Ana Marie Cox on Judy Miller's Testimony

For those who have followed the Scooter Libby case from the beginning, former New York Times reporter Judith Miller is, at best, a divisive figure. While some admire her tenacity in resisting pressure to reveal the names of her sources, others seethe at her protecting an official under investigation for breaking the law. Her personal behavior appears to have made some enemies — a New York magazine article quotes one colleague complaining that "She's a s--- to the people she works with" — and then there's her WMD reporting. Ahem.

Anyway. The Judith Miller on the stand Tuesday was not the sharp-elbowed WMD hunter and cheerleader for discredited former Iraqi exile Ahmed Chalabi. Instead, she was a kind of drab version of Anna Wintour, in a velvet blazer and white shirt, obediently, even meekly, answering questions from prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald. After a thorough review of her note-taking practices (a line across the page for when the subject changes, notes to indicate a change in ground rules), Fitzgerald asked about her meetings with Libby; she replied. It was the opposite of news. Ari Fleischer's testimony was positively theatrical by comparison.

Even the highlight of Fitzgerald's questioning found her disarmingly (though shy of charmingly) self-deprecating. Discussing her return to the U.S. after being embedded in Iraq, she said, "I was surprised to see a great debate, a very angry one on whether or not WMD intelligence had been distorted or the White House had lied."

Fitzgerald: "Where was the anger directed?"

Miller: "At Administration, at media in particular, and me."

Well, yes.

The defense's questioning was less straightforward. Helmed by William Jeffress, the defense team's word of the day was "remember." He hammered on how Miller gave testimony to the grand jury twice, the second time after she had discovered a notebook with notes pertaining to a June 23, 2003, meeting with Libby. Jeffress displayed shocked incredulity at this lapse in memory.

"This conversation that you described in such detail — when you first appeared, did you remember that at all, didn't remember a thing about it? Today you've described in great detail."

Those of us raised on Law and Order immediately recognize this tactic. It goes, as Sam Waterston would say, to credibility.

But that's not exactly what was happening. The defense does not wish to blow Miller's story out of the water so much as they want to poke a thousand holes in it, leave it leaking and adrift on the shoals of an apparently faulty memory. The Libby defense, after all, is all about memory. He didn't commit perjury, they seem to contend, he just lost track of the truth.

So the defense spent most of its time finding picayune discrepancies between grand jury testimony and trial testimony, between the testimony of witnesses, between a statement in the press and a statement on the stand. On Monday, the defense went rather intently after Fleischer for saying he had read Wilson's name in one document when, in reality, he had read it somewhere else.

What's more, the nitpicking did not reflect well on the defense. During Miller's testimony, it felt as if they were badgering the poor Wintour-lite lady: When did you remember? Did you remember in this time frame or that one? Did you say this or did you say this? Who would like to be subject to such an examination? The rhetoric become intricate experiments in SAT-style questions, "A grand jury leaves the station at 4 o'clock, carrying five subpoenas and three notebooks..."

Jeffress pulled a similar maneuver later in the day when asking Miller about other sources she may have talked to. Miller had responded to other questions about conversations she had during this time period by saying she doesn't remember who she talked to. At this point, however, the trial ground to a halt. Miller is reluctant to give up sources, as you may have heard, and the jury was dismissed while the two sides, and Miller's lawyer, discussed the issue.

At first, the objection seemed irrelevant. She has said she doesn't remember whom she talked to; if that's the case, then she has no sources to protect. There was back-and-forth, and Miller's lawyer eventually agreed to a more narrow version of the question.

But before things could get started again, Fitzgerald's memory failed him: "I hate to admit my ignorance, but what is the question?"

The discussion continued over the defense's desire to ask Miller about any sources with whom she discussed anything related to Wilson. Both Miller's attorney and Fitzgerald contend that the universe of things related to Wilson is quite large (and Wilson would probably argue that he is at the center of it). There's WMD intelligence, the honesty of the Bush Administration and the war itself. Exasperated, Fitzgerald told the judge, "I'm sorry, I'll take a timeout. If [the war] is going to be tried in this trial, we've got to bring cots."