Prosecutors want jurors to hear about Geno Marconi’s long and colorful — some say “controversial” — history when he goes on trial this fall, even though the former Ports Director has never been convicted of a crime.
Marconi, who ran New Hampshire’s Division of Ports and Harbors for decades, is at the center of a political scandal that has ensnared his wife, Associate Supreme Court Justice Anna Barbara Hantz Marconi. It’s also created headaches for former Gov. Chris Sununu, Attorney General John Formella, and Chief Justice Gordon MacDonald.
On Thursday, Marconi’s attorney, Richard Samdperil, filed a motion in Rockingham Superior Court objecting to the state’s plan to introduce evidence of “prior bad acts” during the November trial.
Prosecutors had notified the defense in a recent letter that they intended to present jurors with a “history lesson” on Marconi’s past conduct. Samdperil said that would be improper and irrelevant.
“In this matter, the State does not offer evidence of criminal convictions, as the defendant has none,” Samdperil wrote. “Rather, the State seeks to introduce other extrinsic acts for some as yet unspecified purpose.”
Under New Hampshire law, so-called “404(b)” evidence cannot be used simply to paint a defendant as a bad character. It can only be admitted if it is directly relevant to the current charges and proven by clear and convincing evidence. Samdperil argued prosecutors have not met that standard.
Marconi’s years as port director were often accompanied by controversy.
In 2006, he faced an internal investigation after complaints that he accepted gifts from ship captains and made racially insensitive jokes. He was never charged, but apologized for slurs reportedly aimed at a Middle Eastern ship captain and others. Among them, calling a ship captain of Middle Eastern descent a “sand n*gger,” a “camel jockey,” and a “towel head.” He was also accused of calling someone else a “New York Jew with the chink wife.”
He later underwent mandatory sensitivity training.
The same probe detailed allegations that Marconi used his state-issued truck for personal errands, stored his private boat at a state dock, and accepted lobsters, pheasants, and other gifts from people who did business with the port. Pease Development Authority officials said at the time that Marconi’s actions did not violate agency rules.
There were also darker moments. A year after the 2006 inquiry, longshoreman Bill Roach — one of the employees who complained about Marconi — reported that shots had been fired at his Rye home. Investigators later found a fake headstone with Roach’s initials at the port and a cage of dead rats outside his house. Despite three separate police investigations, no one was charged. Marconi denied involvement.
Today, Marconi faces felony charges of witness tampering and falsifying evidence, as well as misdemeanor charges for alleged violations of the Driver Privacy Act. Prosecutors say he improperly obtained private driving records for “N.L.” — a reference to Pease Development Authority Vice Chair Neil Levesque — and shared them with Bradley Cook, then chair of the port’s advisory council.
Levesque had butted heads with Marconi for years.
Marconi is also accused of deleting a voicemail that investigators said could have been used as evidence against him. Cook faces his own trial on related charges.
At the time, Levesque was applying for a pier permit, a process that already required vehicle registration records to be submitted to the port. That has fueled debate about whether Marconi’s actions truly broke the law.
The Marconi case has expanded well beyond the Portsmouth waterfront.
Justice Hantz Marconi is on paid leave from her Supreme Court position and is facing a trial of her own, accused of trying to pressure Sununu to intervene in her husband’s case. Sununu told investigators he didn’t believe she did anything wrong, but Attorney General Formella — who initiated the probe — has been named as a potential witness and is seeking to avoid testifying.
With both a former port director and a sitting Supreme Court justice under indictment, the case has drawn in some of New Hampshire’s most prominent political figures and raised questions about conflicts of interest at the highest levels of state government.
