Some of the worst issues with the Bush 43 administration, as I originally remembered it, didn't surface, because I had changed things too much. We never went into Iraq and Afghanistan, so we simply didn't have those scandals. We had also been much lower key on our implementation of the PATRIOT Act, and weren't sending people to Guantanamo or torturing people or doing military tribunals. It's rare that you get in trouble by not doing something.
This mess, on the other hand, had massive potential to get sloppy! I could envision several outcomes, none of them pleasant. For one thing, the Secret Service was under the control of the Treasury Department. Elizabeth Warren was the unpopular bank regulator in charge of Treasury, so any scandal with the Secret Service was going to be on her hands. I could foresee any number of calls for her head. I was sure she would survive, but be politically weakened. Ralph Basham was already a dead man walking. There was probably going to be a large scale investigation into the Secret Service, probably tying in last year's botched assassination attempt, and anything else they could scrape up – and they could always scrape something up if they looked hard enough!
This was definitely going to weaken me, as well. I was going to have to protect Warren, for one thing. Fire her and I look petty and weak, keep her and I look stubborn and obstinate. Marilyn was going to be all over the news. Just wait until somebody in Congress decided to subpoena her to testify at hearings! She wasn't employed here, so I doubted I could even claim Executive Privilege. Harry Reid was still smarting from when I rammed a bunch of recess appointments down his throat, so he would be gunning for me. Max Baucus was the chairman of the Senate Finance Committee (they oversaw Treasury), and while he and I didn't have any personal issues, when Harry Reid decided to have him chew on me, Max would obey orders.
My morning staff meeting was the Marilyn Show, all Marilyn, nothing but Marilyn. The confrontation had taken place too late in the day to be on the evening late night comedy shows, but had certainly made the news, and was already running nonstop on the morning news shows. By tonight, with 24 hours of lead time, the comedy shows would have more than enough time to do this up proper. Worst of all, Senate Democrats were lining up to castigate me, the Secret Service, me, the Treasury, me, Allegheny County, me, Pittsburgh, me, Marilyn, and me. The only people not talking were Marilyn, Fred Phelps, and the Westboro Baptist Church, simply because they were all still in jail. Even the cops were keeping silent; I was guessing that somebody from the Chief of Police's office had put the fear of God in them. I knew that wouldn't last long.
At nine, the phone rang, interrupting the meeting, and the voice on the speakerphone told me to pick it up. I shrugged at the others and grabbed the phone. It was the voice of Paul D'Agosta. "Mister President, I have somebody who wants to talk to you."
"Carling!? You there?"
"Hi, honey. What's happening? You still in jail?"
"No.", she answered. "I'm back at the Hyatt. I was just released."
"You sound good." I decided to lay off the jokes until I could see her in person. "What happened?"
"Here, talk to Mr. D'Agosta."
The phone fumbled as she passed it along. The others – Frank, Will, and Mindy – moved to leave, but I waved them back into position. Whatever I learned, they would need to know. This was no longer a family matter. "Mister President?", comes over the phone.
"Mister D'Agosta. I gather my wife is freed from durance vile. Thank you for that. What's going on out there?"
"Yes, sir. I stayed with Mrs. Buckman all night, and scheduled a meeting with the District Attorney early in the morning. He was no more interested in this going to trial than you or she was. He is dropping all charges on everybody and sending everybody home. The Secret Service managed to bring one of their vehicles into the building and we hustled Mrs. Buckman out and through the crowds and brought her over here to the Hyatt. Security is extremely tight at the moment, at least it seems that way to me."
"No, I imagine it is really tight right now. Probably some new faces, too. Okay, so no jail time, no felony record, none of that stuff?", I asked.
"She's completely clean. Not even a misdemeanor. No prosecutor with an iota of ambition wants to be the guy who puts the First Lady in jail, no matter which party her husband is in. The desk sergeant was heard to say that if somebody wanted the First Lady searched, they could send the Police Chief down to do it, since nobody else would be that stupid! I can't promise anything on the civil side. This idiot Phelps and his bunch spent the night making themselves a real nuisance, and are demanding your wife be turned over to them. The Pittsburgh Police aren't being anywhere near as accommodating with them, and the last I heard they were still being processed out, slowly. I would bet my bottom dollar you're going to get hit with a civil suit.", he replied.
"Wonderful! Listen, thank you for everything. Make sure you let David Boies in on all of this, and make sure you keep an eye on Marilyn and the kids while they are out there. I am going to owe you on this, and not just your bill."
"Understood, Mister Buckman. They'll be fine, but I'll make sure I check in with them."
We said some good-bye pleasantries, and he passed the phone back to my wife. I promised I would call her later in the morning, and then hung up. I turned to the others and said, "Well, you probably heard everything. Calamity Jane is out of jail, but the nut jobs are baying at the moon."
I looked over at the others. Frank asked, "Is Mrs. Buckman all right?"
I sighed and nodded. "It would seem that her hard time in the big house wasn't too hard. She's back at the Hyatt. No charges for anybody. Phelps and his bunch are being turned loose. I suppose I'm being a dreamer if I say I hope he drops this."
Frank had the good grace not to laugh. It was Will's chance to snort derisively. "Not hardly. Publicity is the lifeblood of kooks and crazies, and let's face it, they now have publicity in spades! Phelps is going to milk this for all it's worth."
Mindy asked, "Isn't there any way to shut him up?"
"No, not at all. The bottom line is that the man is crazy. As in, howl at the moon, line your hat with tin foil, talk to imaginary friends crazy! If we were to line up every single gay and lesbian in the country and shoot them all, it still wouldn't be enough. He wants everyone not like himself to die. Fifty years ago they would have locked him up in an asylum and given him Thorazine but we're much more evolved now. Now we give him free air time.", Will answered.
"Any chance we can do something legally about them? Classify them as a hate group or something?", I asked.
Will and Mindy shrugged, but Frank responded. He was a lawyer, after all. "I don't know. Their first amendment free speech and freedom of religion rights are pretty potent shields. Your best bet is to call Frank Keating and have him look into it. My bet? If they tell people to kill your family, they are protected. If somebody listens to them and kills somebody, maybe not so much."
"You're just a bundle of fucking joy, Frank. You want to call Frank and take this up with him, please? I can't believe they aren't already watching these guys."