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Secrets of the Secret Service

Page 6

by Gary J. Byrne


  The trap sprung when the president swore on a legal affidavit that he was not having an affair with an intern. But he could not help but double down, and he claimed he had never even been alone in the same room with her. Clinton, a lawyer himself, fell right into the trap.

  On June 6, 1997, the Secret Service welcomed Lewis Merletti as its nineteenth director. Merletti had been raised old-school Catholic. He had served as a Green Beret in the Vietnam War and earned a Bronze Star. He had joined the Philadelphia field office of the Secret Service before moving to DC. He had soon become part of the service’s Counter Assault Team (CAT) and later a CAT team leader. From CAT, he had joined the PPD. He had gone on to become the special agent in charge (SAIC) of President Clinton’s PPD, the position that usually leads to the directorship of the Secret Service. As lead agent of the president’s detail while the president visited Manila, Philippines, Director Merletti saved the president’s life by exerting the override authority and rerouting the motorcade based on some sudden intelligence reports. The hunch was confirmed when a special forces group did indeed discover that a major terrorist organization intended to assassinate the president and had planted a large bomb under a bridge on the initial motorcade route. Director Merletti was an incredible agent and a hero.

  Director Merletti was the kind of guy the American people and everyone in the Secret Service would want with them in a firefight. He was damn good at what he did: soldiering, fighting, leading soldiers into battle, and protecting the president’s life. President Clinton seemed intimidated by, almost standoffish with, most military personnel, especially those in uniform. Many in the administration who had been carried over from the presidential campaign more or less shared the president and first lady’s aloof attitude toward military and law enforcement uniforms. Vice President Gore once gave a pep talk to one of his children saying something to the effect that the child had better do well in school lest the child end up like “one of those guys,” referring to the agents on the vice president’s protection detail. Despite the release of the young Bill Clinton’s correspondence with his draft board outing him as a Vietnam War draft dodger, Clinton and Merletti, the Vietnam War veteran, connected well.

  The reasons behind the departure of Bowron, Merletti’s predecessor, were clear only to Bowron himself. Theories emerged among Secret Service personnel that Bowron had known of the impending crisis and had not wanted to lead the agency through the fight that was bound to happen. What is known is that Bowron had withheld key information about the exposure of the Secret Service, revealing it to Merletti only after Merletti decided how to defend the agency from the investigations that later consumed it.

  On January 17, 1998, less than seven months after Merletti became director, the Drudge Report website broke its now infamous story headlined in all capitals: “NEWSWEEK KILLS STORY ON WHITE HOUSE INTERN. BLOCKBUSTER REPORT: 23-YEAR OLD, FORMER WHITE HOUSE INTERN, SEX RELATIONSHIP WITH PRESIDENT.” It was a few days before anyone from the Secret Service would look at the revelations and realize that the agency had been deeply involved throughout. The Drudge Report’s exclusive story implicated the Secret Service directly. The choice was immediately clear: either the service could absolve the president of wrongdoing, or it could seal his fate.

  The Drudge Report revealed that the president had begun his affair with the woman when she was merely twenty-one years old. The Secret Service had issued her an Old Executive Office Building pass while she was an intern, which she had used for her liaisons with the president. Her every visitation had been screened and logged by the Secret Service. The Secret Service had logged her into its system as a visitor when she came to see President Clinton late at night. The haste with which the Secret Service issued her a permanent pass was especially suspicious when she suddenly became an employee in the West Wing.

  The Secret Service had cleared her to access anywhere in the complex except the private living quarters, and she could see what the president and chief of staff Leon Panetta saw in the West Wing, even operational intelligence. It didn’t take Ken Starr long to lock onto the Secret Service as a potential font of evidence.

  The second wallop for Director Merletti and the Secret Service came just over a week later. At midnight on Monday, January 26, 1998, the Dallas Morning News dropped its exclusive story—using a single, uncorroborated “close” source—that said a Secret Service agent was with Starr and “ready to testify.” The story was picked up by the New York Post, whose headline read “Sexgate Stunner, Secret Service Agent to Testify: I Saw Them Do It.” But only two days later, the story was dead. As the Washington Post headlined a story by its media reporter Howard Kurtz: “Dallas Paper’s Story Traveled Far Before Being Shot Down.”

  Kurtz wrote that although the Dallas paper had reported “that investigators had spoken with a Secret Service agent who was prepared to testify that he saw President Clinton and the former White House intern in a compromising situation,” which was, “to put it mildly, explosive stuff,” it hadn’t lasted long. “Hours later,” Kurtz reported, “sometime after midnight, the Morning News retracted the story. The piece, published in the paper’s first edition and posted on its World Wide Web site, was declared inoperative in a subsequent Web announcement.”

  Inside the Secret Service at the time, the view was that a mystery agent had indeed volunteered information; what’s more, Merletti thought so, too. Starr was already probing at the agency.

