Preparing for a Bumpy Ride

If Bette Davis were still with us, she'd have a piece of advice for the American public: "Better buckle up. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

Yes, all hell is about to break loose. As I said in an early column, I've been here before and I can tell you, it ain't gonna be pretty. The process that is about to begin is a bit like the whole body politic getting a colonic. I remember how it left the nation weak and disoriented for a decade or more. I am, of course, speaking of Watergate -- different cast of characters, same crimes.

In the Watergate era we still had people in Congress, from both parties, with the integrity and backbone to pursue the matter on their own. But those folks have been replaced by the political equivalent of street gang members who make their judgments based on whether the other guy is wearing red or blue.

So forget Congress. This time the sword is wielded by an independent prosecutor, Patrick Fitzgerald -- who is, by all reports, a genuine Dudley Dooright:

"Famous among colleagues for remembering minutiae, he keeps extraordinary hours while handling the leak investigation and managing a Chicago office with more than 150 lawyers. Dick Sauber, an attorney for Time magazine reporter Matthew Cooper in the leak case, said Fitzgerald "worked the case down to the small details. He was the one who knew the obscure fact in a document and knew where to find it." (More.)

So the question is not "if" he found anything, but how much he found. Because when you find a fresh sausage there's almost always another one connected to it -- and another, and another. In this case the first sausage in that string is not the Valerie Plame affair, but war -- specially, how the administration justified invading another nation.

The outing of Joe Wilson's wife as a CIA agent was actually one of the final sausages in that string, a desperate attempt by the administration to hide the criminal acts that preceded it -- the lies they concocted to take our nation to war. And that makes Watergate crimes look like jaywalking by comnparison.

So will the great unraveling begin this week? I suspect so. If Rove and/or Libby are indicted, it will become impossible for the administration to deny access to materials exposing the inner workings of this White House. They will try, of course, claiming "executive privilege." But much of it will still eventually come out. (Remember, when Bill Clinton found himself entangled in the gears of justice, even his DNA could not escape the long arm of the law.)

This administration has relied on its ability to hide inconvenient facts, beginning with their refusal for five years to even identify the members of Dick Cheney's Energy Task Force. But shaping US energy policy to benefit old pals in the oil business is politics as usual. Trumping up evidence to justify war is a crime with both national and international ramifications.

First, understand that Dick Cheney was the maestro of that crime. Libby was his Sammy "The Bull" Gravano, the guy who got his hands dirty doing the boss's work. When tough-guy Sammy faced years in prison he rolled over on boss John Gotti. Sammy looked his old boss right in the eye in court as he dropped dime after dime after dime on him. Sammy got out of prison. Gotti died, alone and ranting, in a federal prison hospital.

That's why when Cheney looks at his old pal Scooter these days, he must shudder. Gone are the "atta boy" backslaps between boss and sidekick. Gone are the "nod, nod, wink, winks," between two soul mates who think so much alike they seldom have to explain. Now when Cheney looks at Scooter he sees a guy who knows where all the bodies are buried -- because he helped bury them. When Scooter looks at Cheney he must see a guy who could spend his golden years luxuriating in his Jackson Hole mansion, while he, Scooter, spends his retirement filing appeals from a cell at Camp Beefcake -- where a nickname like "Scooter" would be a real liability.