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What Viveca Novak Told
Fitzgerald
Time
By VIVECA NOVAK
December 11, 2005
It was in the midst of another Washington scandal, almost a decade ago, that
I got to know Bob Luskin. He represented Mark Middleton, a minor figure in the
Democratic campaign-finance scandals of 1996. Luskin kept Middleton out of the
spotlight and never told me much. Still, there is the occasional source with
whom one becomes friendly, and eventually Luskin was in that group.
We'd occasionally meet for a drink--he didn't like having lunch--at Cafe
Deluxe on Wisconsin Avenue, near the National Cathedral and on my route home.
In October 2003, as we each made our way through a glass of wine, he asked me
what I was working on. I told him I was trying to get a handle on the Valerie
Plame leak investigation. "Well," he said, "you're sitting next to Karl Rove's
lawyer." I was genuinely surprised, since Luskin's liberal sympathies were no
secret, and here he was representing the man known to many Democrats as the
other side's Evil Genius. I began spending a little more time than usual with
Luskin as I tried to keep track of the investigation. But how it all bought me
a ticket to testify under oath to special counsel Patrick Fitzgerald still
floors me.
The week of Oct. 24, 2005, was Indictment Week--that Friday, the grand
jury's term would expire, and it was expected that Fitzgerald would finish up
his probe by then so he wouldn't have to start working with a new grand jury.
It seemed clear that Scooter Libby, chief of staff to Vice President Dick
Cheney, was in deep trouble, but Rove's status was uncertain. Sometime during
that week, Luskin, who was talking at length with Fitzgerald, phoned me and
said he had disclosed to Fitzgerald the content of a conversation he and I had
had at Cafe Deluxe more than a year earlier and that Fitzgerald might want to
talk to me.
Luskin clearly thought that was going to help Rove, perhaps by explaining
why Rove hadn't told Fitzgerald or the grand jury of his conversation with my
colleague Matt Cooper about former Ambassador Joe Wilson's wife until well into
the inquiry. I knew what Matt had been through--the unwanted celebrity, the
speculation unrelated to fact, the dissection of his life and career. I didn't
face the prospect of prison, since Luskin clearly wanted me to tell Fitzgerald
about the incident and thus Luskin was not a source I had to protect, but no
journalist wants to be part of the story. I clung to Luskin's word might, but
the next week he told me Fitzgerald did indeed want to talk to me, but
informally, not under oath. I hired a lawyer, Hank Schuelke, but I didn't tell
anyone at TIME. Unrealistically, I hoped this would turn out to be an
insignificant twist in the investigation and also figured that if people at
TIME knew about it, it would be difficult to contain the information, and
reporters would pounce on it--as I would have. Fitzgerald and I met in my
lawyer's office on Nov. 10 for about two hours. Schuelke had told him I would
discuss only my interactions with Luskin that were relevant to the conversation
in question. No fishing expeditions, no questions about my other reporting or
sources in the case. He agreed, telling my lawyer that he wanted to "remove the
chicken bone without disturbing the body."
He asked how often Luskin and I met during the period from fall 2003 to fall
2004 (about five times), when, where and so forth. I had calendar entries that
helped but weren't entirely reliable. Did I take notes at those meetings? No.
Luskin was more likely to speak freely if he didn't see me committing his words
to paper. Did Luskin ever talk to me about whether Rove was a source for Matt
on the subject of Wilson's wife?
That was the "chicken bone" Fitzgerald had referred to, the conversation
Luskin had told him about that got me dragged into the probe. Here's what
happened. Toward the end of one of our meetings, I remember Luskin looking at
me and saying something to the effect of "Karl doesn't have a Cooper problem.
He was not a source for Matt." I responded instinctively, thinking he was
trying to spin me, and said something like, "Are you sure about that? That's
not what I hear around TIME." He looked surprised and very serious. "There's
nothing in the phone logs," he said. In the course of the investigation, the
logs of all Rove's calls around the July 2003 time period--when two stories,
including Matt's, were published mentioning that Plame was Wilson's wife--had
been combed, and Luskin was telling me there were no references to Matt.
