You Can Find a Metaphor for Anything in The Godfather

This blog is in danger of becoming the "All U.S. Attorney Scandal All the Time" blog. In his column in today's New York Times, Frank Rich takes it on, as well. Riffing off of the Prez's nickname for his favorite attorney general, Rich titles it "When Will Fredo Get Whacked?" Not much longer, now, I'm sure.

President Bush wants to keep everything that happens in his White House secret, but when it comes to his own emotions, he's as transparent as a teenager on MySpace.

On Monday morning he observed the Iraq war's fourth anniversary with a sullen stay-the-course peroration so perfunctory he seemed to sleepwalk through its smorgasbord of recycled half-truths (Iraqi leaders are "beginning to meet the benchmarks") and boilerplate ("There will be good days, and there will be bad days"). But at a press conference the next day to defend his attorney general, the president was back in the saddle, guns blazing, Mr. Bring 'Em On reborn. He vowed to vanquish his Democratic antagonists much as he once, so very long ago, pledged to make short work of insurgents in Iraq.

The Jekyll-and-Hyde contrast between these two performances couldn't be a more dramatic indicator of Mr. Bush's priorities in his presidency's endgame. His passion for protecting his power and his courtiers far exceeds his passion for protecting the troops he's pouring into Iraq's civil war. But why go to the mat for Alberto Gonzales? Even Bush loyalists have rarely shown respect for this crony whom the president saddled with the nickname Fredo; they revolted when Mr. Bush flirted with appointing him to the Supreme Court and shun him now. The attorney general's alleged infraction - misrepresenting a Justice Department purge of eight United States attorneys, all political appointees, for political reasons - seems an easy-to-settle kerfuffle next to his infamous 2002 memo dismissing the Geneva Conventions' strictures on torture as "quaint" and "obsolete."

That's why the president's wild overreaction is revealing. So far his truculence has been largely attributed to his slavish loyalty to his White House supplicants, his ideological belief in unilateral executive-branch power and, as always, his need to shield the Machiavellian machinations of Karl Rove (who installed a protégé in place of one of the fired attorneys). But the fierceness of Mr. Bush's response - to the ludicrous extreme of forbidding transcripts of Congressional questioning of White House personnel - indicates there is far more fire to go with all the Beltway smoke.

There certainly is more to be found here. If there were an easy explanation for all this, we'd have heard it by now. So what might be the untold story? Rich speculates:

Do not be distracted by the apples and oranges among the fired attorneys. Perhaps a couple of their forced resignations were routine. But in other instances, incriminating evidence coalesces around a familiar administration motive: its desperate desire to cover up the corruption that soiled what was supposed to be this White House's greatest asset, its protection of the nation's security. This was the motive that drove the White House to vilify Joseph Wilson when he challenged fraudulent prewar intelligence about Saddam's W.M.D. The e-mails in the attorney flap released so far suggest that this same motive may have driven the Justice Department to try mounting a similar strike at Patrick Fitzgerald, the United States attorney charged with investigating the Wilson leak.

In March 2005, while preparing for the firings, Mr. Gonzales's now-jettisoned chief of staff, D. Kyle Sampson, produced a chart rating all 93 United States attorneys nationwide. Mr. Fitzgerald, widely admired as one of the nation's best prosecutors (most famously of terrorists), was somehow slapped with the designation "not distinguished." Two others given that same rating were fired. You have to wonder if Mr. Fitzgerald was spared because someone in a high place belatedly calculated the political firestorm that would engulf the White House had this prosecutor been part of a Saturday night massacre in the middle of the Wilson inquiry.

Another canned attorney to track because of her scrutiny of Bush administration national security scandals is Carol Lam. She was fired from her post in San Diego after her successful prosecution of Representative Duke Cunningham, the California Republican who took $2.4 million in bribes from defense contractors. Mr. Rove has publicly suggested that Ms. Lam got the ax because "she would not commit resources to prosecute immigration offenses." That's false. Last August an assistant attorney general praised her for doubling her immigration prosecutions; last week USA Today crunched the statistics and found that she ranked seventh among her 93 peers in successful prosecutions for 2006, with immigration violations accounting for the largest single crime category prosecuted during her tenure.

To see what Mr. Rove might be trying to cover up, look instead at what Ms. Lam was up to in May, just as the Justice Department e-mails indicate she was being earmarked for removal. Building on the Cunningham case, she was closing in on Dusty Foggo, the C.I.A.'s No. 3 official and the director of its daily operations. Mr. Foggo had been installed in this high intelligence position by Mr. Bush's handpicked successor to George Tenet as C.I.A. director, Porter Goss.

Ms. Lam's pursuit sped Mr. Foggo's abrupt resignation; Mr. Goss was out too after serving less than two years. Nine months later - just as Ms. Lam stepped down from her job in February - Mr. Foggo and a defense contractor who raised more than $100,000 for the 2004 Bush-Cheney campaign were indicted by a grand jury on 11 counts of conspiracy and money laundering in what The Washington Post called "one of the first criminal cases to reach into the C.I.A.'s clandestine operations in Europe and the Middle East." Because the allegations include the compromising of classified information that remains classified, we don't know the full extent of the damage to an agency and a nation at war.

As for Alberto? He'll soon be too much of a liability to keep around, but I have a hard time seeing him turn on his patron. He'll keep anything he knows to himself, and if he happens to get indicted for any reason, he'll wait faithfully for a pardon in March 2009 (or Christmas 2008, if Bush is feeling generous).