Chimpanzees living in the West African savannah have been observed
fashioning deadly spears from sticks and using the tools to hunt small mammals
-- the first routine production of deadly weapons ever observed in animals other
than humans.

The multistep spearmaking practice, documented by researchers in Senegal
who spent years gaining the chimpanzees' trust, adds credence to the idea that
human forebears fashioned similar tools millions of years ago.

Using their hands and teeth, the chimpanzees were repeatedly seen tearing
the side branches off long, straight sticks, peeling back the bark and
sharpening one end. Then, grasping the weapons in a "power grip," they jabbed
them into tree-branch hollows where bush babies -- small, monkeylike mammals --
sleep during the day.

In one case, after repeated stabs, a chimpanzee removed the injured or dead
animal and ate it, the researchers reported in yesterday's online issue of the
journal Current Biology.

"It was really alarming how forceful it was," said lead researcher Jill D.
Pruetz of Iowa State University, adding that it reminded her of the murderous
shower scene in the Alfred Hitchcock movie "Psycho." "It was kind of
scary."

The trial has given Fitzgerald chances to show his well-known mastery of
facts and his expertise at cross-examination.

When Libby's former deputy, John Hannah, testified for the defense on
the overwhelming nature of Libby's job, Hannah said that at the time, Libby was
monitoring al-Qaeda plots, the Iraq war and other national security
threats.

Hannah, who said he was lucky to get a few minutes to talk to Libby, was
supposed to help buttress Libby's argument that he had more important things to
remember when he spoke to investigators than conversations with
reporters.

With two quick questions, Fitzgerald drew Hannah to the week of July 6,
2003, when, the jurors had been told, Libby met for two hours with Times
reporter Judith Miller to complain about Wilson.

"And so, if you look at what was going on . . . if he gave someone an hour
or two during that week, it was something that Mr. Libby thought would be
important, correct?"

Hannah paused, but had to agree: "With regard to me, yes."

Despite his seriousness, Fitzgerald also has shown a sense of humor. He
warned U.S. District Judge Reggie B. Walton that playing an interview from the
"Imus in the Morning" radio show would be problematic because "there's no Imus
exception to the hearsay rule."

Washington lawyers who have dropped in to watch the case say Fitzgerald's
skills were best demonstrated in the tapes played in court of him questioning
Libby before a grand jury. Under relentless questioning, Libby explained over
nearly an hour that he forgot he learned about Plame from Cheney, then believed
he learned it for the first time from NBC's Tim Russert, but recalled that
Cheney did not share classified information. Libby's voice increasingly faded in
strength, as Fitzgerald made him sound more and more illogical.

"And so when Tim Russert had this conversation with you, you didn't
remember that the vice president told you in June that Wilson's wife works at
the CIA," Fitzgerald said, "but when you remembered what you forgot, you
remembered that you learned it in June not to be classified."

He paused, then asked incredulously: "As you sit here today, is that your
testimony under oath?"

Speaking rapidly in order to fit all his facts into the hour allotted to
him, Fitzgerald did not slow his clipped delivery as he came to the most
dramatic statement of the trial. "You just think it's coincidence that Cheney
was writing this?" he asked rhetorically, before answering his own question.
"There is a cloud over the vice president. He wrote on those columns. He had
those meetings. He sent Libby off to the meeting with Judith Miller where Plame
was discussed. That cloud remains because the defendant obstructed justice. That
cloud is there. That cloud is something that we just can't pretend isn't there."

"That cloud" was like the sudden appearance of a thunderhead over the
proceedings and the administration. In no uncertain terms, in his most public
statement, Fitzgerald made clear that he believed that Cheney was the one behind
the crime for which he was prosecuting Libby. It was Cheney who was the boss,
Cheney who gave the orders, and Cheney to whom Libby was the loyal soldier, and
it is Cheney for whom Libby is covering up.

"Madness! Madness! Madness!"

When Pat Fitzgerald got up, thundering those words in mock outrage, he
grabbed all the energy floating about the courtroom like static electricity, and
held it to himself, never to surrender it, save during a brief, late sidebar
we'll get to in a minute. This is not a reflection of my personal
experience: this is my observation of what happened all around me.


I don't quite know how to explain it, other than to say Pat shocked
people. His demeanor throughout the trial had been fairly direct,
occasionaly subtly snarky or self deprecating, but he had not once raised his
voice. . . until that moment. It jarred people. It commanded
attention. Fitzgerald became a one man spontaneous passion machine from
that point on. Yes, there were moments when his voice modulated, but his
intensity never wavered. His command of the details of exhibits, including
exhibit numbers, was unmatched by any other attorney in the case: he
rattled them off like the names of his friends.

All about me, right from the outset of Pat's closing argument, I saw people
begin to look at each other. Furtive, sidelong looks popped out all
over. There I sat just behind the defense table, and I watched the lawyers
sag and share occasional "oh shit" looks. Wells had his forehead resting
on his hand, anchored on the table, remaining virtually immoble
throughout. Junior defense attorneys, unconsciously mirroring his tone,
slumped a bit in their seats the way my fifth grade basketball team used to do
during a serious ass whupping early in the game with three quarters left to
play. Just like my old basketball team, defense attorneys snuck looks at
the clock (when will it be over!?). Libby's brother, who could pass almost
for his doppleganger, put his arm around Scooter's wife. Fitz laid out a
long, proper drubbing, and the jury, most of all, hung on every word and
breath.

I can remember at whiles looking sidelong at Jane or Sidney, and they at
me, especially when Fitz so clearly put Cheney's actions up for all to
see. Whoa. We had not expected Fitz to go that far. No words
passed among us, but we all had that, "Shit, he's really going for it" look in
our eyes. We had all expected Fitzgerald to be the headline maker of the
day, but he exceeded even our expectations, for all the fire and damning content
he laid out.

As well as Marcy kept up with Fitz's rapid fire pace in her live blogging
notes, the notes don't - they can't - capture fully what it was like to be
there, to hear it and see it and see everyone else hearing and seeing it. .
. especially the defense team. This was no Fred Thompson
television lawyer fakery. This was the real deal, immediate, authentic and
vibrant, frankly unlike anything I've ever seen in any film or stage play.
Tonight I'm seeing Richard III at the Shakespeare Theater in DC. I'll let
you know how it compares....

Sometimes Fitz's voice seemed to quaver with righteous fury, other times he
mocked himself, as in the time he went shuffling through his exhibit book and
said to the jury something like, "This is where I pretend to look organized,
shuffling through my papers, and you pretend to believe I actually know what I'm
doing." This got a giggle, not big laughs, but he was not playing for
laughs: he was just being genuine and a bit authentic. The jury was
with him every step of the way, from all I could see.

If Libby is found guilty, investigators are likely to probe further to determine
if Libby devised what they consider a cover story in an effort to shield Cheney.
They want to know whether Cheney might have known about the leaks ahead of time or had even encouraged Libby to provide information to reporters about Plame's CIA status, the same sources said.