True Faith and Allegiance Read online

  © 2016 by Alberto R. Gonzales

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Nelson Books, an imprint of Thomas Nelson. Nelson Books and Thomas Nelson are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Any Internet addresses, phone numbers, or company or product information printed in this book are offered as a resource and are not intended in any way to be or to imply an endorsement by Thomas Nelson, nor does Thomas Nelson vouch for the existence, content, or services of these sites, phone numbers, companies, or products beyond the life of this book.

  Scripture quotations marked NIV are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  ISBN 978-0-7180-7888-1 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Gonzales, Alberto R., author.

  Title: True faith and allegiance : a story of service and sacrifice in war and peace / by Alberto R. Gonzales (former White House Counsel and former U.S. Attorney General).

  Description: Nashville, Tennessee : Nelson Books, 2016.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016008306 | ISBN 9780718078874 (hardback)

  Subjects: LCSH: Gonzales, Alberto R. | Attorneys general--United States--Biography. | Political consultants--United States--Biography. | Presidents--United States--Staff--Biography. | Bush, George W. (George Walker), 1946---Friends and associates. | Hispanic Americans--Biography. | United States--Politics and government--2001-2009.

  Classification: LCC KF373.G618 A3 2016 | DDC 340/.092 [B] --dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016008306

  16 17 18 19 20 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To the women in my life who have supported me always: my loving mother, Maria, and my beautiful wife, Rebecca; and to the young men who inspire me: my sons Jared, Graham, and Gabriel.

  CONTENTS

  A Note from the Author

  Prologue

  1. The 911 Experience

  2. Dreaming the Dream

  3. Snow Bird

  4. From a Falcon to an Owl

  5. Crimson Pride

  6. A Party to Call Home

  7. Becoming a Bushie

  8. The Death Cases

  9. Texas Camelot

  10. The Send-Off

  11. West Wing Possibilities

  12. White House Bound

  13. Transition to Power

  14. The Calm Before the Storm

  15. The New Priority: Defeating Terrorism

  16. Battles on the Home Front

  17. The Ultimate Club Fed

  18. Bringing Terrorists to Justice

  19. The British Rebellion

  20. Interrogations for Intelligence

  21. Race to the Courthouse

  22. “Casus Belli”—The Twisted Road to Iraq

  23. Dancing with a Devil

  24. For the Sake of Peace and Security

  25. Listening to the Enemy

  26. Stunting Stellar Wind

  27. Joining Forces with Congress

  28. The Infamous Hospital Visit

  29. Resignation Threats

  30. Get Your Uniform On

  31. Searching for Justice

  32. Money in the Freezer

  33. Wrong Even When Right

  34. Hunting Season

  35. Beware the Ides of March

  36. Too Sad for a Country Song

  37. A Slowly Turning Tide

  38. God Must Have a Sense of Humor

  39. The Price of Service

  Acknowledgments

  Notes

  About the Author

  Index

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Many of the events and details I discuss in these pages are controversial and continue to evoke heated debate. Other individuals who witnessed these same events may have different opinions and recollections, but this book reflects my experiences and contains my perceptions of them.

  This does not constitute an official release of US Government information. All statements of fact, opinion, or analysis expressed herein are those of the author and do not reflect the official positions or views of the US Government. Nothing in the contents of this book should be construed as asserting or implying US Government authentication of information or endorsement of the author’s views.

  PROLOGUE

  JANUARY 23, 2007

  ABOARD A CLANDESTINE GOVERNMENT AIRCRAFT, DESTINED FOR LOCATIONS UNKNOWN

  Every year, as part of the country’s continuity-in-government plan designed to ensure the survival of at least one person in the line of presidential succession in case of a catastrophic event at the Capitol, one cabinet member is asked to be absent from the president’s State of the Union address. In 2007, I was the designated survivor.

  This designation required that I spend the evening on a large government airplane. Although the aircraft did not have all the comforts and technology of Air Force One, it was equipped to serve as a flying command center. A senior member of every major federal department and agency accompanied me, each carrying thick binders laying out protocols and classified procedures to advise me in the event I assumed the presidency following a disaster in Washington.

  As we departed for places unknown to me, I received a series of classified operational briefings and then I settled in to watch the State of the Union address on a large monitor aboard the plane. As I listened to President George W. Bush addressing the nation, I felt for the first time the full weight of the consequences (as unlikely as they were) of a catastrophic attack. I glanced around the plane at the individuals who would become part of my new team should the unthinkable occur. I wondered momentarily if we would be up to the job of governing a wounded nation in the face of such a horrific nightmare—questions I suspect were shared by every cabinet official before and after me in that position.

  As soon as the president concluded his speech and left the Capitol, our plane returned to Andrews Air Force Base. I stood atop the stairs for a moment before deplaning and breathed a sigh of relief. My duty now discharged, I had a whole new appreciation for the person serving as president of the United States.

