Tuesday, November 06, 2018
I saw a frightening side of him in 1998. I saw it again at the Christine Blasey Ford hearing 20 years later. Back in the 1990s, when my last name was Nardella, I was a mother of two living in a Virginia suburb of Washington, working as a Republican fundraiser. Through community engagement and charity work, I met Alice and Ken Starr. The Starrs, in turn, introduced me to the head of a Dallas-based strategic communications firm, Merrie Spaeth, and around 1997, Spaeth hired me to run her boutique D.C. office. Starr was then serving as the independent counsel investigating the relationship between Bill Clinton and a White House intern, and in 1998, Spaeth and I were charged with helping prep Starr to present his history-making report to Congress. In the course of our work, I met one of his team's key lawyers, 33-year-old Brett Kavanaugh.
One day, after a group meeting in the independent counsel's offices, I was alone in the conference room, walking around the table and gathering up materials. The door opened, and someone came in. I don't believe I looked up to see who it was -- I just assumed that somebody had forgotten something. In what seemed like a split second, Kavanaugh had come around to my side of the table and was invading my space, badgering me in a way that I didn't understand. I changed directions around the table and kept moving. He followed on my heels.
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