possibility of a Weiner-Spitzer victory.

Which is so not fair.

Because what do we have in Pennsylvania, a place where once upon a time donnybrooks erupted in City Council and congressmen accepted bribes from FBI agents posing as representatives of an Arab sheikh? A gaggle of boring politicians. Some are good and boring, some are bad and boring, but most are mediocre and boring.

Which is how I found myself in Orphans' Court on Tuesday observing yet another legal matter involving former State Sen. Vincent J. Fumo, once-powerful Democratic Party poobah, master of getting stuff done - though stuff was never his term - and current resident of a federal prison in Ashland, Ky.

In 2009, Fumo was convicted on 137 counts of fraud, tax violations, and obstruction of justice in connection with viewing the Senate and two nonprofit organizations as his own all-you-can-spend buffet.

Fumo is so many things, but boring is not one of them. He got stuff done, especially for Philadelphia, which cannot be said of our current delegation.

As so often happens in Fumoworld, friends and family often become adversaries - even plaintiffs. A version of Jarndyce v. Jarndyce, the estate case at the heart of Dickens' Bleak House that bled a trust dry, is taking place on the fourth floor of City Hall.

The Fumo trust, valued at about $2.5 million, was created by the senator for the two of his three children, Allison and Vincent, to whom he was speaking at the time. He was already estranged from daughter Nicole, whose husband, Christian Marrone, was a key prosecution witness at Fumo's federal trial.

Four summers ago, Allison wept copiously at Fumo's conviction and Vincent was his stalwart supporter. Now they are pitted against their father and, indirectly, his fiancee, Carolyn Zinni.

The testimony is heartbreaking, dysfunctional, and quintessentially Fumo.

Allison wept again, this time saying on the stand: "I don't trust my father, unfortunately." She added: "He's a parent. You don't expect a parent to go behind your back continually."

Vincent, who repeatedly drove to visit his father in Ashland, recalled his saying that "he would win at all costs." His father would "hire a bunch of lawyers" and keep the legal matter going, draining the partnership "until there's zero in it and you guys will have nothing."

Vincent, 44, has already received over a half-million dollars, but his sister, 23, won't be eligible for her portion until age 40. Allison is arguing for dissolving the trust and receiving her share - or, barring that, the appointment of a trustee who would safeguard her interests.

Which would be an improvement over the previous financial stewards, all close associates.

Former trustee Samuel Bennett appears to have been spectacularly unqualified for the position - other than being Zinni's brother-in-law.

Bennett never bothered to really examine the trust documents or meet with Allison, a Wharton graduate who surely has a better grasp of the trust and partnership than he does.

As he testified Tuesday, reading glasses hanging from a gold necklace, Bennett set a possible court record for "I don't remembers" and referred to one of Allison's attorneys as "Buddy." I know you will be shocked to learn that Bennett owes his livelihood to the former senator, landing a job as a maintenance worker for the Pennsylvania Turnpike Commission, the Make-a-Wish Foundation of Fumo acolytes.

Bennett, however, did offer this morsel of wisdom: "I don't tend to ask lawyers legal opinions because it tends to cost money."

And how! At one point, I counted 10 lawyers in the small courtroom.

Fumo was unable to speak for himself, given that he is "away," as they say in some neighborhoods. But, fear not, he is scheduled for release next month. We await his second act.