Authors: James B. Stewart
Tags: #History, #United States, #General, #Law, #Ethics & Professional Responsibility
Tangled Webs (32 page)
One thing was clear: as Cathie Martin had already suggested, Libby was deeply enmeshed in the damage control over Wilson’s allegations, which had touched him personally. For someone who said he rarely spoke to the press, he was in nearly constant contact with them over that period, and initiated many of the calls. They’d have to try to interview all of these reporters, which would be no easy task. Libby must have known that leak investigations usually foundered when journalists refused to cooperate, and that his story would be difficult to corroborate–or refute.
O
ver the next month, the agents turned their attention to the question of who knew about Plame’s identity before the Novak column made it public, and how they knew it, focusing on officials at the State Department and CIA who dealt with the White House. The source of the information about Plame remained elusive: Armitage had spoken vaguely about “some report”; Rove couldn’t remember how he’d “heard” it; Libby thought the vice president had learned it from Tenet or “someone at the CIA”; Libby thought he’d first heard it from Russert until his notes indicated the vice president had told him. Who else knew about her, and when?
ver the next month, the agents turned their attention to the question of who knew about Plame’s identity before the Novak column made it public, and how they knew it, focusing on officials at the State Department and CIA who dealt with the White House. The source of the information about Plame remained elusive: Armitage had spoken vaguely about “some report”; Rove couldn’t remember how he’d “heard” it; Libby thought the vice president had learned it from Tenet or “someone at the CIA”; Libby thought he’d first heard it from Russert until his notes indicated the vice president had told him. Who else knew about her, and when?
The agents interviewed Marc Grossman, the under secretary of state for political affairs, on October 17, three days after Libby. As the third-ranking State Department official after Powell and Armitage, Grossman worked closely with both men.
Eckenrode asked Grossman if he had any idea who might have told Novak about Wilson’s wife.
“Actually, I do,” Grossman answered. He told the FBI agents that the night before, or perhaps the same morning, Armitage had come to see him and said there was something he wanted Grossman to know before he spoke to the FBI. He then confessed that the FBI had interviewed him, and he told them, “I told Novak about Joe Wilson’s wife.”
Grossman said he was shocked and disappointed to learn of this breach of confidence.
Armitage had continued, “It’s sort of unbelievable. . . . It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” He said he’d revealed the information just as Novak was leaving, and hadn’t mentioned any names, but still, he’d told Novak that Wilson’s wife worked for the CIA. He said he’d tendered his resignation to Powell.
Eckenrode wondered why Armitage had felt the need to confess to Grossman. His account was consistent with what he told the FBI; was he trying to make sure Grossman’s version was as well?
Grossman recalled that he’d asked Armitage about Wilson’s trip to Africa after meeting with Libby on May 29. Libby wanted to know if the State Department was involved, and Grossman said he’d find out and report back. Armitage hadn’t known anything about it either, but two other State Department officials confirmed that Wilson had gone and said they knew about the trip. “Look,” Grossman had told Armitage. “I happen to know Joe Wilson. Maybe I’ll just call him up. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure,” Armitage had replied.
Grossman and Wilson had both attended the University of California at Santa Barbara, and had attended some alumni events together. When Grossman called, Wilson filled him in on the trip, which Wilson said had been requested by the office of the vice president. Grossman called Libby to report on his conversation with Wilson, and said he’d try to get a fuller report.
Grossman felt the story about why Wilson had been sent still didn’t “add up.” So he asked the State Department’s research department, the Bureau of Intelligence and Research (INR) for a written report. He’d gotten the report on June 11. It had contained this passage:
From what we can find in our records, Joe Wilson played only a walk-on part on the Niger/Iraq uranium story. In a February 19, 2002, meeting, convened by Valerie Wilson, a CIA Weapons of Mass Destruction manager and the wife of Joe Wilson, he previewed his plans and rationale for going to Niger but said he would only go if the [State] Department thought his trip made sense.
In Tab 1, attached to the report, prominently labeled “secret,” were the State Department’s notes of the meeting at the CIA to discuss Wilson’s mission. It read: “Meeting apparently convened by Valerie Wilson, a CIA WMD managerial type and the wife of Amb. Joe Wilson with the idea that the agency and the larger USG could dispatch Joe to Niger to sort out the Niger/Iraq uranium sale question.”
