I gather that among the gazillion things George W. Bush never learned, the game of chess was one of them. A person can appear really stupid really fast in chess, especially when the only move he weighs is the impending one, and he moves just because he has to move.
This, it is reasonably conjectured, was the game-playing state of panicked desperation in which Mr. Bush dwelled before making his 'No Jailtime for Bonzo' move. The presiding judge had ruled that the perjurious chimp should cool his prehensile toes in the Big House while awaiting the appellate court's move, and Mr. Bush was at least smart enough to foresee that the chimp might ponder that another meeting with the prosecutor would be less disagreeable than a chance encounter with some of his new home's big apes.
Oh dear, what to do. Mr. Bush had to make a move. So he "delved deeply into the evidence" -- now there's an image for you -- "debating Mr. Libby’s guilt or innocence."
And according to Mr. Bush's own press release, he determined he was guilty as hell. This Mr. Bush reaffirmed the next day: "I thought that the jury verdict should stand."
It was all true. Scooter, or Bonzo, or whatever adolescent moniker he cares to go by, had been caught red-handed, lying to and obstructing some rather important people about some rather important people, the latter of whom were now suddenly scared stiff, since Scooter's pious lies could soon convert to a kind of personally liberating glasnost.
So Mr. Bush pre-sprang Scooter, leaving in place only the meaningless punishments of a fine to be paid by wealthy friends and a probation he'll do with glee.
Brilliant. Move made. Problem solved. Game over.
But of course not only is the game scarcely over, it has scarcely just begun.
Other than an outraged public, whom Mr. Bush's would-be Republican successors must somehow placate in the general campaign, merely the first of monumental cracks in the pre-springing decision immediately came to the fore.
"Indeed, Mr. Bush’s decision may have given birth to a new sort of legal document," reports the NYT, quoting criminal law professor Ellen Podgor: "I anticipate that we’re going to get a new motion called 'the Libby motion.' It will basically say, ‘My client should have got what Libby got, and here’s why.'"
And Professor Podgor won't be alone.
"The Libby clemency will be the basis for many legal arguments, said Susan James, an Alabama lawyer representing Don E. Siegelman, the state’s former governor, who is appealing a sentence he received last week of 88 months for obstruction of justice and other offenses.
Ms. James said 'What you’re going to see is people like me quoting President Bush in every pleading that comes across every federal judge’s desk.'"
And the lawyer for a certain Mr. Victor Rita undoubtedly will soon make that argument, because Mr. Rita was, "like Mr. Libby, convicted of perjury, making false statements to federal agents and obstruction of justice ... has performed extensive government service ... served in the armed forces for more than 25 years, receiving 35 commendations, awards and medals ... [and] had no criminal history for purposes of the federal sentencing guidelines."
Yet Mr. Rita got 33 months. Now the legal system will be balled up for another 33 months in just this one case out of thousands, as new questions of fair sentencing and equal treatment under the law are disputed and sorted out.
I'm sure Mr. Bush saw none of this coming. I'm sure he never paused to weigh the logical consequences of his move. But since he sees himself not as a player, but as the king, I'm sure he doesn't care, either. The colossal disorder he leaves in his wake are other people's problems.
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Tremendous thanks to each of the many who financially pitched in this week. You have my profound gratitude. (If you meant to, but just didn't get around to it, see the sidebar.)
-- P.M.
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