Marcus Aurelius at Blogger Beer raises the issue of HIPAA (the law that gives you the absolute right to keep your hang nail to yourself!) with respect to Mr. Whittington's condition. This wouldn't apply to the fact of the shooting and it wouldn't apply to otherwise confidential information that is released to a non-health care provider (like Scott McClellan), but it does suggest that there is cause, at least by the spirit if not the letter of the law, for some circumspection about Mr. Whittingon's condition.
True story: Last year my wife goes in for a cervical spine fusion. Hardly a mark of shame. She was a figure skater well into her 30s, but she's open about it. She warns young girls that even Dorothy Hamill wound up with an Ibuprofen jones. Anyway, our priest is nice enough to come to the hospital to say a few prayers and wish her well. But she arrives before we do, so she goes up to the information desk and asks for the Reddess of Roscommon (well, not exactly, but in substance). So here is a woman in a frickin' clerical collar asking for a patient about to have neck surgery. You don't need a translator to figure out what that's about. I kind of doubt she's trolling for new members. But the info desk refuses to tell her if KFM has arrived. HIPAA, you know.
So we're now supposed to see Whittington's cardiac cath screen on the internet. And within no more than 15 minutes, please. Give me a break.