Death of American Virtue - Ken Gormley [263]
One of the great ironies of this daring deposition was that the information concerning Lewinsky—in all likelihood—never would have been admissible in the Jones proceedings. The existence of this affair was wholly peripheral to Paula Jones’s complaint. Judge Wright, a stickler for procedure, in all probability would have excluded this evidence at trial. Additionally, the Linda Tripp tapes were likely inadmissible, because of serious hearsay objections along with the fact that they had been recorded illegally.
The Dallas lawyers understood that their chances of surmounting these hurdles at trial were slim. But they also knew something that President Clinton and his lawyers didn’t know: Ken Starr—through some divine intervention—had just launched a criminal investigation linked to Clinton’s testimony in this case. Now the lies themselves on the subject of Monica Lewinsky could mortally wound this president.
At the conclusion of the deposition, all parties stared at the black VHS tapes that the videographers had removed from two separate cameras anchored to tripods. These constituted the only visual record of one of the most important pieces of legal testimony in American history. Judge Wright had agreed to take custody of the tapes as a “bailee” for both parties. Sliding them into her briefcase, the judge now shook hands with the president and his lawyers and told Paula Jones and the Dallas attorneys, “You all have a safe flight.” With that, the deposition of the century was concluded.
Bennett and Secret Service agent Larry Cockell escorted the president to his limousine. Overall, the White House team was feeling upbeat. “I don’t think they laid a glove on him” was the team’s assessment of Bill Clinton’s smooth performance. Although Clinton had been thrown off stride here and there, he had bounced back and shifted the burden to the plaintiff’s lawyers to prove their outlandish allegations. There had been those odd questions about Monica Lewinsky. Yet the White House team was satisfied that Lewinsky’s affidavit had mooted that point. By all indications, they were now home free.
Outside, the Skadden building cast a winter shadow in the direction of the White House. On the sidewalk, Paula Jones huddled with her lawyers and burst into tears. She felt that the afternoon’s testimony had been disastrous. Dressed in her new cream suit and sporting a special hairstyle for the occasion, Jones was visibly “distraught.” She told her lawyers, “He’s lying. I can’t believe he’s lying.”
Wes Holmes put one arm around his client. “Well, of course, he’s lying,” he said. “I mean, everybody knew he was going to lie when we asked him some of these questions.” Jones wiped a tear from her face. “I know, I know,” she said. “But it’s just so hard to sit here and listen to that.”
Susan Carpenter-McMillan, who had been locked outside in the cold, hugged Paula Jones for warmth. She told her young client that no matter what happened in the deposition, they needed to put on a happy face for the media. There was a gag order in place, issued by Judge Wright, which meant they couldn’t say a word. But this didn’t mean that the Jones team couldn’t be seen having a rip-roaring celebration after the proceedings were over. It was, as Wes Holmes said, “one of the very few useful bits of advice that she gave.”
So the Jones troupe headed to the Old Ebbitt Grill, one of the most popular restaurants in Washington and one that Carpenter-McMillan had scoped out earlier in the day. It featured a large window facing the street, with a big table visible to passersby. When she had called the restaurant to request that table, the maître d’ had replied, “We’re really sorry, but that’s been booked for six months for a birthday party.” Carpenter-McMillan had expressed dismay, explaining that she was the publicist for Paula Jones and that the deposition was in town today and that they needed a highly visible spot, where they could “be seen.” The maître d’ called back a few minutes later and