The Chosen (20 page)

“Suppose that all of the detainees originated in three states
.
” Julian pursued the argument, “That would be a total of 166.6 defendants per state. That
number is
still not
sufficient
to
cause a
log jam
in
the federal court system for the next several years.
Furthermore,
if some of the defendants
choose to enter guilty pleas in exchange for leniency, those
cases would not have to be tried. The government’s math just does not hold up.”

“I would be interested to see how the
f
ederal court system would try
six/tenths
of a defendant,” Justice Dillon responded
,
and the observers laughed, “But as to the plaintiff’s point, can you tell us what the regional concentration of the defendants is? Are we talking about one state or five or twenty five?”

“I do not have that information here with me today,” responded Greely.
“
However,
Mr. Cicchetti’s numbers do not work. We are not talking about three states with 166.6 defendants per state.”

“What are we talking about? Because even if all five hundred came from the same
street
,
in the same county
,
in the
same st
ate
, the
federal c
ourt system should be able to accommodate trials for
five hundred
people,” Dillon persisted.

“I
…
”
Greely was
becomi
ng rattled now. He had not
anticipated
this line of questioning
,
and he was not prepared for it. “I don’t have an exact number with me at this time.  But I can tell you that there are more than five hundred persons currently confined under section 1021.”

“How many more?” asked Dillon directly,

“The actual number, wh
ich I do not have with me today…
” Greely paused to collect his thoughts, “The actual number is a matter of National Security. But I can say for a certainty that it
is considerably more than five hundred
people.”

“Considerably more?” repeated the Chief Justice.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And you can’t give this C
ourt a rough idea of how many more?”

“No
,
You
r
Honor
, I cannot.
  But I can say that trials in f
eder
al
c
ourt would be prohibitively
expensive.”

Julian tried not to change expression
s
,
but even Kris could see the triumphant look on his face as Greely visibly turned red.  He had forced the Solicitor General to admit that the Adm
inistration’s numbers were lies.  Now he was ready to make his final point.

“
How can the government ask this C
ourt to put a price tag on liberty? The Solicitor General maintains that the cost of trials for the accused is prohibitively expensive. What is the cost to our country of having an undetermined number of people indefinitely detained for months or years without the benefit of a trial?  What is the cost to our way of life, to the liberties that men and women have fought
and died for?  I submit to the C
ourt that whatever the financial burdens imposed by trials, the price of
not
affording trials with legal representation to these detainees, whatever their number, is prohibitively expensive and is too great a price
for our citizens
to pay.”

That concluded the oral arguments. The Chief Justice adjourned the
C
ourt and within minutes Kris and Keith were outside
with Julian
on the snow-covered Capitol lawn. “Did you see the look on
Greely
’s face?” Julian gloated. “Months of running around telling the American people that the number is
in
the low 100’s
and today he had to finally admit it’s not true.  This is the first step—getting the truth out in front of the public.”

Kris stood with her hands pulled up inside her coat.  The high for the day was
supposed to be
twenty
degrees
,
and she suspected that th
e high
temperature had already come and gone
,
as it was colder now than it
had been
when they
had entered
the building. “How do you think it went?”

“I think it went well,” Julian answered. “We presented a strong case; the Justices asked good questions. There is a lot of interest
, but I can guarantee
you
that
what happened at the end was the most important thing that could have happened today. We have no way of demonstrating that the government is lying about the guilt of the detainees, but if we can demonstrate that they are lying about the number of detainees
,
we can cast doubt on the entire case. Getting
Greely
to admit that he is not being honest about the numbers is huge. That could be enough to win this for us.”

“I hope so; I really, really hope so. When will we know?”
Kris
was stamping her feet to stave off the numbness in her toes.

“Legally the C
ourt has between now and the end of June to rule on the case. They could take every day of that
,
but they probably won’t since there are no cases ahead of
us
.  They
’
ll let us know when they
’
re ready to hand down their decision, and as soon as I hear
,
I
’
ll let you know.  I probably won’t have much advance warning
,
so try to stay by
your
phone as much as possible.  The minute we hear anything, I’ll have Anne call you.”

