Crisis of Character: A White House Secret Service Officer Discloses His Firsthand Experience with Hillary, Bill, and How They Operate by Gary J. Byrne

Author:Gary J. Byrne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

15.

MUD DRAG: PART II

I had been called back to answer a subpoena.

In total I received six subpoenas, all of which compelled me to testify truthfully via videotape before a grand jury. I was questioned in a small, simple room containing a few chairs and a single table. Nothing was ornate. It resembled a nicer version of a standard interrogation room. With the videographer’s setup, plus the court reporter, her little machine, and the prosecution lawyers crowding inside, the room got even smaller. All eyes, especially the dark eye of the video camera, were on me. All I had for comfort was my conscience and a plastic bottle of water.

The court reporter swore me in. Secret Service attorneys stood outside waiting for me to excuse myself and come to them when I had questions regarding what I had to keep secret. “Do the right thing, Gary,” I felt my wife was saying miles away.

A female attorney from Starr’s staff counseled me on my right against self-incrimination.

She reminded me that I couldn’t lie by saying, “I don’t remember.” She reminded me that her team wouldn’t ask about secret or privileged matters of the White House. But they definitely wanted nonprivileged information. The gray areas between privileged and nonprivileged was my not-so-private hell.

C-SPAN later broadcast the video of my interrogation. But viewers didn’t get the whole picture. The Secret Service blacked out details regarding my postings, official names, and details or accounts of the president’s movements. (I could finally provide those after Chief Justice William Rehnquist essentially voided the concept of “protective privilege.”) Then all the marking, noting, and initialing of exhibits started—just to keep things straight.

My plastic water bottle was my crinkly comfort blanket. I really wanted to feel the reassurance of my firearm against my hip, but that was not to be. They made me hand over my gun before my questioning commenced.

They wanted to know every little detail. I testified to the numerous times I had discovered Monica where she clearly didn’t belong, what I thought of her, how she manipulated friendships, how distraught Nel was, and how I’d thrown away those lipstick-smeared towels. I couldn’t legally mention semen—because that was the president’s.

I wanted to curl up and die.

I made it clear that I never thought I was committing any crimes. I thought I was protecting the president from more rumors—particularly the true ones. They asked if I connected the lipstick to Monica. Surprisingly, no one had ever asked me that before, so I never revealed my thoughts. But Presidential Protective Function Privilege prevented my honest answer. I was on thin ice any which way I moved.

“You thought it could be anyone?” a lawyer asked.

I responded with a heavy fear upon my chest. “Without revealing any privileged information, on the advice of my counsel, yes, I did.”

I wasn’t lying. Or was I? I was up a legal shit’s creek without a paddle. The only one who could un-f—my situation was the president!

“I did not connect the lipstick to Monica at that time.

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