Watching the special prosecutor drama unfold is like watching A Few Good Men.
We’re at the part now where Tom Cruise explains his winning strategy against Jack Nicholson. Here’s how the lowly Navy Lieutenant plans to bring down a decorated Marine Colonel:
Kaffee: He eats breakfast 300 yards away from 4000 Cubans that are trained to kill him. And nobody’s going to tell him how to run his unit least of all the Harvard mouth in his faggoty white uniform. I need to shake him, put him on the defensive and lead him right where he’s dying to go.
Befuddled, Cruise’s lawyer buddy asks, ‘That’s it? That’s the plan?’
‘That’s the plan.’
In the case of the special prosecutor, you can bet there’s no second guessing a similar tactic. Does anybody really doubt the target of the investigation isn’t just dying to puff out his chest, bluster against the system, and fill the air with self-incriminating boasts?
The danger for Cruise’s character—a cocky, neophyte junior officer—was very real. When the game’s in play, the witness about to go before the judge, Demi Moore offers Cruise a way out:
Joanne: Listen. Danny. When you’re out there, if it’s not gonna happen, if you feel like he’s not going to say it, don’t go for it. You could get in trouble. I’m with internal affairs, and I’m telling you. You could get in a lot of trouble.
The Special Prosecutor, however, will read from a different script.
He’s a combat-veteran Marine, a former U.S. attorney, and of course former Director of the top law enforcement agency in the land. Over a long career he’s earned the trust and respect of a grateful nation.
His opponent—one Commandant Bonespurs—is a formerly bankrupt businessman, tv huckster, and vaporous old egotist.
Nobody’s going to tell him how to run his Republic. And once on the stand, forced on the defensive, he’ll be led exactly where he’s dying to go.