It has been many, many years since I looked at my prep school yearbook. Notwithstanding my age and onset dementia, I do remember however, that there is not a single word next to my mug shot that I am ashamed of or embarrassed by. The revealing, embarrassing, vulgar stupidity of Mr. Kavanaugh’s yearbook entry does not recommend Georgetown Prep as a serious college preparatory school. (High school seniors be forewarned: colleges are going to want to see your yearbook page.)
Let us say that some stranger on the next block accuses me of molesting a kid at the neighborhood community center on the weekend of July 7, 2018. I don’t know the kid, I don’t know the accuser and I don’t go to that community center. The fact is, I was in a pool tournament in Las Vegas that weekend! But then another accuser comes along and says he saw me at that community center that same weekend playing Ping-Pong with the abused kid. Merde!
Such an allegation, if true, would be suicidally devastating. If I were not able to prove my innocence beyond all reasonable doubt I most certainly would WANT to kill myself because I am NOT “that kind of person”!
But then the prosecutor asks me if I would like to absolutely, unequivocally, forever clear my name by having the FBI and the Las Vegas police department investigate to find out if, in fact, I was in Las Vegas the day of the alleged incident? Is there anybody with warm blood coursing through his veins who would think for a moment that as an innocent man I would hesitate for a nano-second to have these law enforcement agencies verify my innocence by determining the fact that I was playing a game of 8-ball, 1,116 miles away for a thousand dollars at exactly the time at which the alleged event took place? Wouldn’t I JUMP at such an opportunity to clear my name?
Judge Kavanaugh gave a brilliant, polished, lachrymose opening statement in which he reiterated over and over that he has always been a nice person, that he worked his butt off in the library and on the athletic field and that he has a million devoted female friends going back to the time when he was just 14 years old. It was a stellar performance worthy of an Emmy (I even shed a tear when he spoke of his daughter’s plea to pray for Dr. Ford). Repeatedly, he cried (literally) about the ruination of his life, career, coaching and family by these allegations.
And repeatedly, he was asked, “Why not let the FBI look into this thing and totally clear your name of these horrible allegations” and repeatedly, he demurred, equivocated and filibustered.
If innocent of these uncharitable accusations, the Federal Bureau of Investigation WOULD find out; this is not a difficult Hercule Poirot case to solve. The FBI is capable of finding the Safeway employment records of Mr. Mark Judge. I think an experienced FBI investigation team would be able to convince Mr. Judge of the perils of perjury. The FBI is capable of finding out if Renate Dolphin was “just one of the guys” or if it is a sexual allusion. The FBI is capable of determining why Leland Keyser has difficulty remembering a mutual friend and the FBI can easily determine the veracity of Debbie Ramirez’s allegations as well as those of Julie Swetnik. The Feds would certainly talk to the two guys now claiming to have been the actual ones assaulting Dr. Ford in 1982.
Then we would know. He would know; and the world would know…THE TRUTH…Brett Kavanaugh or Bart O’Cavanaugh.
But like a brilliant script begun almost two years ago by Donald Trump we have been led to believe that the FBI is partisan, corrupt and stupid. Why bother to have those Clinton bootlickers investigate these allegations?
Maybe, just maybe, Supreme Court Justice Kavanaugh will have been so compromised by these hearings that his avowed Platonic, patronizing love fest with hundreds of women, will come back to haunt him when it comes time to roll back Roe.