This week in the saga

Tuesday, Miami: he walks to the motorcade calling it one of the saddest days in the country's history, and the second courthouse motorcade in ten weeks rolls south. In the federal courtroom he is processed like any defendant — fingerprints, no photograph — and the plea to all thirty-seven counts is not guilty. An hour later a little Cuban bakery is singing to him; tomorrow he turns seventy-seven. And at midnight, back north with the speech given and the crowds gone, the vow circles in the dark: they are not coming after me, they are coming after you. The first president ever to stand federally accused — and still, no one has taken his photograph.