This was how Grossman learned that Wilson’s wife was involved, and he thought it was “not appropriate” that someone’s wife was planning his trip. Armitage had gotten a copy of the report, and it’s obvious that was how he, too, learned about Valerie Wilson. It seemed odd that Armitage hadn’t remembered this.
Grossman had also passed on this information to Libby. They were at meetings together on both June 11 and 12, and at one or both of those they’d discussed Wilson’s trip and the report. “There’s one other thing you should know,” Grossman had told Libby. “Joe Wilson’s wife works for the agency.” Libby had thanked him for the information.
To the FBI agents, this was a startling disclosure: Libby had learned about Wilson’s wife, identified in this context only as Valerie Wilson, from Grossman on June 11 or 12, about the same time his notes indicate the vice president also told him she worked at the CIA. Libby had asked Grossman for more information. Yet Libby had made no mention of any conversation with Grossman. Could he have forgotten both references to Wilson’s wife by the time he spoke to Russert? It hardly seemed credible.
I
n mid-October, Adam Levine, White House deputy press secretary, returned to his small apartment near George Washington University and found Eckenrode’s card slipped under the door. On it was a note saying he wanted to meet Levine at his apartment. Levine didn’t want the FBI in his apartment, which was a mess, but he agreed to join Eckenrode for a beer at Bertucci’s, a nearby bar. Levine had already been into the Washington field office the first week in October, and told two other agents that he didn’t know the identities of Novak’s sources. But since then, Rove had cast suspicion on Levine as Mike Allen’s source for the
Post
column, and at the bar Eckenrode produced an e-mail from Allen to Levine dated September 27 that read “Great to see you.” Allen’s article had run the next day. Was Levine the source for the column?
n mid-October, Adam Levine, White House deputy press secretary, returned to his small apartment near George Washington University and found Eckenrode’s card slipped under the door. On it was a note saying he wanted to meet Levine at his apartment. Levine didn’t want the FBI in his apartment, which was a mess, but he agreed to join Eckenrode for a beer at Bertucci’s, a nearby bar. Levine had already been into the Washington field office the first week in October, and told two other agents that he didn’t know the identities of Novak’s sources. But since then, Rove had cast suspicion on Levine as Mike Allen’s source for the
Post
column, and at the bar Eckenrode produced an e-mail from Allen to Levine dated September 27 that read “Great to see you.” Allen’s article had run the next day. Was Levine the source for the column?
This put Levine in an awkward position, since he had talked to Allen. But he maintained he was not the White House official who had said the Plame leak “was meant purely and simply for revenge.” Such a rash comment, even if he agreed with it, would likely end his White House career. Levine acknowledged talking to Allen, but not that he was his source. He realized he was treading a thin line, and Eckenrode seemed skeptical.
By mid-November, Eckenrode and his team had exhausted their possible sources in the administration, which included a lengthy list of assistants and others at the White House, the CIA, and the State Department. Everyone had cooperated, or had said they would cooperate, except for two former officials: Levine left the White House at the end of 2003 without signing a waiver or agreeing to further interviews. Ari Fleischer, now working in New York, retained a lawyer and flatly refused to be interviewed or to sign a waiver.
Apart from Novak, whose column had prompted the investigation, no reporters or press sources had yet been approached. In a sense they were the elephant in the room, especially Russert. If Russert corroborated Libby’s account of their phone conversation, it would go a long way toward buttressing Libby’s credibility.
On November 14, Eckenrode placed a call to Russert using his cell phone number. He didn’t expect Russert to answer questions, but he figured he had nothing to lose by asking. He and Russert had a mutual friend, a Catholic priest who ran a leadership forum in Washington for high school students. Eckenrode had given the group a tour of the FBI and then had joined them to watch a taping of
Meet the Press
.
Meet the Press
.
Russert was at home and answered his phone.
“Tim, this is Jack Eckenrode. Remember me? We met when I was at
Meet the Press
. I brought a church crew with my son and Father Mike. You were kind enough to talk to us afterward and take a picture.”
Meet the Press
. I brought a church crew with my son and Father Mike. You were kind enough to talk to us afterward and take a picture.”
“Yeah, now I do,” Russert replied.
