As a young prosecutor in the 1970s, Jon A. Sale was setting up electricity for his new Washington D.C., digs when the phone operator asked, "Employment?"

"Watergate special prosecutor's office," Sale replied, prompting a breathy "wow" on the other end of the line and reigniting anxiety over whether he was really up to it.

Five men had broken into the Democratic Party's headquarters, the Senate Select Committee had held televised hearings, and then-President Richard Nixon appeared to be at the center of the scandal.

Sale's new employer, Archibald Cox Jr., had given him two weeks to leave his first job at the Southern District of New York and get his affairs in order. Feigning confidence, Sale joined the midlevel prosecutors litigating to get tapes from secret recording devices Nixon had installed in the White House. That meant running grand jury investigations and listening to the tapes — most of which still aren't public, but included some "appalling" racial and anti-Semitic comments, according to Sale.

The government exerted executive privilege, pushing the case up to the court of appeals, which sided with Sale's team. But negotiations turned "threatening," then the window closed for the White House to appeal. Instead of handing over the tapes, the government offered the Stennis Compromise — allowing a senator who was hard of hearing to listen to and summarize them.

After Cox publicly declined, several prosecutors gathered around the TV at Sale's house, convinced something big was about to happen. Partway through an "All in the Family" episode, a news bulletin took over, telling America that the president had fired them all in what would later be dubbed the Saturday Night Massacre.

"We all immediately ran to the office," Sale said. "It was incredible chaos."

Nixon had ordered the FBI to occupy the building, sending the same — now very uncomfortable — agents who'd worked with them on cases. It felt like the end, but Sale didn't care.

"We thought our careers were done. That was it," he said. "We were annihilated. … But so what? We did the right thing."

After public protests and a court order, Nixon reinstated the special prosecutor's office. Although the firing didn't destroy Sale's career, it did pose a dilemma when filling out job applications.

"From time to time, there's the question, 'Have you ever been fired or asked to resign from a job?' " Sale said. " I was always puzzled how to answer that question."

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Prosecuting a Nazi

The job offers, in fact, came pouring in, but the Watergate experience was a "tough act to follow" in Sale's eyes, so he moved to South Florida to unwind, teaching law full time. Before long, the U.S. attorney in Southern District of Florida noticed Sale, and another prosecuting job came knocking.

As first assistant, Sale's tasks were mostly administrative, though he made sure to diversify staff in what was then a white male-dominated office. But Sale wanted to try at least one significant case — and he found one.

Feodor Federenko was a Miami Beach retiree in 1978, but decades earlier during World War II he'd been an officer at Treblinka, a Nazi death camp in Poland.

"You only went to Treblinka to go in the ovens," Sale said. "And in 14 months they killed about 800,000 or 900,000 people. They had it down to a science."

Undetected, Federenko had become a naturalized U.S. citizen, but the jig was up as Sale brought a civil case to remove his citizenship. To do that, Sale had to prove Federenko had obtained his status under false pretenses, by claiming he'd worked at a factory during the war. The problem: Almost every possible witness had been murdered, except for a few dozen who'd escaped to Israel after an uprising.

The memory of preparing witnesses to testify in the Fort Lauderdale trial haunts Sale. One man recounted in a hotel conference room how the Nazis had packed him and his family into a freight train, then removed and separated everyone into two lines.

"His wife was carrying their infant in a little carrier," Sale said. "And one of the guards ripped the carrier away and took a gun and shot the infant."

The man collapsed after telling Sale his story.

After five years of litigation, the case went to the U.S. Supreme Court, where Sale won. Federenko was deported to the Soviet Union, put on trial and executed within six months.

"I'm not saying I believe in that," Sale said. "But the contrast …"

Sale later entered the white-collar criminal defense arena, where the goal was to keep his clients' names "out of the newspaper." But one in particular caught the public's attention when he drunkenly stole a taxi in Fort Lauderdale.

Television mogul Roger King owned the company behind such shows as "Jeopardy," "Dr. Phil" and "The Oprah Winfrey Show." He was also a problem gambler, regularly losing millions at the casino after getting drunk.

"Roger King was addicted to everything," Sale said.

Sale got the case dismissed and ended up developing a friendship with King. And one day, King's business partner convinced a reluctant Sale to tag along on a casino trip to ensure King didn't overindulge.

"My job was to talk to the casino people and say, 'That's it,' " Sale said. " Easier said than done."

It was a weird and wonderful experience for Sale and his wife, criminal defense attorney Jayne Weintraub, who got to travel the states and meet such celebrities as Frank Sinatra, Oprah Winfrey and Mike Tyson.

"It was not my world," Sale said.

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'Obi-Wan Kenobi'

Now co-chairman of Nelson Mullins Broad and Cassel's white-collar and government investigations practice group, Sale is one of only two Florida attorneys labeled an "eminent practitioner" in his field by Chambers U.S.A., which ranks attorneys.

Sale has served on the Judicial Nominating Commission, numerous court committees and two state governor transitional advisory teams, becoming, as Miami attorney David Oscar Markus put it, "the Obi-Wan Kenobi of the criminal defense bar."

His sense of humor is "more British than American," according to Nelson Mullins attorney Mark Raymond, who was taken aback, when he met Sale, by a quip that was so dry he wasn't sure if it was a joke.

Sale, an introvert, recoils when asked about himself. But his office, overlooking Miami's Biscayne Bay, is dotted with framed notes beginning "Dear Jon" and ending with affectionate sign-offs from nationally renowned judges and lawyers.

One of them, U.S. District Judge James Cohn, met Sale 40 years ago and has suffered history trivia defeats to him ever since. Though the two have different political stances, Cohn says Sale's flair for diplomacy means they can agree to disagree.

Jon A. Sale of Nelson Mullins Broad & Cassel. Courtesy photo. Jon A. Sale of Nelson Mullins Broad and Cassel. Courtesy photo.

"If [Sale] weren't a lawyer, I think he would make an outstanding ambassador," Cohn said.

Both CNN and Fox News regularly seek out Sale for legal commentary, prompting constant questions from friends and colleagues about whether he's for or against President Donald Trump.

"I'm really pleased that they ask that question, because it shows that from what I'm saying they're not sure," Sale said. "I've made every effort to make a legal analysis, rather than political."

Sale's friend Robbie Calloway in Washington, D.C., said he appreciates that effort.

"He's not a spokesperson for the president, nor does he hate the president," Calloway said. "He just lays out a good legal case."

Calloway is a founding board member of the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, which Sale and his family have supported for decades. One of Sale's clients, entrepreneur Hank Asher provided services to the center and gave $10 million, becoming its largest-ever private donor.

"If you have the money, writing a check is nice," Sale said. "But hands-on work, under the radar, that's what it's all about."

Jon A. Sale

Born: Brooklyn, New York

Spouse: Jayne Weintraub

Children: David Sale, Scott Sale, Michael Sale, Jordan Sale

Education: New York University School of Law, J.D.; University of Pennsylvania, B.A.

Experience: Co-chairman of white-collar and government investigations practice group, Nelson Mullins Broad and Cassel; First Assistant U.S. Attorney, Southern District of Florida; Assistant U.S. Attorney, Southern District of New York and the District of Connecticut; Assistant Special Prosecutor, Watergate Special Prosecution Force for the U.S. Department of Justice; Adjunct law professor, St. Thomas University Law School; Associate professor of law, Nova Southeastern Shepard Broad Law Center; Law Clerk, U.S. District Judge Morris E. Lasker in the Southern District of New York

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