  CHAPTER 1

  THE 911 EXPERIENCE

  Where were you on September 11, 2001? Ask almost anyone in America who was old enough to remember, and he or she will be able to tell you. It was a day none of us will ever forget.

  I awakened early that Tuesday morning and left home around 5:45 a.m., heading to Dulles Airport in northern Virginia, about a twenty-minute drive out of Washington, for a flight to Norfolk, Virginia. I was running late—unusual for me—so I was rushing. But as I was soon to discover, everything about that day would be unusual, except for the fact that it was a crisp, clear, blue-sky morning in America’s capital. In front of the airlines’ check-in counters, I met Robert Cobb, the White House ethics lawyer on my staff, affectionately known as Moose. A fine lawyer, as well as a strong, competitive athlete with a wry sense of humor, Moose was a good traveling companion.

  We boarded United Airlines flight 7223, which
was scheduled to take off at 7:20 a.m. As I settled into my seat, I flipped through my speech notes and a White House briefing book outlining my planned events for that day. The speech in Norfolk to a group of government ethics lawyers was merely one segment of a full day of events and meetings. Moose and I were booked to return at 1:00 p.m. Later that afternoon, I was slated to meet with Catholic Hispanic leaders back at the White House, then sit in on another high-level meeting regarding national security; the topic for the afternoon meeting was concerns over Russia and Iran.

  After that, I was scheduled to meet with Democratic senators Carl Levin and Deborah Stabenow at the Russell Senate Office Building to discuss Sixth Circuit federal judges from Michigan. Late afternoon, I was to attend a congressional barbeque on the South Lawn. My role was to mingle with members of Congress, hopefully currying favor and goodwill with the legislative branch. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes for a few moments. Just another typical day at the White House, I thought.

  I had no idea.

  Moose and I arrived at the Norfolk Waterside Marriott about fifteen minutes prior to my nine o’clock presentation. Officials from the Office of Government Ethics, hosts for the conference, greeted us amiably. As we walked to the hotel ballroom where I was to speak, I received a cell phone call from my longtime assistant, Libby Camp, who was back in Washington. Libby informed me that an airplane had crashed into one of the towers at the World Trade Center in New York. She urged me to get to a television set. Libby was calm, but I could sense a hint of concern in her voice.

  In a conference room just off the platform, Moose found a television, and the two of us stared intently at the news coverage of what looked initially like a horrible accident. Reporters speculated that a commuter plane had crashed into the North Tower at 8:46 a.m. Looking at the images on the television, I thought, How could an accident like that happen on such a clear day? Something didn’t seem right.

  It was time for me to speak to the conference attendees so I tried to focus on the audience in front of me. I had no idea that three minutes after I began to speak, another plane, United flight 175, slammed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center. I delivered a relatively short speech and then hustled back to the conference room with the television. The screen filled with aerial shots from a helicopter of the World Trade Center, now with both towers ablaze, confirming my worst fears—this was not a tragic accident; it was overt, insidious terrorism. My stomach tightened and I was momentarily stunned, but this was no time for an emotional response. Indeed, at that moment my first response was not emotional at all; I knew the president was in Florida, but there would soon be many complex legal decisions to be made. I felt compelled to get back to work, back to the White House; I knew I would have an important job to do, and I needed to be there, so I focused on that.

  I immediately called Libby. “Get me on the next flight to Washington,” I said.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best, sir,” she answered professionally, barely masking the tenseness in her voice.

  Moose hailed a taxi and we instructed the cabbie to get us to the airport as quickly as possible. As the taxi raced through the streets of downtown Norfolk, I reached my deputy, Tim Flanigan, on the phone. Tim was already in the White House Situation Room—a relatively small but highly secure room on the basement level of the West Wing.

  “What’s going on there, Tim?”

  He had few details other than the obvious. These were acts of terrorism, and it was believed that al-Qaeda was responsible. President Bush had been in an elementary school in Florida reading to a group of children at the time of the attacks. He was safe and was already on the move—somewhere. Nobody knew if other hijacked aircraft were still in the air or if there were other targets.

  There were.

  In the fog of such momentous and unprecedented events, when split-second decisions had to be made despite the potential of enormous ramifications, I knew it would be easy to forget protocol, legal authorities, or even logic, leading in the heat of the moment to potential violations of the law. “Tim, listen to me carefully,” I said, expecting that our phone connection could be cut off at any moment. “Make sure all major decisions include guidance from the lawyers.” At that moment, I didn’t know what sort of decisions were in the works, and my mind raced, thinking of the possibilities—whether, for instance, we would have to commandeer certain private resources, such as buses or medical facilities. What if there were terrorist commandoes already on the grounds of the US Capitol or the White House? What legal tools did the president need to deal with attacks upon our citizens, or to have to shoot a passenger jet out of the sky if it were headed toward a nuclear facility or other strategic site? Every decision had to be considered from a legal standpoint as well as concerns for protecting our nation.