Chapter
2
6

P
resident Quincy had called his Chief of Staff into a private meeting. Quincy had known Harry Jeffords since they were in elementary school, and he was well aware that Jeffords was the one person he could trust. Quincy thought that it was ironic that one of the most corrupt men in Washington was also the one man whom he knew absolutely would not betray him. Quincy and Jeffords had enjoyed a peculiar relationship from the time that they were children. Quincy had always been the leader and Jeffords his loyal follower. It was not that Jeffords had genuinely admired Quincy at any juncture of their
relation
ship; he clearly did not. Rather, their relationship was of a symbiotic nature. Quincy had wanted someone who would clean up his messes when he was in trouble, act as a sounding board for his ideas, and do anything he asked without stopping to consider the consequences.

Jeffords had always been that person. At various times he had served as scapegoat, confessor, and whipping boy for Quincy. It had never occurred to Jeffords to object; he knew that if he had not hitched his star to Quincy, he would have been practicing law in some hick town in the mid-west, and he had never regretted his decision.

As the two men sat sipping their beers the President began to lay out his plans. “Tomorrow the Supreme Court will hand down their decision,” he began, “I want you to be ready to act the moment that decision is read.”

“How do you think it will go?” Jeffords asked.

“I know how it’ll go,” Quincy responded. “They’ll rule in our favor. I have it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Dillon?” Jeffords was surprised that the Chief Justice would tell even the president how the Court was going to rule.

“Don’t look so shocked. He’s had
almost four
years to ponder what life is like for the ex-Chief Justice of the ex-Supreme Court. He wants to be back on the bench permanently.”

“So, you want the Supreme Court Building re-opened tomorrow? I think we’ll have to take a few days so that we can make the case that we’ve completed all the clean-up.”

“Not even close,” Quincy replied. “As soon as all nine Justices have arrived at the Capitol, dispatch a team of agents with arrest warrants to each of their homes. When they return, they are to be arrested as domestic terrorists under the law that they have just upheld.”

“Wow!” Jeffords exclaimed. “That’s an awful lot for one afternoon. Do you think you can get away with it?”

“Get away with it?” Quincy
snapped.
“I will just have been given permission. But that’s only the beginning. At the same time that the Justices are taken into custody, Vice President Peters is to be arrested. Bubba will make certain that she’s in her office with the two of them watching the proceedings on closed-circuit television.”

“Bubba’s in on it?” Jeffords asked doubtfully.

“Trust me, he can’t wait!”

Jeffords sat silently staring at the rim of his beer bottle. Traces of a smile played around his mouth. He had to hand it to Quincy; he was all guts.

The President interrupted Jeffords’ thoughts, “I have one more thing for you to do tomorrow. Put out a press release that after extensive efforts from our best bomb experts, it has been concluded that the explosives in the Supreme Court Building were wired into it in such a manner that it would be impossible to remove them safely. Therefore, the streets in the immediate vicinity will be closed to all traffic, and all government buildings within a mile radius of the Supreme Court Building will be closed for one week while a team of experts demolishes it with a controlled implosion. Make sure that it makes the evening news.”

“Tom, really?” Jeffords’ expression had turned to one of disbelief. “When you appoint the new Justices, where will they meet?”

“Wake up, Harry!  There aren’t going to be any new Justices; there isn’t going to be any new S
upreme Court Building.
This idea of three coequal branches of government is a bunch of bull! Tomorrow the Supreme Court is going away—forever. Next, I’ll deal with the Congress; I’ll wait a few weeks, of course, but they’re next. I’ll get rid of the Senate and the House of Representatives in the same week. Then there will be only one branch of government—me.

“
But, to get back to current matters, you see to it that the nine Justices are dead within twenty-four hours of their arrests. Then I want that building flattened and every trace of it hauled away—absolutely nothing is to remain. The Supreme Court Building is a reminder of a form of government whose time has come and gone. I want people to forget all about that checks and balances propaganda. Before the year is out the Thomas L. Quincy memorial will stand on that spot to remind
all Americans that I alone am their leader
,
and I share my power with no one!”

C
hapter
2
7

O
n the first day of April, Kris and Keith finally
received
the call they had been waiting for from Julian’s office.
“We have confirmation that the C
ourt
will
hand down
its ruling tomorrow.
Julian needs to see you here in his office this afterno
on.”

Two hours later, they sat tensely in Julian’s office waiting for him. As Kris looked around she recalled vividly the first time that she had entered this o
ffice nine months
before. So much had happened—so much had changed since that initial meeting.  For the first time since going to work for FMPD, she really believed that the country might actually change—that people might actually be listening.  For the first time in years, Americans appeared to have a different perspective about the need to reign in federal power, about the need to restore constitutional government.
The Line
U
p
had stirred powerful emotions across the country and Kris’ national interviews had made the issue of indefinite detention the topic of conversation in nearly every household in the country.

