Death of American Virtue - Ken Gormley [271]
The OIC prosecutors shot back, “He’s not involved at this point. It’s not your business.”
When Ginsburg excused himself to use the restroom, he stood at the urinal and was surprised to find Ken Starr standing beside him. The two men exchanged pleasantries. Ginsburg washed his hands, told Starr to have a pleasant day, and returned to the field of battle. The California lawyer recalled with a smile, “Starr has a good work ethic, too. He was there [on Sunday]. The only time I met Ken Starr was in the bathroom.”
The OIC lawyers now slid a draft “proffer” agreement across the table. Prosecutors routinely did this, allowing the defense lawyer to propose changes until they reached a workable deal. Instead, Ginsburg “didn’t even look at [the paper] at all.” He slid it aside, glared at his two opponents, and declared, “My girl isn’t going down for you.” Ginsburg repeated that he would not allow his client “to get involved in something un-American like wiring and taping to catch the president of the United States unless there was a really good reason,” such as if “the president was involved in espionage,” giving away secrets to a foreign enemy.
Jackie Bennett was seething. He would later say of Ginsburg: “He’s viewing this as, ‘Oh, you want $850,000 for this swimming pool settlement? No, no. You’re going to give me $1.2 million.’ He’s viewing it as ‘all is negotiable.’” Bennett leaned close to his bearded opponent and snarled, “Look, you’re blowing this.” Bennett raised his voice louder, almost shouting: “We’ve got you. We’ve got felonies against your client. She has got to cooperate, or else she can be prosecuted for serious offenses.” Ginsburg unloaded his own salvo: “I just don’t see why I should cooperate here, because I’m not that interested in catching the president en dasha belle [undressed with his rear end exposed].”
As this nuttiness was unfolding, one of his prosecutors handed Bennett a fax. His face darkened as he read it. In the wee hours of Sunday morning, at 2:32 A.M., tenacious Internet publisher Matt Drudge had scooped Michael Isikoff. Newsweek had “spiked” the story for the moment, nervous about printing still-unsubstantiated details. Drudge had no such compunction. The banner on his news site read:
NEWSWEEK KILLS STORY ON WHITE HOUSE INTERN
BLOCKBUSTER REPORT: 23-YEAR-OLD, FORMER WHITE HOUSE INTERN, SEX RELATIONS WITH PRESIDENT
**WORLD EXCLUSIVE**
**MUST CREDIT THE DRUDGE REPORT**
As Bennett absorbed the news flash, he concluded, “The cat was out of the bag. And it was going to get farther out of the bag very quickly.” Although Lewinsky’s name still had not been revealed and Drudge apparently did not know that Starr was involved in the case, it was just a matter of time. Bennett turned and whispered to Emmick, “I don’t know how long I can contain this.” Ginsburg cut in: “Contain what? What the hell are you talking about?”
Bennett engaged in a quick aside with Emmick, muttering something about Matt Drudge.
“Who is Matt Drudge?” Ginsburg demanded.
Bennett answered angrily, “He is an Internet gossip columnist, he’s an anti-Washington guy, he’s Walter Winchell on the Internet.” He turned back to Emmick: “We gotta get something done: we’re losing time.” He pounded his fist against the table and glared at Ginsburg. “We’re not going to be able to do it,” he said.
Ginsburg was thoroughly puzzled. He gathered up his papers, even more suspicious of Starr’s team than when he’d arrived.
The OIC prosecutors, for their part, felt as if they were being dragged into a dark, swirling river and that Ginsburg had emerged from the mud like a creature from the deep, pulling them downward into an underwater mad house.
OUTSIDE the OIC offices, an SUV pulled up and Bill Ginsburg climbed in. Monica Lewinsky was driving; her mother was buckled into the backseat. As they sped away, Ginsburg’s mind was turning over a number of