This is a good article about how Judge found out about the accusation by Christine Blahdy Ford.
'They Were Relentless': How I Learned Respect for Our Communist Media | The Stream
Because I know that most reporters are no different from the old Soviets at Pravda, I knew that they were working from a large file of oppo research. It had been worked on for weeks, if not months or even years.
There would be more stories that were all already written. Still, even I couldn’t believe it when the media and the members of the United States Senate began trying to decipher jargon from my high school yearbook. Their goal? To prove that Brett and I had, I don’t know, drunk some beers when we were teenagers. If I contradicted the media narrative, the press would simply edit whatever I said to fit the narrative.
There was only one problem: I wouldn’t play along. I gave one interview to The New York Times, lengthily pointing out that I simply had no recollection of what Ford was talking about. I told them that the Brett Kavanaugh I knew in high school was a good friend and decent guy. He was interested in sports. Even that one interview may not have been advisable, I know.
That 3 a.m. Knock on the Door
At one point during the most chaotic point of the Kavanaugh episode, I decamped from Washington. I spent a couple days at a friend’s beach house on the Eastern Shore to try and regain a little sanity. One night at about 3 a.m., there was a loud knock on the door. Here it was, the moment you always hear about in novels like Darkness At Noon, or memoirs like Ciszek’s. The totalitarians were pounding on my door in the middle of the night.
I didn’t answer, of course.
~~~
You don’t have to like these facts. (In fact, you shouldn’t.) But you must respect reality. The reporter who has just called you with a list of personal questions might be a goofball — or a trained and skilled interrogator. Assume, to be on the safe side, that he is very likely a deeply damaged, ideologically obsessed and angry human being. One who cares nothing about you, fairness, or even your life. Just like the Russians who tortured Fr. Ciszek.
The Story Was Written Before They Even Contacted You....