  A few moments after I hung up with Tim, Libby called back. “Judge Gonzales, the FAA is beginning to shut down all airports and restricting air travel all around the country. Right now there are no guarantees about getting you a flight back to Washington.”

  “Okay, Libby,” I said, my mind already considering alternative methods of transportation.

  “And Judge, they say that the volume of cell phone calls is overloading the system, so you may not be able to use your phone much longer.”

  “Okay, thank you, Libby.”

  “Judge, one more thing,” she said calmly. “The Secret Service has ordered an evacuation of the White House. I have to get off this phone.”

  “I understand.” We hung up, and I didn’t hear from Libby again that morning. The Secret Service’s precautions were valid. Reports later confirmed that at 9:34 a.m., officials at Reagan National Airport had informed the Secret Service that an unidentified aircraft was streaking through the skies above Pennsylvania, rapidly heading in the direction of Washington, DC.

  Near the Norfolk airport by now, my mind raced again through the possible legal authorities the president might exercise to protect America, such as declaring a state of national emergency, restricting travel, taking control of certain industries, and federalizing National Guard troops.

  Meanwhile, my wife, Becky, was frantically trying to reach me. Since my trip that morning was a quick jaunt to Norfolk and back, I had not even told her where I was going. Now, on that frightening morning, she simply knew that I had flown out of Dulles Airport. She did not know any of my flight information or my destination. Eventually she reached Libby, who reassured her that I had not been aboard any hijacked aircraft and had arrived safely in Norfolk. Getting home was another matter.

  With no information other than what she could glean from television reports and a hurried conversation with Libby, and fearful of another attack, Becky wanted our boys with her. She contacted our oldest son, Jared, who had just started at Emerson College in Boston, making sure he was okay. Then she raced to Spring Hill Elementary to pull our two younger sons, Graham and Gabriel, out of school.

  The principal asked Becky to reconsider. She suggested that taking Graham and Gabriel out of the school might signal to other parents that because of my White House connection we knew more than other families. The principal didn’t want people to panic.

  Becky’s maternal instincts trumped the principal’s request. She picked up our boys and drove them to a neighbor’s house where our sons and the neighbor’s children took refuge in the basement, practicing putting sofa cushions over their heads in the event of another attack. Cell phones were out of service by now so Becky continued trying to reach me on our office landline to no avail.

  At the Norfolk airport, Moose and I rushed toward our gate, the sounds of our footsteps echoing through the corridor. We passed long lines of stranded passengers, as well as groups of strangers huddled together in the terminal, some crying, others silently staring at the horrific images on the television monitors. The whole place was eerily quiet, with no blaring announcements of flights boarding or gate changes.

  The gate attendant saw us coming as Moose and I ran toward her
. Before we could utter a word, she shook her head and said, “All flights are canceled.” On a nearby television screen, I saw staffers streaming out of the White House gates. On the split screen, shaken journalists were doing their best to describe the mounting calamity, with reports confirming that the Pentagon was now on fire following the third hijacking that crashed American flight 77 into the side of the Defense Department’s headquarters at 9:37 a.m. In New York, unwitting cameramen caught images of people falling or jumping to their deaths from the burning floors of the Twin Towers. An unconfirmed report—that later turned out to be false—said that another plane had hit the State Department.

  Dear God, I thought. What is happening?

  I quickly surveyed our surroundings in the terminal, wondering what to do, where to go. I could no longer reach anyone in the White House—a frightening fact in itself—and I had no idea how we might get home. I felt strongly that I needed to be at my post, that I needed to be at the White House when the commander in chief returned. Moose and I decided to rent a car and drive to Washington, if there were any cars still available. As we headed toward the rental car desks, I finally made contact with Tim in the Situation Room. He confirmed that two commercial airliners had crashed into the World Trade Center, decimating both the North and South Towers, with untold numbers of people killed or stranded inside early in the workday. A third plane had been flown into the Pentagon, and yet another plane, United flight 93, apparently had crashed near Somerset, Pennsylvania. Tim wasn’t sure, but he feared thousands of people might have been killed in a matter of minutes. He did not know where President Bush was located, but he knew that the president had wanted to return to the White House and had been cautioned against it by Vice President Cheney as well as National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice.

  “We’re going to try to rent a car and drive back,” I told Tim. I felt more confident knowing that Tim was there at the White House. He was mature and level-headed. As a former senior Justice Department official, I knew he would make sure the right legal questions were being asked, and I trusted his judgment.