At the end of Benjamin Netanyahu’s first interrogation, his chief of staff entered the room — something that, as is well known, does not happen during police questioning. “Sorry, just a reminder — at 9:45 we have… If you need two or three minutes beforehand,” he said.
The Prime Minister responded: “No, we’re wrapping up here.” The investigator, Koresh Barnur, tried to ask: “In a standard investigation, I’d like to see the items [gifts received from Arnon Milchan — coats, and so on], to document them. Could you allow us that?”
Netanyahu: “I’ll ask my lawyer” [no other suspect is granted such a privilege]. “Yoav [chief of staff Yoav Horowitz], come in for a second. Have we scheduled another session?”
Horowitz: “Not yet.”
Netanyahu: “But this can’t be open-ended forever, you know? I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I’m a bit busy with other things. We have ongoing diplomatic moves…”
The Prime Minister’s questioning was conducted with kid gloves. Investigators were given limited time, the sessions weren’t continuous, and many questions were never asked. After the first session in Case 4000, for example, investigators almost begged Netanyahu for another meeting as soon as possible, estimating they’d need ten more hours. Netanyahu brushed them off, saying that even what he’d already given required “heroic effort.”
And despite the highly favorable conditions, Netanyahu gave a dreadful testimony. He got tangled in many lies. He vehemently claimed he knew nothing about the jewelry Milchan had bought for his wife (“I have no idea,” “completely new to me,” “never heard of it”), despite a mountain of evidence — including a campaign of pressure just four months earlier, in which Netanyahu himself took part — trying to convince Milchan to buy the necklace.
When it came to his conversations with Noni Mozes, Netanyahu shifted versions like Madonna changes outfits. “The conversations weren’t documented, there’s no protocol.” The investigators started pressing. “I didn’t record,” Netanyahu said. The investigators frowned. “Maybe there was an attempt to record,” Netanyahu tried. They told him the conversations were recorded.
“Arie [chief of staff Arie Harow] wanted to record… maybe we talked about it… we saw Noni bring in a device, we thought he was recording,” Netanyahu began to explain. “The device wasn’t on me, that’s for sure…” [It very much was, during the second meeting.] “I recorded it for Judgment Day.”
Then suddenly, he remembered everything and described exactly why and how he recorded it.
His testimony in Case 4000 is nearly worthless. Netanyahu answers every question with “I don’t remember.” Doesn’t remember signing (but he signed everything), doesn’t remember meeting, instructing, or knowing what the “Bezeq–YES deal” even was. His son, according to him, “understands absolutely nothing.” All he tried to do was urge Shaul Elovitch — a “frightened right-winger,” as he called him — to adopt a braver line in favor of the right. That is, in favor of Netanyahu himself.
He never really managed to explain the contradiction between the time and energy he invested in shaping Walla!’s editorial line (even Netanyahu didn’t deny this — he simply claimed it was an unimportant website “about cats and dogs”).
State witness Shlomo Filber lied under orders from Netanyahu’s lawyer, who he claimed was “Eyal Arad’s brother.” Nir Hefetz, whom Netanyahu had praised just one session earlier, was suddenly “a liar.”
Ehud Olmert, who consistently showed up to court and treated the judges with respect, was allowed to open with a lengthy monologue about his biography. Did that help contribute to his acquittal on most charges in that trial? Possibly.
Netanyahu’s direct examination is expected to be an endless spectacle of self-victimization. The big question is whether the judges will allow the prosecution generous time for cross-examination — at least as much as the defense was given when questioning non-defendant witnesses like Ilan Yeshua and Hadas Klein. If so, it’s hard to see how Netanyahu’s testimony will help his case.