“Guilty.”
“As to count three . . . guilty or not guilty?”
“Not guilty.”
“As to count four, perjury . . .”
“Guilty.”
“As to count five, perjury . . .”
“Guilty.”
“Do all of you agree with the verdict?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Libby looked impassive as his wife wept briefly. A man seated next to her put his arm around her. Libby’s sentencing was set for June 5, and the jurors filed out of the courtroom. It was all over in just ten minutes.
N
early three months later, the participants gathered for the last time before Judge Walton. The defense had generated an outpouring of 150 letters on Libby’s behalf, from an array of prominent supporters, especially from the cadre of neoconservative strategists who had made the case for war: Donald Rumsfeld, Paul Wolfowitz, Kenneth Edelman, Richard Perle. Others writing included Henry Kissinger, former World Bank head James Wolfensohn, and two retired generals.
“Truth matters, and truth matters above all else in the judicial system,” Fitzgerald began. “When people walk into a courtroom and raise their hand and take an oath . . . the whole system depends on that. If we lose the truth from our judicial system, then the judicial system is lost.” He continued, “Mr. Libby’s prosecution was based not upon politics but upon his own conduct, as well as upon a principle fundamental to preserving our judicial system’s independence from politics: that any witness, whatever his political affiliation, whatever his views on any policy or national issue, whether he works in the White House or drives a truck to earn a living, must tell the truth when he raises his hand and takes an oath in a judicial proceeding, or gives a statement to federal law enforcement officers. The judicial system has not corruptly mistreated Mr. Libby; Mr. Libby has been found by a jury of his peers to have corrupted the judicial system.”
Wells said he agreed that truth matters. But that Libby’s “good deeds” and “outstanding public service” should spare him a prison sentence. The “social stigma of being so publicly humiliated should factor in, to some extent . . . if you read the public coverage, it makes it seem like Mr. Libby was the poster child for all that has gone wrong with this terrible war. Mr. Libby, in addition to his family, really had two loves in his life: government service and practicing law.” As a result of his conviction, he was losing both.
Now it was Libby’s turn. Having opted not to appear as a witness, this was his chance to make a statement. Remarkably, he said almost nothing. He thanked the judge and the court for the many “courtesies” and the “kindness” he had experienced in the courthouse. “I am, for this, most grateful. But now I realize fully that the court must decide on punishment as prescribed by law. It is respectfully my hope that the court will consider, along with the jury verdict, my whole life.”
Then he sat down. Libby had conspicuously failed to acknowledge guilt or offer any contrition–two key requirements for leniency. He remained stoic to the end.
Judge Walton acknowledged Libby’s contributions, saying he’d played an “essential role” in “keeping this country safe since the events of 9/11.” At the same time, the evidence “overwhelmingly” established his guilt. And though there was no evidence Libby knew Plame’s covert status, he had a “unique and special obligation” to make sure revealing her name would not compromise her or any intelligence operations. “He surely did not make any efforts to find out” about her status at the CIA, Walton noted. He also stressed that “the investigation that was embarked on in this situation was extremely serious” and Libby’s crimes constituted “serious behavior.”
Ultimately Judge Walton concluded that the factors weighing in favor of Libby and those against him pretty much canceled each other out. He sentenced him to thirty months in prison, the low end called for by sentencing guidelines. He also fined him $250,000.
F
rom the moment Walton imposed a prison term, speculation was rife that President Bush would pardon Libby. There was ample precedent: the president’s father had granted full pardons to six members of the Reagan administration convicted in the Iran-Contra affair, including Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger. Still, it could be argued that they were acting in the national interest even if they broke the law; it was hard to say that Libby’s offenses, which served to conceal his role in leaking Plame’s identity, served any public interest.
Nonetheless, the vice president, Republican senators and representatives, and many prominent conservatives called for a pardon for Libby. Cheney was especially insistent. Especially irksome to Fitzgerald was Rudolph Giuliani, now a Republican presidential candidate, who had first hired Fitzgerald to work for him when he was U.S. Attorney in Manhattan. Then, Giuliani had advocated stiff sentences for those convicted of obstruction and perjury. Now he went on CNN to belittle Libby’s conviction. Libby’s sentence “was grossly excessive in a situation in which at the beginning the prosecutor knew who the leak was,” Giuliani told Wolf Blitzer. “What the judge did today argues for a pardon because this is excessive punishment.”
On July 2, a court of appeals ruled that reversing Libby’s conviction on appeal was so unlikely that he should begin serving his prison term immediately. Within hours, President Bush issued a statement:
I respect the jury’s verdict. But I have concluded that the prison sentence given to Mr. Libby is excessive. Therefore, I am commuting the portion of Mr. Libby’s sentence that required him to spend thirty months in prison. . . .
The Constitution gives the president the power of clemency to be used when he deems it to be warranted. It is my judgment that a commutation of the prison term in Mr. Libby’s case is an appropriate exercise of this power.
President Bush gave no explanation for his conclusion that Libby’s sentence was “excessive”; it was, after all, the shortest possible within the sentencing guidelines. Fitzgerald firmly disputed Bush’s characterization, saying, “An experienced federal judge considered extensive argument from the parties and then imposed a sentence consistent with the applicable laws. It is fundamental to the rule of law that all citizens stand before the bar of justice as equals.”