“I’m working on this CIA leak you may have read about.” Eckenrode got right to the point, anxious to keep Russert on the phone. “Look, this is what Libby told us: that [you] told [him] that Wilson’s wife worked for the CIA and that ‘all the reporters know it.’ Is this plausible?” Eckenrode knew the investigation might turn on Russert’s answer.
Russert paused for a moment, then seemed puzzled. “I don’t recall any conversation along those lines,” he said. He said he clearly remembered Libby’s call to complain about Matthews, and he seemed slightly bemused at the idea that he’d take Matthews to task for something Matthews said on his program. Libby seemed naive about how television journalism worked. But he’d referred Libby to Matthews’s producer and other NBC executives, and didn’t think much more about it. As for Wilson’s wife, he didn’t remember saying anything about her, or that she had even come up in the conversation.
“Would you have remembered something like that?” Eckenrode asked.
“Absolutely. It just didn’t happen,” Russert insisted.
“Is it possible? Do you need some time to think about it?”
“I don’t think so,” Russert said.
“Are you 100 percent certain?” Eckenrode pressed.
“Well, I guess it’s possible . . .” Russert’s voice trailed off.
Eckenrode asked Russert to see if he had any notes from Libby’s call, and Russert said he’d check. Eckenrode said he’d call him back. He wanted to keep the channel open.
Eckenrode was elated. He’d been able to question Russert, who didn’t invoke any issues about confidential sources or refer him to NBC’s lawyers. Russert had not only spoken freely–he’d refuted Libby’s alibi.
Eckenrode immediately briefed the lawyers and his fellow agents. At the very least there was a major conflict between Libby and Russert–and Russert had no apparent reason to lie. Was it possible Libby had fabricated the Russert story–and lied to FBI agents? Until now, Eckenrode suspected that the Justice Department lawyers thought this case would end up where all other leak cases had–nowhere. Suddenly that had changed. “Game on!” exclaimed one of the lawyers when he heard the news.
E
ckenrode called Russert on November 24 to see if he had located any notes and to ask some more questions. This time Russert said he’d been told not to speak further, and all contacts with the FBI would have to go through NBC’s lawyers. Still, Eckenrode knew what Russert had said–and might say again if he could be induced to testify. Eckenrode drafted a report on his earlier call: “Russert does not recall stating to Libby, in this conversation, anything about the wife of former ambassador Joe Wilson. Although he could not completely rule out the possibility that he had such an exchange, Russert was at a loss to remember it.”
ckenrode called Russert on November 24 to see if he had located any notes and to ask some more questions. This time Russert said he’d been told not to speak further, and all contacts with the FBI would have to go through NBC’s lawyers. Still, Eckenrode knew what Russert had said–and might say again if he could be induced to testify. Eckenrode drafted a report on his earlier call: “Russert does not recall stating to Libby, in this conversation, anything about the wife of former ambassador Joe Wilson. Although he could not completely rule out the possibility that he had such an exchange, Russert was at a loss to remember it.”
Eckenrode made no headway with any other reporters. At NBC, Chris Matthews and Andrea Mitchell both declined to be questioned and referred calls to the network’s lawyers. Matt Cooper referred the call to
Time
’s lawyers.
Time
’s lawyers.
Eckenrode and the other agents interviewed Libby again on November 26, right before Thanksgiving. Much had changed in the intervening weeks since their first interview. More documents had been produced, which both Libby and the FBI agents had reviewed. But much more dramatic was the shift in Libby’s status from witness to suspect. Russert had flatly contradicted the centerpiece of Libby’s story. Rove had failed to corroborate it. Grossman made clear that Libby was the driving force behind the White House effort to get to the bottom of Wilson’s trip. Grossman had told Libby about Wilson’s wife even before the vice president. Could Libby have forgotten all that, yet have retained a clear and detailed memory of a conversation with Russert in which he allegedly learned Plame’s identity?
The FBI agents, Libby, and Tate, his lawyer, took the same seats as before. Libby again seemed somewhat uncomfortable, but perhaps that was simply his reserved demeanor. The picture emerging from interviews and his notes was of a meticulous, detail-oriented, lawyerly personality. Eckenrode asked him to tell them again about his conversation with Russert. Libby told the same story, mentioning again that they had gone “off-the-record” for that part of the discussion. Eckenrode pressed him: was he sure it was Russert who told him, and not some other reporter? Libby said he was sure.
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