Death of American Virtue - Ken Gormley [212]
The judge went on: “Let the record reflect that we’re in the courtroom in Pine Bluff and that the windows have been pasted over.”
The purpose of this in-camera gathering, convened far away from the media, was to allow the judge to decide how to handle the upcoming deposition of Bill Clinton. This was the first time in American history that a president would be forced to testify as a defendant in a civil case. The judge stated, as a court reporter typed away, that she wanted to get the ground rules straight, so nobody could cry foul later.
Judge Susan Webber Wright embodied a new age in American law. She was born in 1948 as the country was rebuilding itself after World War II. Now, for the first time in history, women occupied a place of prominence among the bench and bar. Judge Wright typefied this transformation. She was bookish yet attractive. Her brownish hair, pulled back in a pragmatic bunch, was streaked with gray, but she had resisted the urge to dye it, since vanity had no place in a federal courtroom. She wore spectacles from a steady diet of reading law books. Her voice was youthful, with a lively, high pitch that made it animated rather than flat and dull. She pursed her lips as she spoke, occasionally using facial expressions to indicate happiness or severity.
Judge Wright’s first order of business was to chide both sides for constant leaks to the media in open violation of her gag order. The judge noted that Internet gossip columnist Matt Drudge seemed to have a direct pipeline to information from his home office in Southern California. She also noted that this happened to be “where Ms. Jones is and, unfortunately, where Ms. McMillan is.” Presidential Counsel Bob Bennett interjected in a booming voice, “[Paula Jones], undoubtedly, tells her husband. Ms. Carpenter-McMillan picks this stuff up, and then the world knows about it.”
Judge Wright, staring down sternly from the bench, agreed that Carpenter-McMillan seemed to be the culprit and possessed an obvious “political agenda in this case.” The judge did not have concrete evidence to “hold [anyone] in contempt.” But, she warned, “Once I find out who is responsible, there’s a whole lot I can do.”
Judge Wright next announced that she would schedule the president’s deposition for January 17. It would take place at Bob Bennett’s office in Washington, only a block and a half from the White House, making it a convenient location for President Clinton. There was an “added security risk” with any such proceeding involving the leader of the free world. The judge would issue a statement that the deposition would take place “at an undisclosed location” and woe to anyone who leaked this information to the press.
Judge Wright put down her pen. She leaned over the bench, as if she were reading the parties the riot act: “I want you to get the thing settled,” she told the lawyers with evident frustration. “This case needs—it just screams for settlement.”
Bob Bennett stood in front of the court, sturdy and bearlike. He had made a career working eighteen-hour days and handling important cases. He had served as counsel to former Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger after Weinberger had been indicted for lying to Congress in the Iran-Contra affair. Bennett also had handled the “Keating Five” case, in which John McCain and four other U.S. senators were charged with trying to influence federal bank regulators on behalf of prominent campaign contributors. This Washington lawyer thrived on tough situations and high stakes. He now reminded Judge Wright that the previous pair of lawyers—Davis and Cammarata—had essentially settled the case only to have Jones herself scotch the deal. The Dallas lawyers were now doubling their client’s demand to $1.5 million plus adding an $800,000 lien to cover the previous attorneys’ fees—an obscene amount. How was any lawyer supposed to deal with this attempted extortion?
Judge Wright sighed. “I regret, personally,” she said, “that [Ms. Jones] was not willing to accept what was