(Cooper called via the White House switchboard, which may be why there is no
record.)
I was taken aback that he seemed so surprised. I had been pushing back
against what I thought was his attempt to lead me astray. I hadn't believed
that I was disclosing anything he didn't already know. Maybe this was a feint.
Maybe his client was lying to him. But at any rate, I immediately felt
uncomfortable. I hadn't intended to tip Luskin off to anything. I was supposed
to be the information gatherer. It's true that reporters and sources often
trade information, but that's not what this was about. If I could have a
do-over, I would have kept my mouth shut; since I didn't, I wish I had told my
bureau chief about the exchange. Luskin walked me to my car and said something
like, "Thank you. This is important." Fitzgerald wanted to know when this
conversation occurred. At that point I had found calendar entries showing that
Luskin and I had met in January and in May. Since I couldn't remember exactly
how the conversation had developed, I wasn't sure. I guessed it was more likely
May.
As my meeting with Fitzgerald wrapped up, I asked what would happen next. He
said he would consider whether he needed to interview me again under oath, but
that if he did, he wouldn't require me to appear before the grand jury. I hoped
that would be the end of it. But on Friday, Nov. 18--when I was on deadline,
writing, ironically, about Washington Post reporter Bob Woodward's newly
discovered role in the investigation--my lawyer called and told me Fitzgerald
did indeed want me under oath. I realized that I now needed to share this
information with Jay Carney, our Washington bureau chief. On Sunday, Nov. 20, I
drove over to his house to tell him. He then called Jim Kelly, the managing
editor. Nobody was happy about it, least of all me.
A new meeting with Fitzgerald was arranged for Dec. 8. Leaks about my role
began appearing in the papers, some of them closer to the mark than others.
They all made me feel physically ill. Fitzgerald had asked that I check a
couple of dates in my calendar for meetings with Luskin. One of them, March 1,
2004, checked out. I hadn't found that one in my first search because I had
erroneously entered it as occurring at 5 a.m., not 5 p.m.
When Fitzgerald and I met last Thursday, along with another lawyer from his
team, my attorney, a lawyer from Time Inc. and the court reporter, he was more
focused. The problem with the new March date was that now I was even more
confused--previously I had to try to remember if the key conversation had
occurred in January or May, and I thought it was more likely May. But March was
close enough to May that I really didn't know. "I don't remember" is an answer
that prosecutors are used to hearing, but I was mortified about how little I
could recall of what occurred when.
This meeting lasted about an hour and a half. As before, Fitzgerald was
extremely pleasant, very professional, and he stuck to his pledge not to wander
with his questions. Does what I remembered--or more often, didn't remember--of
my interactions with Luskin matter? Will it make the difference between whether
Rove gets indicted or not? I have no idea. I didn't find out until this fall
that, according to Luskin, my remark led him to do an intensive search for
evidence that Rove and Matt had talked. That's how Luskin says he found the
e-mail Rove wrote to Stephen Hadley at the National Security Council right
after his conversation with Matt, saying that Matt had called about welfare
reform but then switched to the subject of Iraq's alleged attempt to buy
uranium yellowcake in Niger. According to Luskin, he turned the e-mail over to
Fitzgerald when he found it, leading Rove to acknowledge before the grand jury
in October 2004 that he had indeed spoken with Cooper.
One final note: Luskin is unhappy that I decided to write about our
conversation, but I feel that he violated any understanding to keep our talk
confidential by unilaterally going to Fitzgerald and telling him what was said.
And, of course, anyone who testifies under oath for a grand jury (my sworn
statement will be presented to the grand jury by Fitzgerald) is free to discuss
that testimony afterward.
Editor's Note: By mutual agreement, Viveca Novak is currently on a leave of
absence.
From the Dec. 19, 2005 issue of TIME magazine
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