INT. DARK PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT

[JUDITH MILLER pulls into a space, turns off her engine. She flicks the headlights on and off three times, and waits. Moments later, she hears footsteps. She gets out of the car. Two men approach her - KARL ROVE and a stranger. The stranger’s hands are bound together.]

MILLER: This better be good. I have deadlines…

ROVE: I’m sorry to inconvenience you, Ms. Miller. This is Ben, a vagrant that was panhandling near my home.

BEN: Sorry…

MILLER: Okay. What did you want me to see?

ROVE: I don’t want to be identified.

MILLER: Sure. What?

ROVE: Nothing. Just… this.

[Rove draws a gun from his jacket and shoots “Ben” with precision in the middle of his forehead. Ben collapses. Rove fires three more bullets directly into Ben’s chest. The shots echo through the nearly empty garage and fade into silence. Pause.]

ROVE: And… this.

[Rove signals a van at the other end of the garage. It drives towards them, stops, and the side door slides open. A man gets out. Rove hands him an attache case. The man opens the case. Miller sees stacks of $100 bills. The man hands Rove a duffel bag, from which Rove withdraws a baggie of white powder, which he examines.]

ROVE: Thank you for the pure Colombian cocaine, Hector.

HECTOR: De nada.

[Hector hops in the van and it peels off, leaving Rove and Miller alone.]

MILLER: What are we -

ROVE: Wait. I’m not finished…

[Over the next five minutes, as Miller watches, Karl Rove vandalizes a parked car, breaks into a van and steals a stereo, molests a young boy and then sells him into slavery, litters, tears the tag off an unsold mattress, conducts interviews and then hires an under-qualified white woman over several more appropriate black candidates, sexually harrasses his new employee, gives classified American military documents to an Iranian agent while explaining some of the finer points on a chalkboard, sells a truckload of weaponized anthrax to a Islamist militant, and lights a cigarette beneath a “No Smoking” sign. He pauses, puffs, and looks at Miller.]

MILLER: So…

ROVE: I showed you this in confidence.

MILLER: Of course. I’m a reporter.

ROVE: Of course. Oh, one more thing. Valerie Plame is a CIA operative.

[Rove puts out the cigarette on Ben’s chest, from which blood has stopped flowing. He walks off and disappears, leaving Miller alone in the garage. She takes out a notepad, begins to write something down, pauses, and then throws the pad into her back seat; there’s no story here…]

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Yeah, this Judith Miller business is complicated. And everyone’s having trouble thinking of Miller as the poster girl for anything - the left blames her for spreading the disinformation that led to the Iraq war. The right blames her for… being a Times reporter. Despite these challenges, there’s a lot of support for her martyrdom.

To me, there’s a crucial distinction between hearing a confession in confidence and actually witnessing a crime, and a distinction between witnessing a crime and being involved in one. After all, if Miller’s source had revealed Valerie Plame’s professional identity aloud and there was nobody there to hear it, you don’t need a philosophy degree to see that that’s not a crime - Judith Miller’s presence was required to break federal law.

I don’t know. On this case I can be persuaded I’m wrong, and this happens just about every day. I flip-flop. And like a lot of people, I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more going on here than meets the eye.

But I don’t think it’s as cut-and-dried as some First Amendment enthusiasts are saying. If Miller had watched her source reveal military secrets, help an al Qaeda operative plot an attack on the White House, or molest a child, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be protecting her source. So it’s a matter of her judgment that the crime she witnessed, was actually part of, wasn’t important enough to merit breaking her journalistic confidentiality.

That’s a judgment call. So is sending her to prison. And though I’m worried about a “chilling effect” on journalism, I think it’s more complicated than that. After all, my sources tell me that Miller and Rove have been lovers for years. I’d love to give you more details, but ethics forbid it.