Donald Trump might have benefitted from hearing about Dick Foley's experience years ago with federal law enforcement investigators before the former president started calling them names.

Not that it necessarily would have done much good because it's well known that Trump listens to only one person - Trump.

Foley's story goes back three decades.

When he learned he was the target of a federal corruption investigation in 1992, the former Republican State Chairman and state representative called a pre-emptive press conference in Hartford's Legislative Office Building to taunt those who were investigating him.

He belittled the investigators from the U.S. Attorney's office, suggesting they worked for the government because they weren't smart enough for private practice.

"Bring it on," Foley said defiantly. "Put up or shut up."

If the feds thought he was intimidated at the prospect of a federal indictment, he said "they picked on the wrong mick."

Sound familiar? Thirty years later, former President Trump has brashly approached his numerous legal perils in much the same combative fashion, proclaiming his innocence while belittling his accusers.

As Special Counsel Jack Smith investigated Trump's possession of classified federal documents and alleged obstruction and false statements about them, Trump called Smith a "deranged lunatic," and a "psycho."

Those are fightin' words, but federal investigators are human - they have feelings, they have professional pride, reputations and, yes, even egos. Cut 'em and they bleed; piss 'em off and, well, brace for impact.

Smith had Trump arrested last month on 37 federal charges to which the former president pleaded not guilty. The trial is expected to take place into 2024 when Trump should be shifting his presidential campaign into high gear.

Never mind that the trial will be a distraction and will likely cost him votes. If he's convicted on some or all of the charges, Trump could spend the rest of his life in prison. (We'll pause here for the visual).

Smith is also investigating Trump's efforts to overturn the result of his 2020 election loss and his role in the Jan. 6, 2021, riot at the US Capitol. Trump is also under federal investigation for allegedly attempting to overturn 2020 election results in the key battleground state of Georgia.

When columnist E. Jean Carroll sued Trump, alleging he raped her in a department store dressing room 25 years earlier, then defamed her, Trump not only demeaned her, he claimed judges in the case based their decisions on political preference not the rule of law. After the jury found him liable, Trump again ridiculed Carroll, so she sued him again for defamation. He just can't keep himself from poking the proverbial bear.

If only he'd had a chance to hear Dick Foley's lament ... not that he would have learned from it, but most others would.

After Foley ridiculed his investigators before and after his arrest on corruption charges in the early 1990s, he was convicted in 1993 and sentenced to four years in federal prison at Fort Dix, N.J. He served four months of the sentence before being released on an appeal that eventually overturned his conviction.

As The Day's political reporter in the late 1980s, I wrote in support of Foley in his first run to lead the state Republican Party. His blunt, street-fighting style was better suited to what the GOP needed then to win back the governor's office and/or a legislative majority.

In his first attempt to become state GOP chairman in 1987, Foley lost to Robert Poliner, a more polished and reserved Durham lawyer, who served one ineffective term as party chair before Foley unseated him in 1989. Foley invited a few of us back to his hotel room afterward for a celebratory Scotch, and we would remain friends until his death in 2021 at age 71.

After his 1993 conviction, we corresponded periodically while he was in prison. When he was released, we got together for a round of golf and dinner.

Uncharacteristically chastened, Foley said he had learned two hard lessons from his bout with the federal government: that there is "nothing even remotely country club" about federal prison and that, in hindsight, it wasn't a good idea to taunt those who were investigating him.

"The federal government has unlimited resources," Foley said. "They come at you with three or four attorneys, and you've got one. You hire a second attorney, and they come back at you with two or three more, and investigators and clerical people, and they just keep pounding you and pounding you. There's no getting out in front of them. They just overwhelm you."

In some respects, Foley and Trump were both similar and dissimilar. Foley lived comfortably but was by no means wealthy. He was brash, self-assured, and never shied away from a fight. By contrast, Donald Trump is very wealthy, also brash, self-assured, and relishes conflict. Trump's ego, however, would make the pugnacious Foley look like a wallflower.

I don't think the two men knew each other personally, but if I thought Trump could take a lesson from anyone other than himself, he'd do well to learn from Foley's experience. And if Foley was alive today and had the former president's ear, he'd probably tell Trump in his own blunt way what to do going into his federal trials: be contrite, focus on your case, and, most important, keep your mouth shut.