At the end of the day, however, none of
that mattered if tomorrow the C
ourt upheld the law’s constitutionality. After so many months of praying and working, she now had to face the reality that while public opinion might be overwhelmingly in favor of overturning this law, the publ
ic was not making the decision.
Rather, nine men and women appointed to the
C
ourt over the years by various presidents representing varying political views, parties
,
and administrations were going to decide this matter. Their decision was as final as their lifetime appointment
s
to the
C
ourt.

Kris
tried not to appear nervous as she sat
facing
Julian.  She glanced over at Keith—normally she could ga
u
ge his moods by his expressions but this day she could not get a sense
o
f what he was feeling or thinking. He sat quietly with his arm draped over the back of his chair watching Julian and listening carefully to every word the attorney spoke as
he
explained the process.

“Normally, the Court just releases its ruling, but in this case, they are going to appear in the
c
ourtroom
where
the Chief Justice
will
read the majority opinion. After he
ha
s finished, the dissenting opinion will be read by its author. The ruling is being handed down at 10:00 A.M. tomorrow—they just sent word to us at noon today
,
and I had Anne call as soon as we found
out
. You need to be in the courtroom tomorrow when the ruling is being read—I will be there too
, of course
.”

“What is the significance of the Chief Justice reading the
opinion
, rather than just releasing it?” Keith inquired.

“None whatsoever, as far as I know, except that he wants to
prolong
his fifteen minutes of
fame
,” Julian responded. “The
Justices
used to be nine of the most powerful people in the United States, and now they
’
re just regulars in somebody’s golf game. I think they want to remind the world
that they still matter by presenting their findings on television. At least no one can say that the
C
ourt is archaic.”

Kris cautiously asked the question that was foremost on her mind, “How do you think this is going to go?”

Julian sighed and answer
ed
carefully, “To be completely honest, I don’t know. I fe
el
good about our arguments. We argued that the NDAA is a viol
ation of the F
ifth and
S
ixth amendments of the Constitution. It
is
a violation of the Constitution, so we have both the law and the facts on our side.  The problem, of course, is going to be that the Administration has claimed wartime powers and also that at least some of the
Ju
stices on the high court believe that the Constitution is an archaic, outdated piece of Americana that should not be the final test for our laws.
T
hat’s the challenge. We presented a good case—if they rule strictly on the merits of our case and the constitutionality of the law there is no question that we will win. However, just because we are right in no way guarantees that we will prevail.”

Kris
had watched
Julian
while he talked
,
and although he answered carefully she sensed an overall pessimism in his tone, as if he were pretty sure
that
they had lost. She wondered if it were her imagination or if he did not anticipate a win. Perhaps he sensed this as he responded to it in his next statement.

“Look, Kris. We always knew that there was a risk—a huge risk.  But we presented a good argument to the Court.  It’s in their hands now.”

“I think we’re all in God’s hands now, Julian. I have never asked this before. What will happen to you if this goes badly tomorrow?”

“Oh, probably the same thing that will happen to you.  But the truth is
,
in the end
,
it would have happened anyway
. I
f
I
’
m arrested tomorrow at least it
will be
for doing something that matters. We can’t control the outcome, but we can say that when our country was in the most danger, we stood for freedom.  Ultimately, that
’
s the only thing that anyone can do themselves or
can ask of another human being.
No matter what happens tomorrow, I will never regret taking this case. No matter what happens, I am glad that I was able to share your story and your husband’s story with the
American people
.  And I want you to remember that no matter what happens, because of what we have done here, Americans now know the truth—whether or not they choose to allow that truth to change the country.”

“Thank you,”
Kris
stood to go, “for your honesty and for all of your
hard
work, Mr. Cicchetti.  Without you we would have never come this far, and no matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know that I am extremely grateful to you.”

Neither she nor Keith spoke on their
drive
back to Baltimore. A breeze was blowing
,
and she could see dark clouds forming overhead that seemed to her to be an ominous portent of
things to come
.  When they reached the house
, she said to Keith,
“I can’t
just
sit around here.  I’ll go crazy. I’m going to go for a walk.”