  Merletti, however, was determined that all Secret Service employees, both those still employed and those who had retired, stand fast and tow the “secret” line. Those of us on the ground felt his thinking was that patriotic Americans would see it that way, too—that protecting the presidency (and by extension the Secret Service brand) was essential. This was the mentality of the Counter Assault Teams and the PPD, where Merletti had cut his teeth.

  As the Secret Service’s leaders realized that their legacy was threatened by the developing “Sexgate” scandal, Director Merletti put his plan into action without strategic pause or objective reflection on the service’s history. His advisers never entertained contrarian ideas or developed alternative methods of handling the situation. Merletti hadn’t even had time in his career or his directorship to fully learn his agency’s history. Had he done so, things might have been different. He should have known what Starr knew: that there was no basis for “secrecy” in the “Secret Service” grounded in legal statute or precedent. The Secret Service was no more secret than the FBI or DEA. Furthermore, he had never discussed the scandals with frontline officers or agents who had direct knowledge of the events. He simply forged ahead, unaware of the extent of the agency’s exposure.

  On top of this, the Secret Service’s chief legal counsel gave Merletti bad advice, pointing out that Starr was a former colleague and as such would probably be friendly and amenable to keeping the service out of it. That was a grave error and led Merletti to misjudge Starr’s intentions badly.

  Merletti sat down with Attorney General Janet Reno, along with others including Deputy Attorney General—and future AG—Eric Holder. He made the case that the Secret Service faced serious threats every day, and in order to protect the president from them, they needed his trust that it would remain silent. His message was clear: if Secret Service personnel are forced to testify, the president will be forced to push them away, resulting in more danger to him. Under Director Merletti’s direction, the Secret Service made the case that if the agency had an obligation to testify against the president, the president would be incentivized to push away the Secret Service, and the resulting distance could endanger the president; it even referenced President Kennedy’s assassination. Despite being historically inaccurate, that deeply emotional view was shared widely throughout the Department of Justice.

  The Secret Service legal counsel, with input from senior Secret Service and Treasury officials, created a legal notion that was pure extrapolation with no basis in actual law, calling it “the executive protective function privil
ege.” It was based on the legal privileges given to spouses to avoid testifying against each other.

  When Merletti made the case to Starr, Starr rushed him through his presentation and then came to what was apparently his true purpose for the meeting: questioning Merletti about the president’s relationship with the young intern. Merletti felt frustrated, and Deputy AG Holder suggested that he try again. Merletti made the pitch again, and Starr once again brought the discussion back to his target.

  At that point, Merletti realized that he needed backup. He called all living former Secret Service directors into his office and included a special guest, former First Lady Detail Agent Clint Hill, who had jumped onto the back of President Kennedy’s limousine in Dallas all those years ago. Merletti still felt that invoking the Kennedy assassination would help his case. With that audience, it worked. Every former director backed Merletti’s play. Each corroborated the director’s view that the Secret Service had been, would be, and should be invisible to investigations into the president.

  In that meeting, former director Bowron informed Merletti for the first time of a serious problem: Bowron had established a conflicting precedent during his tenure. During the Rose Law Firm investigation into the first lady and other investigations, Bowron had agreed to let agents volunteer to speak with Ken Starr if they had direct knowledge related to Starr’s query. Bowron declared before his successor and all the predecessors present that the only regret he had in his entire time as director is that he had not resigned right then. Starr had not disclosed that fact to Merletti, either.

  Hill, in the meeting and then again afterward, made sure Merletti understood the terms: if Secret Service employees testified, future presidents would die.

  Agent Clint Hill was a hero for his actions in trying to save President Kennedy’s life. He had not hesitated to try to save the president and first lady that day in Dallas. But he had been helpless, not because of a lack of protective privilege but because of a series of strategic failures by Secret Service leaders, the PPD, and President Kennedy. Agent Hill suffered from “survivor’s guilt.” But he also suffered from something largely unexplained and never before studied in the academic psychological community: “protector’s guilt,” a consequence of losing a protectee with whom you spent more time than your own family. Merletti took advantage of that to make an emotional and personal argument to shield the Secret Service from Starr’s investigation.

  In Ken Gormley’s book The Death of American Virtue: Clinton vs. Starr, Merletti was quoted as saying “If there’s a crime, you’re not going to have to ask us about it. We’re going to come forward and tell you about it. But if you have an investigation, then you’re going to have to investigate it otherwise. Because it’s compromising Secret Service trust and confidence, which then compromises proximity, and it’s all over.”

  But that view meant that the Secret Service was not “worthy of trust and confidence” to all Americans but to only one American: the president. When Merletti made the decision to oppose allowing Secret Service employees to testify regarding anything they witnessed that could hurt the president, I believe he sacrificed the Secret Service’s soul.

  That pivotal choice of allegiance was crucial for the Secret Service. The president it sought to protect did not return the favor. When President Clinton doubled down on his perjury, the director and the entire Secret Service were forced into an untenable position.

