




Tuesday the hunters answer him in pictures — a photograph of his papers spread across his own floor. Wednesday he sneers back over breakfast: they dumped them there themselves, and photographed their own mess. Saturday night in Pennsylvania he gets his first stage since the raid, two hours to an overflow crowd screaming go longer. Monday morning he names what stings most — his son's rooms, the First Lady's — and that same Labor Day a judge grants him a special master over everything the hunters carried out. It is the first shield that holds.
Readers' Corner
Letters from the readership on Week 377. Pick a pen name — no account needed.
Opening the mailbag…