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In a long, passionate address, Hatfill used stronger language than in his first press conference on August 11 and stated his intention to take specific steps to clear his name, volunteering for blood tests and handwriting comparisons. The man who has been the sole target of media speculation about the possible identity of the anthrax mailer singled out three individuals for condemnation: biologist and conspiracy-theorist Barbara Hatch Rosenberg, New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof, and Attorney General John Ashcroft.
Although there were harsh words for Kristof during the Q&A portion of Sunday's press conference, Hatfill's prepared remarks reserved the most firepower for the attorney general. As Hatfill pointed out, the FBI has said repeatedly that he is not a suspect, and the FBI does not officially use the term "person of interest" — yet Ashcroft has twice now made direct reference to Hatfill as a "person of interest." Ashcroft, however, needs to offer the public more than a few leaks that amount to little more than implication and innuendo. Otherwise, the FBI and Ashcroft welcome charges of engaging in a Richard Jewell Redux, repeating the 1996 disaster where the FBI destroyed the reputation of the man who actually thwarted an attempted bombing at the Atlanta Olympics. Meanwhile, the media maelstrom against Hatfill has been predominantly fueled by Kristof. In a May 24 column in the New York Times — eight months after the first anthrax mailings were sent to media outlets — Kristof proclaims that "we" need to "light a fire under the F.B.I. in its investigation of the anthrax case." He "prod[s] the authorities" by guiding their attention to "one middle-aged American who has worked for the United States military bio-defense program." His reason for singling out this individual? "Experts" are "buzzing" about him. He never bothers to mention in the column which "experts" were doing the "buzzing" and why. Without any hard evidence to work with — Kristof actually acknowledges that "[t]here is not a shred of traditional physical evidence linking [Hatfill] to the attacks" — the best the columnist can muster is a collection of puzzle pieces designed to create a "Jewell profile" for Hatfill. Much as FBI leaks in 1996 noted that Jewell still lived with his mother — not a far stretch from a Norman Bates-type murderer, apparently — Kristof's case against Hatfill boils down to him being a lone scientist with access to an "isolated residence," who's also a racist with an embellished resume. Even if all those points were true — and while some may be, there are others that are either dramatic distortions or simple falsehoods — Hatfill would be at worst a loathsome character, not a mass murderer. The three most damning "facts" that Kristof offers seem to wilt upon closer inspection. In his fifth and latest column, the Pulitzer Prize-winner states flatly that Hatfill had failed three consecutive polygraphs since January. Hatfill denies this, claiming that he has taken one polygraph and passed it. If that were a lie, odds are every major news outlet would already have copies of the failed polygraphs. The other two "facts" served up by the columnist point to a direct Hatfill connection to anthrax. In a July 2 column, Kristof discusses the "isolated residence" where Hatfill "gave Cipro to people who visited it." That's a jaw dropper. It also seems to be a distortion of reality. According to Pat Clawson, a friend of Hatfill's for a number of years and who is acting as his spokesman, the "isolated residence" is actually a furnished three-bedroom modern house — with a hot tub and large TV — two hours outside of Washington, D.C. Clawson, who was an investigative reporter for years at both NBC and CNN, explained at the second Hatfill press conference what actually happened regarding the Cipro. Last October, Clawson opened a letter intended for Oliver North (who works for the same company), and there was a white powdery substance inside. Understandably, Clawson was a little worried about possible exposure to a deadly toxin, given the intense media coverage that heated up a week later about the anthrax letters. When skeet-shooting at the "isolated residence" with Hatfill and about ten other guys that month, Clawson asked his biologist friend if he needed Cipro. (Hatfill advised that the tetracycline Clawson was already taking for jaw pain should suffice, and then the guys joked about sexual diseases and creative uses of Cipro.) A third "fact" Kristof uses to tie a direct connection between Hatfill and anthrax — bloodhounds reacting to Hatfill and places he's been — is dubious at best, according to the Baltimore Sun. Kristof writes in his August 13 column: "Specially trained bloodhounds... responded strongly to Dr. Hatfill, to his apartment, to his girlfriend's apartment and even to his former girlfriend's apartment, as well as to restaurants that he had recently entered." Although he doesn't cite a source, this is apparently a reference to a Newsweek story that has been called into doubt by, among others, the Sun. The Sun reported: "Three veteran bloodhound handlers interviewed by the Sun were skeptical that a useful scent of the anthrax mailer would have remained on the letters months after they were mailed, rubbed against other letters and then decontaminated to kill the anthrax." But more significantly, the Sun contacted the managers at all twelve Denny's restaurants in Louisiana — the restaurant where the bloodhounds went nuts according to Newsweek — and all said they had not been visited by federal agents with bloodhounds. But again, since Kristof never mentions which restaurant he was citing, there is no way to prove — or disprove — his allegation. Maybe Kristof is unwilling to attribute sources to his claims because of where they seem to have come from: Barbara Hatch Rosenberg, whom Kristof describes as "a microbiologist who studies bioterrorism for the Federation of American Scientists" the one time he quotes her. Given her rants on the Internet — which list many of the same "facts" that have later turned up in Kristof's columns — Rosenberg might best be labeled a crank conspiracy theorist with an axe to grind against Hatfill. It doesn't take a long look at Rosenberg's website to realize why Kristof would not want to be too closely associated with her. The microbiologist muses that "perhaps the [anthrax] letters were actually an official assignment" of the U.S. government. Following on this "official assignment" theory, Rosenberg posits that the perpetrator would not be arrested and instead "rewarded for his service." Rosenberg also considers the prospect that the anthrax was not mailed at the behest of the U.S. government. In that instance, Rosenberg speculates that the mailer has not been arrested either "because the Suspect knows too much and must be controlled forever from the moment of arrest" or because "the FBI is sympathetic to [his] views." The attention from Rosenberg, Kristof, and Ashcroft makes clarifications that Hatfill is not actually a suspect relatively meaningless — especially after his name and face are now known, and we also know his house has been searched. The former U.S. government biologist has become the presumed anthrax mailer, and he will remain so unless and until someone else gets nailed or Hatfill manages to clear himself. Hatfill will soon undergo blood tests, which he claims he requested months ago, that will test antigens in his blood to see if he has had recent exposure to either anthrax or an anthrax vaccination. Hatfill will also submit a handwriting sample to the FBI, which will be compared to the handwriting in the four anthrax letters. Hatfill has waived his privacy rights with respect to the blood and handwriting tests, and he wants the results made public as soon as possible. These are not the sort of tests that a guilty man volunteers for. Hatfill actually did not even hire a criminal-defense attorney until after the second time his apartment was searched. In addition to the tests he's volunteered for, Hatfill has also made public his timesheet for the four days during which the anthrax letters could have been mailed. Given his post-9/11 workload at the government contractor where he was employed, even if he fudged his work hours, it seems unlikely that he could have pulled off the traveling involved in sending out the letters. With Hatfill on the offense, the government ought to make its move: Go public with the legitimate evidence against Hatfill, or, if there isn't any, publicly exonerate him and apologize. It seems only appropriate to ask of the Department of Justice. |
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second press conference held by Dr. Steven Hatfill, the "person of
interest" in the anthrax-mailings investigation, played out Sunday
much like a movie sequel, where the stakes are higher, the emotions are
more profound, and the dramatic tension is escalated. 
