was Judge Walton impressed by Joseph Bottum's letter?

[Enrique]

do you think he might have been considering letting Scooter off, until he read this?


http://media.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/politics/pdf/libbyletters-a-d.pdf

Dear Judge Walton,

My name is Joseph Bottum, and I am a widely published poet and essayist, the editor of
an intellectual journal called First Things, and a friend of Scooter Libby's. I am writing
today to ask that you apply, in your sentencing ofMr. Libby, the greatest leniency and
judicial mercy.

Others will doubtless write you about the man's generosity, his kindness, and his parental
care for his family. All this is true: From personal experience, I believe-more, I knowhim
to be a good person, a good civil servant, and a good friend.

I wish that I could find the words to show you Scooter Libby as I know him: his
intelligence, his charm, his wit, his internal goodness. It was Scooter who introduced me
to the Washington horror known as "the breakfast meeting." That was back in 1996, as I
remember. I hadn't met him before, but I'd just reviewed his novel, The Apprentice, and
he sent me a thank-you note, diffidently suggesting that the next time I was in D.C. we
might sit down and talk about books for an hour.

Unfortunately, the hour he had in mind was 7:00 am., and still sleepy midway through
my third cup of coffee, I finally snapped-explaining to him in a snarl the great law that
binds all night-owl book readers: Anyone who actually has something to say about the
structure of a novel like James Joyce's Ulysses is incapable of saying it before noon.
11:15, in a pinch.

He leaned back in the restaurant booth for an instant, offended, I think-then suddenly
laughed and gave me that odd smile t remember best about him, his mouth in a wry twist
that showed you the other side ofthe smooth K Street lawyer: the reader, the novelist, the
ironic observer. From then on, we met for late lunches and even later dinners. It was
always hard to get him out in the evening: He refused to turn the children over to the
babysitter until he'd read them to sleep, which made it 9:00 before he could join ustalking
nonstop about books he'd read, their plot devices and narrative techniques, until
he finally remembered he had a breakfast meeting with someone from the FCC the next
morning, and wrenched himself away.

To incarcerate such a man feels horribly wrong to me. He still has much to offer the
world, and his indictment, trial, and conviction have already damaged him enormously.
What money does he have left? What chance, with his law license gone, does he have to
make it back? What reputation can he ever regain? Why must any more punishment be
heaped upon him?

More, I fear a deep philosophical injury from all this-a damage not just to my friend but
to the nation. When I first heard of Scooter's conviction, I sat down and wrote these lines:

I have several friends-a surprising number with real literary talent-who
were invited to help this administration. And each one I urged to accept
the appointment. You owe it to your country, I said, particularly in times
like these. Public service is a duty you can't refuse, when your turn comes.

Never again. Bene vixit, bene qui fatuit, Ovid once warned ambitious
young men about the bloodsports ofancient Roman politics: "He lives
well who is well hidden." Good advice, I suppose. Keep your head down.
Don't look for trouble. Stay under the radar. Cultivate your own garden.
It's just that, until now, I never really believed this was America. I never
really believed this was us.

Written in grief, those words are ones I now wish I could recall. But I beg you, Your
Honor, to think of the damage done to the political health ofthe republic-s-to the
willingness of the talented and serious to participate in public life-by further
punishment of Scooter Libby. The moral ofhis tale is already that political life can easily
end in financial bankruptcy, legal disbarment, and utter destruction of reputation. It need
not-it should not-reach to additional judicial sentences.

Judge Walton--I, who make my living with words, find words failing me here. All I can
do is ask: Please, Your Honor, see beneath this man's conviction to the potential that
remains with him. And please, Your Honor, see beyond this man's conviction to the
dangers further punishment would mean to our shared lives in this country.

Sincerely yours,

Joseph Bottum

[JDPriestly]

1. Think of all the books Libby will have time to read in prison.

I wonder if Mr. Bottum likes Libby enough to visit him in prison. We shall see, perhaps.

[Enrique]

2. perish the thought

a man of Mr. Bottum's delicate sensibilities would not do in such a place. Especially with a name like Bottum.

[acmavm]

3. Awwwwwwww...

<snip>


He refused to turn the children over to the babysitter until he'd read them to sleep, which made it 9:00 before he could join...


<snip>

Why old Scoots just sounds like Mr. America, Mr. Everyman, and Mr. Can Afford Domestic Help all rolled into one.

[Me.]

4. I Am Reeling From Deep Philosophical Injury

Libby and his ilk have inflicted on the nation so let him take his wry smile and hie it hence, to jail, where he can reflect, philosophically of course, on the harm he's done.

[n2doc]

5. Why am I remined of Thurston Howell III?

"Egads! a Yale man!"