The Agnew option
Wind, rain and hail pummeled the line of mourners that stretched on for a day and a night in the first act of Richard M. Nixon’s funeral in 1994. It was a scene worthy of “King Lear,” according to The New York Times.
Lear wasn’t a perfect analogy, because there’s no ghost in Lear. The former president’s funeral had one: Spiro Agnew, the vice president Nixon plucked from relative obscurity as a pugnacious governor of Maryland to be his running mate.
Agnew vanished from the public stage in October 1973, one of the most tumultuous months in U.S. history, marked by the “Saturday Night Massacre” of Watergate infamy, the
Yom Kippur War of Arabs against Israel, and Agnew’s resignation under the shadow of criminal charges.
I’ve been remembering Agnew’s appearance that gray day in California—the first and last time I laid eyes on him in person. Just as the ghosts of Shakespeare bear lessons for the living, so the specter of Agnew might have something to teach us now, as Justice Department prosecutors decide what to do about former president Donald Trump.
After an investigation into Agnew’s tenure as governor revealed a sordid history of bribery, fraud and corruption, federal prosecutors offered an unusual plea deal. In exchange for his immediate resignation, a plea of nolo contendere to a single federal tax violation and a fine of $10,000, Agnew was allowed to pass into private life.
Trump has little to fear from the “criminal referrals” lodged with the Justice Department by the House Jan. 6 committee this week. But the earlier appointment of special counsel Jack Smith to oversee two federal investigations is not political theater. As with every special counsel, Smith has the time, budget and staff with which to pursue Trump, his family and staff. Such investigations can last many years.
Trump told me in a radio interview in September that “I can’t imagine being indicted,” adding “I’ve done nothing wrong.” Maybe not in most jurisdictions. But what about a jury trial in D.C., the epicenter of Trump-hatred? The former president should be worried.
I asked my Post colleague Ruth Marcus—one of the country’s shrewdest observers of legal controversies since her graduation from Harvard Law School—whether Trump’s troubles, and the nation’s deep division over them, might be resolved by a sort of “Agnew Option”: an end to the legal warfare in exchange for a retirement from political life.
Ruth quickly, and correctly in my view, responded that Trump would never enter a plea, even though in her eyes it would be good for the country.
But I’m not talking about a plea, because I don’t believe there are facts in the public’s view supporting a reasonable theory about the necessary “elements” showing Trump has committed any crime. Period. Only those who have never worked in a White House can doubt that papers often get mixed up in the chaos of a transition, and Trump’s power to declassify when he was president was unlimited.
As for the New York and Georgia matters, they seem like very weak legal tea. The idea that Trump intended a riot and occupation of the Capitol? I don’t believe it. And I doubt any reasonable jury instructed on reasonable doubt and the legal meaning of intent would, either. But should Trump take the risk that I am wrong?
Trump thrives on battles. But this one has the potential to be ruinously expensive for him, his family and his staff. He has no White House counsel’s offense to defend him; only private lawyers expecting to be paid in advance. His Agnew Option would save him untold millions, plus the risk of being convicted of a crime in a hostile jurisdiction.
Trump would have to promise to follow the path of other modern former presidents: a memoir, a library and museum, some highly paid appearances, but no more campaigns, for himself or others.
Could he live without rallies? Perhaps, if it meant no more courtrooms.