Sentencing Libby

There seems to be a serious roil in the water in anticipation of Judge Reggie Walton's sentencing of "Scooter" Libby, scheduled for next Tuesday. Of course this may be at least partly attributable to the chum offered up in the way of a multitude of letters by Libby sycophants or potential miscreants and similarly misguided tripe served up by Libby's defense team.

The defense's sentencing memorandum, released this week, was enough to, in the vernacular, gag a maggot (this via Marcy Wheeler at NextHurrah):

I Present to You: Saint LibbyWarning

Do not read this on a queasy or otherwise weak stomach.

Did I say we had reached the PR phase of this defense? Sure looks like it, from the job Comstock Team Libby did on the sentencing memorandum. Here's how it starts.

Distinguished public servant. Generous mentor. Selfless friend. Devoted father. This is the rich portrait of Mr. Libby that emerges from the descriptions of him in the more than 160 heartfelt letters submitted to the Court on his behalf. The letter writers, who range from administrative assistants to admirals, neighborhood friends to former colleagues, Democrats to Republicans, bear witness to Mr. Libby’s character and patriotism. As detailed below, Mr. Libby’s accomplishments in the State Department, the Defense Department, and the Office of the Vice President demonstrate his extraordinary commitment to public service. His dedication to promoting freedom abroad and keeping American citizens safe at home is beyond question. Mr. Libby has also earned a reputation for treating people fairly and kindly and comforting those who are distressed. He has avoided the Washington limelight to focus on nurturing his young children. Even those who disagree vociferously with policies he supported while serving in the government believe his conviction is not characteristic of the life he has led.[my emphasis]

"Beyond question"? Team Libby has taken that little universe of 160 letter-writers (fewer, I might repeat, than supported Abramoff) and used the to claim the man who helped Cheney dismantle our Constitution is a saint.

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The news that the good judge will be releasing those 160 letters is enough to kick up the pulse a little too.

And Wheeler starts off a subsequent post like this:

"Judge Walton is tough as they come, and he has the cojones to send Scooter to get his orange jumpsuit sooner rather than later."

That's far and away the most satisfying line from John Dean's review of the tensions behind Libby defenders' calls for his pardon. But the rest of the column is equally worth reading, because Dean--who knows a lot more about these issues than I--lays out some of the tensions I described in my letter to Reggie. Dean predicts that Judge Walton will send Libby directly to jail, which will in turn intensify the discussions about a pardon. But, Dean reminds us, discussing the pardon of someone who served as your firewall can in turn get you indicted.

After all, the March 1, 1974 indictment of Mitchell, Haldeman, Ehrlichman and Chuck Colson (who pled guilty, rather than risk a trial) charged each of them with a conspiracy to obstruct justice by offering to provide clemency to those involved in the Watergate break-in. In addition, as Nixon's tapes showed, the president discussed pardons on several occasions, and this abuse of power was included in the bill of impeachment against him that was pending when he resigned.

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And here's some serendipity from Jane Hamsher at Firedoglake:

Having watched Judge Walton get seriously angry during sentencing at young African American men he accused of living in self-imposed chains, I have to say I'd be really surprised if he let rich, privileged Scooter Libby completely escape a future in an orange jumpsuit. John Dean sounds about right:

How long a sentence is Judge Walton likely to impose? On May 25, Special Counsel Patrick Fitzgerald filed the Government's Sentencing Memorandum asking Judge Walton to sentence Libby in the range of "30 to 37 months." Criminal defense attorneys with whom I have spoken expect that Judge Walton will choose a sentence of roughly 30 months (two-and-a-half years), and to give Libby at most a couple of days to get his affairs in order before surrendering to the Federal Bureau of Prisons.

No doubt, the Bush White House has been making similar calculations. Thus, they are approaching a moment of truth. There are only three real insiders here: Bush, Cheney and Libby. However, it appears that the outsiders have looked at the situation, and acted to try to improve it. And as long as they are outsiders, they can do so without criminal exposure.

Dean goes on to point out that if Libby were acting simply on his own behalf, a pardon wouldn't be a problem. But since Fitzgerald has already said that a "cloud" still hovers over Shooter, and should he be lobbying for a pardon, it would potentially further a conspiracy to obstruct justice. Not that I imagine anyone involved cares much at this moment in time, but it could have implications on down the line.

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These are both excellent reads, but both ultimately point to the Mother Lode, namely the article by John Dean that is absolutely required reading.

Island Life with Pighead-on-poke

A couple weeks back I was absorbed in listening to "The Lord of the Flies," as read by the author. I remember reading this (with some horror) either voluntarily or as an assignment in jhs or high school. When I recently trolled for audio at the library a while back, it humped my hand.

I strongly encourage you to consider taking a gander at Mr. Golding's book. Even if it is in the "re-gander" category, as with me. He's got something going here on the topic of what happens when the rule of law is suspended or absent. There is definitely a resonance with our current circumstances that can cause a certain tintinnabulation. Possibly to the point of pain, if you do not take precautions.

I was in the homestretch on the audio when this review coincidentally popped up, well-written and entertaining to the point where you may not be able to resist:

For four years, I saw the books everywhere: on desktops, in the cafeteria, on the top shelves of lockers, stuffed into backpacks. They were so prevalent that I came to recognize each title from the briefest glimpse of its cover. I waited through my high school years for one of my English teachers to assign them -- The Catcher in the Rye, Catch-22, To Kill a Mockingbird -- but none ever did, nor did any of my college instructors.

It's not that I regret reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Great Expectations, or The Grapes of Wrath in my advanced English classes. Still, I've long suspected I missed something by not catching up with the assigned reading books that were never assigned to me.

This year I've pledged to catch up, starting with William Golding's classic Lord of the Flies. Of all the required reading books I wasn't assigned, this is the one that interested me the most. Why I never simply grabbed a copy to read on my own, I can't say. Fifteen years after graduation (excuse me while I shudder at this seemingly incomprehensible fact), I've finally decided now is the time.

I'll forego the quasi-pseudo-deep analysis (one bonus of reading the book on my own is: no essay assignments) and instead share the not-even-remotely-earth-shattering news that Lord of the Flies is terrific. I suppose that's a given, in light of its enduring placement on classroom reading lists and the way it has connected with each successive generation of readers since its initial publication in 1954.

What wasn't such a given was how well the book holds up when one isn't forced to read it. Has the book aged badly in the more than half-century since it debuted? Is it a "great book" that's enjoyable to read, or a "medicine book" that the reader must choke down because it's good for her? My answers: no, yes, and no.

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