Narrator: Shortly after his contentious confirmation to the United States Supreme Court, Justice Brett Kavanaugh attended his 35th high school reunion. He returned to the manicured campus of Georgetown Preparatory School, an institution now at the heart of the firestorm that had engulfed his nomination. The atmosphere was fraught with tension. Old classmates navigated awkward conversations, their opinions and recollections divided by the same fault lines that had split the nation. Some offered handshakes and support, while others avoided eye contact, their minds replaying the televised testimony that had captivated and horrified millions. This reunion served as a microcosm of a country grappling with unanswered questions about power, privilege, and the past.

In their book, Confirmation Bias: Inside Washington's War Over the Supreme Court, journalists Robin Pogrebin and Kate Kelly move beyond the political theater to conduct a deep and thorough investigation into this seismic event. They meticulously reconstruct the timeline, interview hundreds of people—many of whom were never heard by the FBI—and uncover new details that challenge the simple narratives pushed by both sides of the political aisle.

Narrator: To understand the allegations, Pogrebin and Kelly argue that one must first understand the world that shaped Brett Kavanaugh. Georgetown Prep in the 1980s was an elite, all-boys Catholic school that preached a mantra of being "Men for Others." It was a place of intense academic rigor and athletic ambition, instilling a powerful work ethic in its students. Kavanaugh thrived in this environment, excelling as a scholar and an athlete.

However, the authors uncover a "seamy side" to this culture. With limited interaction with girls and a lack of meaningful sex education, a casual misogyny festered. This is starkly illustrated by a detail from the 1983 yearbook. A group photo of Kavanaugh and his friends on the football team is captioned "Renate Alumnius." The authors report that this was a cruel inside joke, with the boys boasting about their supposed sexual conquests with a female student from a nearby school named Renate Schroeder. Though Schroeder and Kavanaugh later denied any sexual relationship, the yearbook entry stood as a public testament to a culture where such boasts were considered acceptable. This culture was further fueled by heavy drinking. Kavanaugh was a member of the "100 Keg Club," and a letter he wrote to friends planning "Beach Week" warned neighbors to expect "loud, obnoxious drunks with prolific pukers among us." This backdrop of privilege, pressure, and partying forms the crucial context for the events that would later threaten his career.

Narrator: Decades later and thousands of miles away in California, psychology professor Christine Blasey Ford felt a sense of civic duty as Kavanaugh’s name was floated for the Supreme Court. She held a memory from the summer of 1982 that she had shared with her husband and therapist years earlier. As she recalled, at a small, drunken high school gathering, a teenage Brett Kavanaugh pushed her into a bedroom, pinned her to a bed, and tried to remove her clothing while his friend Mark Judge watched. She remembered Kavanaugh covering her mouth to stifle her screams and, most vividly, the "uproarious laughter" of the two boys as she feared for her life.

Driven by the motto of her own high school, Holton-Arms—"I will find a way or make one"—Ford decided she had to act. Initially, she sought anonymity, contacting her congresswoman, Anna Eshoo, and later Senator Dianne Feinstein. She was terrified of the public spotlight, but as her identity was leaked to the press, she felt she had no choice but to tell her story publicly. Her decision came at an immense personal cost. She and her family were forced to move out of their home after receiving death threats, and she became the subject of a vicious national debate.

Narrator: As Ford’s story broke, another woman from Kavanaugh’s past was grappling with her own memories. Deborah Ramirez, a Yale classmate, alleged that during a drunken party in their freshman year, Kavanaugh exposed himself, thrusting his penis in her face. The incident, she said, left her feeling humiliated and shattered her sense of belonging at the elite university. For years, she bottled up the experience.

Pogrebin and Kelly’s investigation found that Ramirez’s story was not an isolated account of Kavanaugh’s behavior at Yale. Classmates described him as someone who drank heavily, often to the point of being belligerent or incoherent. He was a member of the Delta Kappa Epsilon (DKE) fraternity, a group known for its misogynistic rituals. The authors recount a story from Kavanaugh’s senior year, when he was a member of a secret society nicknamed "Tit and Clit." After a night of heavy drinking, a classmate witnessed an "uncontrollably, incoherently drunk" Kavanaugh smashing the cargo box on the back of his pickup truck for no apparent reason. When confronted, Kavanaugh simply walked away without explanation. These accounts created a portrait of a young man whose behavior when intoxicated was often aggressive and unaccountable, lending credibility to Ramirez's claims.

Narrator: The Senate Judiciary Committee hearing on September 27, 2018, became one of the most dramatic political events in modern American history. Christine Blasey Ford testified first. Speaking in a trembling but steady voice, she appeared as a reluctant witness, stating, "I am here today not because I want to be. I am terrified." Her testimony was seen by many as profoundly credible precisely because of her precision about what she could remember—the laughter—and her honesty about what she could not, such as the exact date or location.

Later that day, Brett Kavanaugh offered his rebuttal. But instead of the calm, judicious temperament expected of a Supreme Court nominee, he delivered a furious, tearful, and intensely partisan defense. He vehemently denied all allegations and accused Democrats of a "calculated and orchestrated political hit." His performance was polarizing. To his supporters, it was the righteous anger of a man falsely accused. To his critics, his aggressive demeanor and his combative exchanges with senators—most notably when he snidely turned a question about blacking out back on Senator Amy Klobuchar—were proof that he lacked the judicial temperament necessary for the nation's highest court.

Narrator: In the wake of the explosive hearing, a handful of undecided senators, led by Republican Jeff Flake, demanded a supplemental FBI investigation before a final vote. However, the investigation that followed was heavily criticized as a political exercise rather than a genuine search for the truth. The White House limited its scope, and the FBI failed to interview dozens of potential witnesses, including Ford and Kavanaugh themselves. Key individuals who tried to provide information to the FBI were ignored.

When the single, confidential report was delivered to the Senate, it was viewed in a secure room under strict limitations. Senators were not allowed to take notes or make copies. Unsurprisingly, the report changed no minds. Republicans declared it found "no corroboration," while Democrats called it incomplete and a sham. Kavanaugh was ultimately confirmed by a razor-thin 50-48 vote. The process left the country more divided than ever, with polls showing that a majority of Americans believed Ford, yet Kavanaugh now sat on the Supreme Court.

Narrator: The most important takeaway from Confirmation Bias is that the battle over Brett Kavanaugh was never truly a search for truth. It was a raw political war where facts became weapons and personal histories were collateral damage. Pogrebin and Kelly conclude that while there is no definitive proof, the accounts of both Christine Blasey Ford and Deborah Ramirez "ring true." They suggest Kavanaugh's heavy drinking as a young man likely led to behavior he cannot, or will not, remember, and that his testimony before the Senate contained clear falsehoods about his past.

The book leaves us with a challenging question that extends far beyond one man's confirmation. When the institutions designed to provide clarity and justice become stages for partisan warfare, how can a nation find common ground? The Kavanaugh confirmation did not just elevate a judge; it exposed a deep fracture in American society and left an indelible scar on the credibility of the Supreme Court itself, forcing us to ask who, if anyone, is watching the watchers.