PHILIPPE LUC CARTIER, AN INVESTIGATIVE reporter from Le Monde, the Paris newspaper, had spent his career specializing in coverage of terrorism and military-related issues. He was no slouch. As Francine Les Forges covered his qualifications in her direct examination, he acknowledged having been a recent winner of the Fullerton International Prize for Investigative Journalism.
“And what was the subject matter of the investigative article that caused you to win that award?”
“I was covering the supersecret United States Air Force base—flight test center—at Groom Lake, Nevada,” Cartier responded. “It’s more popularly known as ‘Area 51’—and has been kept closed by virtue of consecutive presidential orders for many years.”
Cartier then described how he had spent more than a year investigating the background and formation of the BATCOM unit. He described how it had been assigned “Top Secret Special Access” status within the American government and the Pentagon. That meant, he explained, that documents relating to internal decision-making, missions, and logistics of the unit were probably kept in secured areas, protected by armed guards.
“I first tried to dislodge information regarding BATCOM by making an FOIA request—a freedom-of-information request under American federal law. However, after months of legal wrangling, the government refused access, and an American court upheld that.”
Thus, Cartier explained how he had had to use every investigative technique he had ever learned to try to gain access to the papers and records relating to the decision to initiate BATCOM as a weapon against terrorism.
“What I learned, after months and months of investigation,” the reporter continued, “is that BATCOM was created by the United States government to operate, and I quote, ‘outside the defined operational control of the United States combat forces within the traditional Unified Combatant Commands.’ ”
“Did you ultimately obtain this information through internal documents of the Defense Intelligence Agency that related to the creation of BATCOM?” Les Forges asked.
“I did. Actually, to be precise,” Cartier explained, “I wasn’t sure where the documents had come from. I had received a message from a person who simply identified himself as ‘Deep Source.’ He said he had a memo that laid out the philosophy and strategy for the BATCOM unit.”
“And did you ultimately obtain a copy of that internal memorandum from the Defense Intelligence Agency in the United States government Department of Defense, that outlined what BATCOM was and what it was supposed to do?”
“I did.”
“And let me just ask you this,” the prosecutor said, clearly hoping to ward off preliminary objections, “at the time you received this memo, did you know you were receiving a document that was protected as top secret? In other words, did you intentionally violate any secrecy laws of the United States, that you know of, in receiving this document?”
“Honestly,” the reporter continued, “when I received this memorandum, I was not told that the man giving it to me had any connection at all with the American government. I do not know where he got it. It appears to be authentic. But there are no markings or stamps on this memorandum indicating that it is top secret—or even confidential.”
Will’s cross-examination of Cartier focused on establishing only one fact—that the investigative reporter had been put on the BATCOM scent by prosecutor Les Forges herself. Though this point was not critical legally, it did prove one thing. Les Forges wanted the United States squarely in the dock. And wasn’t too reticent about how she did it.