Bag Man: The Wild Crimes, Audacious Cover-Up, and Spectacular Downfall of a Brazen Crook in the White House

Richardson issues a statement in repudiation of Agnew’s speech, praising Petersen’s “distinguished” service, but the damage is done. Agnew has successfully cast doubt on the system itself. His attorneys double down on the attack, focusing on the leaks and the unnamed sources quoted in the press. The strategy is effective, forcing Richardson and the Baltimore prosecutors to waste valuable time on an internal investigation. In a risky ploy, Agnew’s defense team asks the court to conduct its own investigation of the press. Despite the obvious First Amendment issues with such a request, Judge Walter Hoffman, famously antagonistic toward the press, is appointed to the case. When London asks for permission to depose members of the press and the Justice Department—a totally unprecedented move—Hoffman agrees. Ten reporters are subpoenaed—the “Agnew Ten”—with orders to testify or face jail time. Although London and his team’s tactics successfully muddy the waters for a time, Solicitor General Robert Bork issues his own legal memo echoing the OLC opinion: The DOJ has the right and obligation to continue investigating Agnew, and the vice president is not shielded from prosecution the way the president is. 

Hoffman orders both teams of attorneys to meet him at a “secret” location, a hotel in Virginia, to avoid the press, but when London arrives, the parking lot is swarming with reporters. The meeting takes place regardless, and both sides dig in. The unresolved issue is jail time for Agnew. With time running out—Nixon is “teetering on the edge of his own criminal liability” (201)—and Agnew ever closer to the presidency, Richardson finally concedes that they may have to abandon the demand for jail time in exchange for Agnew’s resignation. The Baltimore prosecutors are irate, but they finally agree under the condition that Richardson makes the deal before the court and the American people. In the end, they all decide to place the good of the country before their own personal sense of justice. Richardson delivers his decision to Agnew’s attorneys and to Judge Hoffman, who orders Agnew to appear in court the next day. Agnew’s attorneys scramble to draft his resignation letter, and Skolnik, Baker, and Liebman rush to submit a full accounting of Agnew’s crimes into the record. As part of the plea deal, he is only publicly charged with a single count of tax evasion.

All relevant documents are delivered in the nick of time, and later that afternoon, both teams of attorneys gather at the courthouse to finally close the book on the case. When Agnew enters the courtroom, Jay Topkis delivers his letter of resignation to Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, and George Beall delivers the prosecution’s single count of tax evasion to the judge. Agnew pleads nolo contendere, meaning that he will accept the consequences of a conviction without admitting guilt. Agnew rises to offer a final statement, never admitting or acknowledging his crimes but rather claiming—much like Nixon will when he resigns—that a prolonged trial would not serve the national interests. In the end, Hoffman sentences Agnew to “a $10,000 fine and three years of unsupervised probation” (213). Despite Agnew’s plea, many in the party stand by him, convinced he has been railroaded by a vengeful opposition.

The timing of Agnew’s resignation is razor-thin; merely ten days after Agnew’s appearance in court, Nixon tries to fire Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox. Richardson refuses to do it, resigning in protest as does his next-in-line, William Ruckelshaus. Finally, the Solicitor General, Robert Bork, agrees to do it. Before the FBI can secure the DOJ’s files, however, Richardson’s assistant, J.T. Smith, sneaks all of his paperwork out of his office and hides it in his attic. That day, the “Saturday Night Massacre,” is deemed by the nightly news “a grave and profound [Constitutional] crisis” (216).

In the years following his resignation, Agnew claims that his motivation for resigning is fear of retaliation from Nixon—including possible assassination. Chief of Staff Alexander Haig responds to Agnew’s claims as “the most preposterous thing I had ever heard of” (222). Ultimately, Agnew’s greatest fear may be an IRS investigation. IRS agents decide to follow the trail of Agnew’s extortion money, and they discover some sordid details, including purchases of jewelry not for his wife and sexual “peccadillos.” Without Nixon’s support, resignation may be the only way to “get the hounds off his back” (224).

On October 15, 1973, Agnew addresses the nation in a live television broadcast. Rather than admit to his crimes or calm his angry supporters, he once again attacks the media for covering the story via leaked information.

For months after his resignation, Agnew still maintains—at taxpayer expense—an office in D.C., a staff, and a Secret Service detail. This is part of a deal struck with Nixon in exchange for resignation. While Agnew enjoys his status and Secret Service protection, taking vacations and working on a suspense novel, it soon comes to the attention of Congress that it is costing taxpayers $45,000 a month to maintain the “disgraced” former vice president’s lifestyle. They “pull the plug” on Agnew’s office and Secret Service detail, leaving him officially on his own.

Agnew’s most pressing concern now is employment. After several failed ventures as an international businessperson, actor, and novelist, Agnew finally writes his memoirs, grinding his axe angrily and in print. While castigating his old enemies—including Nixon—he relates a conversation between himself and his personal attorney, George White. By divulging details of that conversation, Agnew waives his attorney-client privilege, and an activist law professor, John Banzhaf, takes advantage of the slip-up. Determined to force Agnew to repay the extorted money, he and his law students ask Maryland’s governor to file a lawsuit. He refuses and is later also indicted. Banzhaf eventually files suit on behalf of Maryland’s taxpayers citing a centuries-old English law. Finally, in April 1981, Agnew is ordered to pay the state of Maryland $268,482. George White also testifies under oath that Agnew had confessed to his extortion scheme during their conversation. After years of denial and diversion, the truth becomes a matter of public record.

Agnew’s legacy, the authors assert, is a “scorched earth” policy of attack and demonization. He vilifies his enemies and casts doubt on their integrity and motivations, purely as a diversion from his own crimes. Agnew ultimately enjoys some success running a consulting firm which partners international and domestic business concerns, using contacts he made as V.P,). The most egregious deal he strikes is with Saudi Arabia, soliciting them for $2 million to wage a propaganda war “against the Zionist enemies who are destroying my once great nation” (249). His letter concludes by congratulating the Saudi crown prince on his jihad against Israel. The effort recalls years of accusations of anti-Semitism against Agnew for his characterization of Zionist control of the media.

When Nixon dies in 1994, Agnew, who has not spoken with his former boss since resigning, attends Nixon’s funeral, a gesture of reconciliation after 20 years of animosity. Agnew dies two years later on September 17, 1996, having escaped the most severe consequences for his crimes and carving out a comfortable life for himself: He “rarely [has] to travel in circles where his tarnished reputation mattered’” (253).

Another legacy of the Agnew scandal is the official DOJ policy against indicting a sitting president, a policy derived from the original OLC memo authored by Robert Bork. While a later Solicitor General, Walter Dellinger, argues that the Watergate case—United States v. Nixon—claims the exact opposite, the DOJ policy remains intact. In fact, Robert Mueller’s investigation of Donald Trump failed to bring forth an indictment for specifically that policy.

Finally, while Agnew’s crimes have been overshadowed by Watergate—Maddow and Yarvitz argue he deserves to be remembered in “infamy”—the heroic deeds of Richardson, Beall, Skolnik, Baker, and Liebman have also been largely forgotten. Over time, Beall and his assistant attorneys all move on to private practice. Richardson never again reaches the level of career status as attorney general, but his resignation on principle is met with “a thunderous and sustained ovation” (262) from those with whom he serves. Beall dies in January 2017, days before the inauguration of Donald Trump. As a perfect closing of the narrative circle, a memorial to Beall is written by then-Maryland U.S. attorney, Rod Rosenstein, himself a Trump appointee who is then tasked with overseeing the investigation into Trump’s alleged malfeasance.