Bush had seemed genuinely angered by the leak of Plame’s identity and called for a thorough investigation, which is what he got. Although he commuted Libby’s prison sentence, he didn’t pardon him. He asked two lawyers to review the entire case and to interview Libby for his side of the story. They reported to the president that they could find no basis for overturning the jury’s verdict. When Bush told Cheney his decision, the vice president was furious. As Bush wrote in his memoir, “He stared at me with an intense look. ‘I can’t believe you’re going to leave a soldier on the battlefield,’ he said. The comment stung. In eight years, I had never seen Dick like this, or even close to this.” It was a rare rebuke to a vice president on whom he had placed so much trust. Still, in the end Bush spared Libby a prison sentence, just as he failed to take any action against Rove or Armitage. The message seemed inescapable that in the Bush White House, loyalty trumped truth.
With the threat of a prison term removed, Libby abandoned his appeal, though not his claim that he was innocent and wrongly convicted.
T
he Wilsons themselves embraced the limelight, and each wrote books on their roles in the affair:
Fair Game
, by Plame, for which she received a reported $2 million advance; and
The Politics of Truth
by Wilson. The couple was featured in
Vanity Fair
, and
Fair Game
was made into a movie starring Naomi Watts and Sean Penn. Plame left the CIA in 2007, and she and Wilson moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico. “We’re hopeful that we can get some respite from these people who subvert the Constitution and spin and lie,” Wilson told the
Times
. Nonetheless, Wilson’s central charge–that the president and vice president ignored his findings in Niger in order to make the case for war–turned out to be little more than speculation, and proved unfounded.
Robert Novak’s book chronicling his fifty years in journalism,
The Prince of Darkness: 50 Years Reporting in Washington
, was published in July 2007. Novak pugnaciously defended his column identifying Plame as well as his subsequent decision to name his sources to the grand jury, while settling a host of old scores from slights real and imagined. Fittingly, Novak was interviewed by Russert on
Meet the Press
.
“What do you think happened, Bob Novak, with Scooter Libby?” Russert asked. “He said that he had heard about Valerie Plame from me, and I said that just wasn’t the case. It never came up in our conversation. In the course of the trial, it became apparent that he had heard about Valerie Plame from the vice president, and then spoke to several government officials and several reporters before he even spoke to me. What happened?”
“I think he got–I think he had to get mixed up. Because he’s not dumb, he’s a lawyer, very smart fellow. I hardly know him myself. . . . He didn’t tell me a thing. He was–he was not a good source, as they say. But I believe–I believe he got mixed up and . . . I don’t believe it was willful lying or perjury. But the jury thought so and convicted him.”
“What has this whole situation meant to you? You have been harshly criticized. Every time you’re on
Meet the Press
, people say, ‘Why would you have a traitor on like Robert Novak, exposing the identity of a CIA agent?’ How do you deal with that?”
“Well, of course, I always say that . . . If anybody had said to me that anybody was in danger, any secret operations were undermined, I would never have used her name . . . it’s been tough. . . . It was not a lot of fun for me, the situation. I certainly don’t want it to be my trademark.”
In July 2008 Novak was driving his Corvette in downtown Washington and hit a homeless man, knocking him onto his windshield and slightly injuring him. A week later Novak was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. He suspended his column but kept writing periodically, describing an outpouring of goodwill that surprised and touched him. He died in August 2009 at age seventy-eight. The
Times
’s obituary devoted the first paragraph to his role in the Plame affair and Libby case.
Star witness Tim Russert continued to host
Meet the Press
and moderated the February 2008 televised presidential primary debate between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, cementing his position as the country’s most visible political journalist and one of its most respected. In June 2008 he was recording voice-overs for
Meet the Press
in NBC’s Washington studios when he suffered a massive heart attack and died. He was fifty-eight.
After leaving the
Times
, Judith Miller became a fellow at the conservative Manhattan Institute, and in 2008 joined Fox News as a commentator and writer for
Fox Forum
, focusing on national security. Despite her testimony in the Libby case, she was warmly embraced by the neoconservative intellectuals who had made the case for war in Iraq and had been close to Libby. In announcing her hiring, a Fox spokesman defended her reporting on Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction: “We’ve all had stories that didn’t come out exactly as we had hoped. . . . She has explained herself and she has nothing to apologize for.” While continuing to sound a hawkish note on defense and terrorism issues, Miller surprised many by revealing that she was supporting Barack Obama for president and has praised his record in blog postings.
Matt Cooper seems largely to have escaped the ire of colleagues that Miller faced. He left
Time
to join
Portfolio
magazine, a Condé Nast business publication that failed in 2009. He subsequently joined the staff of the Financial Crisis Inquiry Commission, and then the staff of
National Journal
. He separated from his wife, Mandy Grunwald, in late 2006, not long after he testified before the grand jury.
F
BI special agent Jack Eckenrode finally got a conviction in a leak case, even if technically it wasn’t for leaking. Still, he felt justice was done. “We had a duty to the country to discover if there was a conspiracy among senior administration officials to discredit Joe Wilson or anyone else who criticized the president’s policies,” Eckenrode said. “This was how it looked to me.” Eckenrode retired from the FBI in March 2006 and subsequently joined State Street Corp., the large Boston-based bank, as its chief security officer.