I thought that after three days I would stop being quite as bothered by the Libby verdict. Wrong. The outrage only grows. Not at the juror, although I think they got lost in the weeds, but at the outrageous behavior of Specially-obnoxious Prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald. A number of columns this morning do a brilliant job making the case that Fitzgerald was not just misguided but dishonest. Yes, he who prosecuted somebody for lies that were not lies is, himself, a liar. Probably the two best of those columns are by Charles Krauthammer and by Rich Lowry.
I read somewhere that Fitzgerald went to a late lunch at the Old Ebbitt Grill on Tuesday to celebrate his victory over decency, common sense, and proper prosecutorial discretion. What a shame. I was the the Old Ebbitt three days earlier. If I had been there when Fitzgerald walked in, I would have been sorely tempted to walk up to him and say, “Excuse me, sir, but you are a lout. You have abused your position of authority. You should rot. Thank you, and don’t have a good day. Good bye.”