"William Jefferson Clinton has undermined the integrity of his office, has brought disrepute on the Presidency, has betrayed his trust as President, and has acted in a manner subversive of the rule of law and justice, to the manifest injury of the people of the United States." --FROM THE ARTICLES OF IMPEACHMENT APPROVED BY THE HOUSE JUDICIARY COMMITTEE
It was around 8 on Thursday night in the White House residence when a small group of advisers quietly started talking about whether it was time for Bill Clinton to grovel again. To their surprise, he was already there: "I've been thinking about this for a couple of days," Clinton said. He had begun scratching out notes about what he would say: not another legal brief--his lawyers had been delivering those all week--but something a little more spiritual, about taking responsibility and accepting punishment and sending the signal that he finally, finally got it.
Some of his aides had something else in mind. They had been listening all week long to the Republican moderates whose votes could save the President from the impeachment that now looks likely to come this week. By Friday, Republican brokers had even fed them some actual lines for him to read, the very script that they thought just might save him--and them--from months of hell. The fence sitters weren't looking for an apology; they were looking for an admission. Say you lied, and we'll let you go free.
The words were simple: "I lied to the American people, and I'm sorry." But Clinton didn't know what to do with them. Maybe they would be enough to redeem him with those members who were prepared to vote to impeach him mainly because he had never seemed genuinely sorry for anything. But maybe they would kill him too. It's a trap, his lawyers warned. Admit that you lied, even once, and they will impeach you, then indict you, and then throw you in jail the first chance they get.
This is what happens in Washington now, where everything is personal, no one trusts anybody, the lines are down and the friendships and history have been replaced by bad blood and grudges. And so by the time he had finished his four minutes in the Rose Garden that afternoon, talking about his wrongdoing and his shame and Ben Franklin and the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam and the whole blue book of his family's pain and his God-given abilities, the power brokers in the Capitol who had been desperate for some help were slamming down their phones. "What was he thinking?" asked one. "He'd have been better off if he'd just got on the plane and left for his Middle East trip." Some in the White House who had started the day feeling sick noted that the President was now 0 for 3: every time he opened his mouth about this subject, he made things worse. The Republican reaction was deadly. "It's like a sniper," said a G.O.P. source. "You only get one shot, and he missed it."
Less than 10 minutes after he finished, the House Judiciary Committee began to vote on the first of four articles of impeachment, each one ending, "Wherefore, William Jefferson Clinton, by such conduct, warrants impeachment and trial, and removal from office and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of honor, trust or profit under the United States."