Long-time contributing editor Jonathan Littman (jonlittman@earthlink.net) has much more on Barry Bonds:

Four years ago I met face to face with three lawmen who told me Jeff Novitzky, the lead investigator in BALCO, had misrepresented key facts in the case. They were outraged by what they saw as gross breaches of standard investigative procedures. They wanted to set the record straight in my upcoming Playboy article.

We met multiple times at a Starbucks not ten miles from the gym where one of them had gone undercover, pumping iron with Bonds’ trainer, Greg Anderson.

Two of them would never have dared meet me if not for my first source, Iran White, the highly regarded undercover man. They didn’t take lightly challenging the veracity of a federal agent. But they were willing to risk their careers to back up White’s allegations of Novitzky’s rule-bending, aggressive tactics.

I stick by my May 2004 Playboy story, Gunning for the Big Guy, which made no bones about what this was about from the beginning – nabbing Barry Bonds for steroid use and cheating at a professional sport. Bonds was always the focal point. Today these three cops stand firm. Forget about steroids. The case against Barry Bonds will likely be won or lost on the deeds, words and integrity of a lone federal agent.

Not a daring DEA drug agent.

Not a solid FBI man with dozens of major busts on his resume.

The protagonist here is the unlikely Jeff Novitzky, an IRS criminal investigator who for most of his career played a back-up role to veterans at other federal agencies.

The final chapter in BALCO will be less about drugs or Bonds’ testimony about what he may have ingested, but about whether one of the greatest black athletes in history was set up. For the last few years, the media has painted Novitzky a hero, the "dogged" investigator in the style of Eliot Ness. In the wake of the indictment they are singing his praises anew. But the prosecution may turn on whether Novitzky's desire to topple Bonds led him to commit the classic rookie blunder—stepping on his fellow cops and the law. For no matter who was implicated in the case, Bonds was always the big fish.

Was this entrapment? As Novitzky relentlessly pursued Bonds, did baseball's white players get a pass while the black star was dealt a bait and switch?

The media frenzy surrounding the Bonds indictment has missed a key fact. The federal prosecutor in San Francisco appears to have failed in his primary goal—to build an iron clad steroids case against the legendary player. Nor did the extreme measure of sending Bonds' trainer to jail succeed in getting him to roll against his former employer. Anderson kept silent and, with the filing of the indictment, by law had to be released.

The government is playing the only card it has left, filing a perjury indictment largely based on circumstantial evidence dating from a four-year-old search of the BALCO labs.

This was not the original plan.

Perjury cases are rare and convictions are difficult. They revolve around the defendant's intent, which has to be proved beyond a reasonable doubt to a jury of twelve San Franciscans. Context counts. In stark opposition to the Bonds’ indictment is the governments’ lack of interest in prosecuting the vast majority of the more than three-dozen athletes called before the BALCO grand jury.

Why?

Many in the media haven’t given a damn. But a jury may. Government conduct and public perceptions matter in a trial. Especially when the race card looms so large. Why did Jason Giambi get a pass?

The government appears to believe evidence gathered in the search will render a conviction. But the public will soon learn just how flimsy that circumstantial evidence may be.

Fairness should be a primary factor in a criminal trial. That is especially true in this belated perjury charge against one of baseball’s greatest heroes. Since the feds gave Bonds immunity against any violation of law with respect to allegations of taking or distributing illegal drugs, why were they asking him about precise time frames—and what he may or may not have known about the ingredients?

More than Bonds' intent will be on trial. Everything Novitzky did or said or wrote in the past half decade will potentially be under the microscope. Every off-hand remark. Every e-mail sent under his name or any pseudonym that can be traced back. Every report he filed. Or didn’t file.

In the courtroom Novitzky will find a strong opponent in defense attorney Michael Rains, another protagonist in this drama I’ve met face to face at length. A bulldog of a former cop, Rains is bent on keeping Bonds out of jail. He’s the man cops all over the state beg to represent them when they're in a pinch. This early in the game, it's hard to say where Rains may slug the most. He’s certain to examine the unusual series of denials that Novitzky filed in federal court. In 2002, when Balco was just a gleam in the then unknown IRS agent's eye, he sought out Iran White, the talented undercover cop, to join Bonds' gym (White began lifting weights with Bond’s trainer in early 2003).  But after White went public with questions about Novitzky's conduct in my 2004 Playboy story, Novitzky sought to discredit White in an affidavit filed in federal court.

Rains may also attack the search warrant Novitzky presented to a federal magistrate. And he’s also likely to challenge potential irregularities in procedure and reporting.   

There is more than one side to every story. Beyond Iran White, there is Mr. X and Mr. Y, the two other cops who played key roles alongside Novitzky in the Balco case. They are big, tough cops. They are not afraid of Novitzky or the feds. They know exactly what Novitzky did and didn't do. What he said. When and where. What he did or did not write in his reports.

This December in San Francisco Barry Bonds and Jeff Novitzky and Michael Rains will enter a San Francisco federal court for round one.

I’ll be there. It’s going to be one hell of a fight.