“You can’t go for a walk
in this neighborhood
,” he remonstrated. “It’s way too dangerous.”

“I know; I could get killed,” she smiled at him a little as she went out the door. He watched her go and then flopped dejectedly onto the couch. Just as he did so his phone rang signaling a text message.

The incoming name and number were blocked but he guessed the sender when he read the text:  “GO TO THE BASEMENT
NOW
.”

“Why?” he asked himself as he made his way down.  Keith had not used the tunnel since the last time he had seen David.  There had been no need to since he was not allowed to have contact with Jessie and Kyle. Once, in the middle of the night, he had driven past
the place
where Jessie and Kyle had been living to see that
the windows were
boarded up and
the doors were
locked.  He
had no idea
where they were
;
he had no
t had
contact with them for months.

David was waiting for him.

“Long time no see,” Keith greeted him.

“
If
they’re going to have any chance of survival,
Jessie and Kyle have to get out of here tonight.”

“I don’t know where
they
are.  I haven’t seen either one of them since the
three of us met together in this room
.”

“I know where they are,” David responded.  “They
’
re about five miles from here. I have a vehicle parked up the street. Same as last time. Leave here through the tunnel. I
’
ll start the car for you and you
’
ll drive it
to the address that I
’
ll give you. They have to leave tonight to make it over the Canadian border before dawn.  Make sure that all traces of everything they
’
ve been doing
are
destroyed.  Wipe out the laptops and then throw them into the harbor—the water will finish
destroying
anything that
’
s left.  Tell Jessie he has to completely shut down his networks—he can’t leave any trace of anything, including TruthTrakker.”

David handed him an envelope, “Inside you will find their address along with new passports and IDs.  They can start a new life away from all of this.”

Keith opened the envelope. 
It contained
passports with current photos verifying that Jessie and Kyle were Canadian citize
ns.  There were Canadian driver
s
’
licenses and valid Canadian Social Insurance numbers. Jessie of the no last
name would henceforth be known in Canada as “Buck Johnson,” and Kyle was about to
be
reborn as “Roy Dillow.” He surveyed each set of documents while keeping one eye on David. Who was this guy?

After he had reviewed the documents for Jessie and Kyle,
Keith
reached his hand back into the envelope to produce one more set of documents for someone named “Travis Carter.” He was startled to find his own picture staring back at him on the passport, and he looked
at
David for an explanation.

“There
’
s still time for you to get out. After you throw out the laptops, head north. The Feds w
o
n
’
t be expecting you to try to get out before the ruling.  You can use these documents to cross the Canadian border. After you cross, keep going. Even if you win tomorrow, don’t come back.”

“What about Kris?” Keith held the passport in one hand and patted it gently with the other.

“There’s nothing I can do for her. She has to show up tomorrow; she has to be in court to hear the ruling.  If she were to disappear now it would
trigger
an instant manhunt that would risk all of you being captured.  Kris
has made her decision. If the C
ourt rules in her favor, she
’
ll get her life back; if not she’s already as good as dead.  But you still have a choice. You can live through this.  You’re holding
in your hand
a literal
‘
get of jail free card.
’
  Use it.”

With those words David
stepped
back into the tunnel, leaving Keith alone in the basement holding his own exit strategy as well as Jessie’s and Kyle’s.

He stood
thinking for
what felt like a long time.  Of course
,
he would help Jessie and Kyle. He had to—he
had gotten them into this mess.
But should he go himself?  He had secretly wished a thousand times that
he had never gotten into
this predicament
in the first place. He had wished an equal n
umber of times that he could wa
ve his hand and make
it
all disappear. If only there were an easy way out.  Now there was—all he had to do was drive away and keep driving. After all, it wasn’t his fault that his parents had died; it wasn’t his fault that Kris had fallen in love with Mi
k
e. It wasn’t his fault that Mike and Jeff had gotten arrested or that Kris had decided to die trying to
free
them. None of it was his fault. David was right—he had done
everything
that he could.

And yet, he could not fight off the tremendous sense of loss and sadness. Kris was the last remaining person who was really
a
part of his life
. They had spent the last three years
together.
When he left tomorrow, s
he would be all alone.  She would be arrested alone
,
and she would never know what had happened to him. Probably she would assume
that
he had been arrested too; she would probably never realize that he had escaped. It would be better that way—for her not to know that he had left without her.