  Cracks soon appeared in the Secret Service’s stonewalling efforts. In February 1998, a retired Uniformed Division officer named Lewis C. Fox, known as the “Silver Fox” to colleagues, watched a television broadcast about the investigation at a Pennsylvania diner. He made several comments about his knowledge of the case to other patrons, and they found their way to the news media. Soon it was reported that a “Secret Service guard” knew firsthand that the Drudge story was true, that he knew that the president had indeed been alone in the Oval Office with the intern in question, and that the president had lied. Starr now had another potential source—and unfortunately for Merletti, since Fox was retired, the Secret Service counsel had no leverage to use on him.

  Then things got worse. Starr subpoenaed a former PPD agent from President Clinton’s protective detail whom I will call “Bud.” Bud was already internally famous for the way he’d left the Secret Service. After he had martial problems that spilled over into his work and caused disturbances, the Secret Service cut him a deal, probably trying to make the story go away. He had resigned and ended up with a higher-paying job in the private sector, presumably while he collected a retirement settlement negotiated with the service that included a positive recommendation letter. The Secret Service had swept Bud’s story under the rug to protect its own name, but now he was in Starr’s sights and could reveal a story that was a lot more embarrassing than his own adultery and corruption.

  And with the “Silver Fox” in hand, it was only a matter of time before Starr discovered the full value of the Uniformed Division. UD officers manned the personnel and vehicle entry and exit gates on the fence line. There was always something going on at the White House, and though the agents protected individuals, the security of the White House hummed because of the committed work of the Uniformed Division. Among their postings throughout the entire White House, the UD officers saw everything that was going on. Starr soon discovered that he had stumbled into a gold mine.

  Secret Service counsel advised everyone to “hold tight” as the subpoenas for specific UD officers and their physical materials started flying out of Secret Service headquarters fax machines.

  Starr first subpoenaed the UD post logbooks and Workers and Visitors Entry System (WAVES) records. Getting nervous, Merletti offered Starr a deal: He asked Starr not to probe Secret Service leadership or any agents on the Presidential Protective Division, convincing him that they would be too loyal to their protectee and would go to jail to avoid testifying. If Starr would leave them alone, Merletti would provide Starr with access to UD officers stationed at the White House and any others who had had “run-ins” and “incidents” with the intern in question.

  Starr had been duped and missed an opportunity to gather key evidence. The PPD agents were the ones who were with the president at all times and could have given him what he needed. What’s more, Merletti had been bluffing when he had said they would fight to avoid testifying—though some might, there were many who would not have done so. As for Bud, the former PPD agent, he was brought back under the Secret Service’s legal protection as part of the deal.

  Several Uniformed Division officers—including me—were aware that they were likely to be targeted because of what they knew. Those officers notified their supervisors and managers in anticipation of the firestorm to come. The middle managers at first dismissed their concerns, but within two hours, we were taken off our posts and told to report to Secret Service headquarters for a legal debriefing the following morning. Everyone’s minds and stomachs turned over as we thought about what would come next. Where would our loyalties lie? At first there was a collective sense of denial, dread, anger, and frustration. After everything we had witnessed on the job, we wondered: Is this the scandal that will either prove the Clintons invincible, as many believed, or could it be the one that will finally lead to their downfall?

  When my fellow officers and I sat down with the Secret Service attorneys, the lawyers tried to gain our trust, but it soon became clear that their goal was simply to get us to sign on to the agency’s plan. To complicate things, none of the officers there could afford private lawyers, so the Secret Service legal counsel would represent us, as long as we “cooperated.” As for the alternative, if any officer decided to contact the OIC individually, it was heavily insinuated that his security clearances (necessary to keep our job) would be revoked.

  Agreeing to play ball and accept Secret Service representation carried another important benefit: under the deal worked out among the Secret Service, OIC, and DOJ, Starr agreed that any subpoenas served to office
rs being represented by Secret Service lawyers would have to be faxed to the agency. That was important to the officers themselves, who didn’t want to be served at work or at home.

  The officers in the meeting began pushing back, and the lawyers only made things worse with a critical misunderstanding. In what they apparently viewed as a favor, the attorneys told us we were being pulled from all overtime duty, effective immediately. Many of us depended on the overtime pay to support our families, so of course we objected—but the lawyers were unmoved.

  It was clear that the lawyers assumed President Clinton’s professions of innocence to be true, while the officers in the room did not. When the lawyers implied that the officers might be placing the agency in legal risk if they suggested in testimony that the president was not being truthful, the room erupted in grunts and gasps. I saw many fellow officers shift their body language at the suggestion, and the lawyers were clearly on their toes. The officers also recognized something the lawyers did not: that their own security clearances were actually higher than those of the attorneys, meaning that what the officers could share with their supposed “representatives” was limited.

  The lawyers clearly were not expecting the barrage of questions we threw at them. What was our personal risk if we refused to answer the OIC’s questions? How wide would the scope of the investigation go? Would Starr’s net catch other instances of fraternization, including the affairs between Secret Service personnel and Clinton staffers? The lawyers were taken aback; they’d had no idea of the Pandora’s box the UD officers would open for the president, Starr, and the agency. But we had been on the front lines and knew what had been going on in Clinton world for years.

 

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