Omerta isn't what it used to be — The mystery of why I. Lewis Libby Jr. didn't go quietly

How is it that Cheney's consigliere, faced with an all-out frontal assault from Patrick J. Fitzgerald, didn't simply plead out and go to a country-club prison for a few years for his stipulated crimes?

You know that the White House would prefer to have never seen this parade of witnesses, both past and upcoming this week, spill the beans and the unpleasantness of what really happens when U.S. executive branch sausage is made.

But then, you consider the old question, "Who benefits?"

Remember that interview with a burglar, where he said that the key to protecting major assets is to hide a goodly amount of money in more or less plain sight, so that the thief believes he's achieved his aim and leaves?

I can't help but believe that the Libby trial, with all its headline-grabbing boldface names coming and going and the fireworks on the witness stand as great attorneys whale away at each other via their hapless cross-examinees, is serving as a superb piece of headline chaff, diverting us from much that would be of potentially far greater import should it become public.

But then, I'm just a brain-dead anesthesiologist who's worked in too many unscavenged operating rooms for too many years.

What do I know?