"That's absolutely ridiculous." Mary's voice trembled in anger. "I saw that gun kill my family. I saw what that bullet did."
"It is ridiculous," Sarah echoed softly. "Even sick. But at the same time those articles started appearing, Republicans began appointing federal judges approved by the SSA—or, at least, who shared its views." Sarah slid some papers across the desk to Mary. "I've copied a Texas case which began in federal court. An abusive husband subject to a restraining order claimed that the Constitution created a right of individual gun ownership—one so absolute that it barred the government from taking his gun away. Even to protect his wife.
"Creating precedents cuts both ways. This judge, a Reagan appointee, found that the right exists. Whether it's absolute, permitting a spousal abuser to keep his guns no matter what, has yet to be decided. And a recent opinion from this circuit, Silvera v. Lockyear, the most thorough opinion written on the subject, says emphatically that the Second Amendment does not create an individual right to own a gun. But you can see where the SSA is going: if unregulated gun ownership causes so much violence that we all get sick of it, the SSA's only hope is to create an absolute right, embedded in the Constitution, which would bar us from passing new gun laws." To Lenihan, Sarah finished, "With the SSA's encouragement, I'd expect Lexington to argue that it can't be sued for an activity which enables citizens to exercise their sacred Second Amendment rights. Even in the face of the Silvera case, and even for citizens like Bowden."
Mary listened intently. Glancing at her, Lenihan told Sarah, "And even I read cases. In fact, I'm thoroughly familiar with the law surrounding guns. That's one of several reasons she's asked me to represent her."
"Which you'd like to do without me," Sarah answered calmly. "So let's stop playing games.
"I didn't call Mary—you did. I've never met with Mary alone. And after she leaves here, I'm not going to call her to explain why you shouldn't represent her, or I should." Sarah's voice became crisp. "On the other hand, I'm quite confident that as soon as you leave here, you'll give her any number of reasons why you should try this case without me. So why don't you tell us both?"
After an instant, Lenihan shrugged. "I'm sure you're an able lawyer, Sarah. At least you've read a lot about guns. That's because, for you, the client is the cause.
"To me, the client is Mary. My job is to bring thirty years of experience to a single cause—to simplify the case, to present the most attractive facts to the jury in the most persuasive possible way, and to win Mary the largest recovery possible." Pausing, Lenihan gave Mary Costello an encouraging smile. "And, not incidentally, inflicting so much pain on Lexington that an entire industry will shiver.
"I understand the First Lady's affinity for the Kilcannon Center. I'm sure, as an older sister, she means to look after you. But when it comes to the courtroom—as the President would say if he were here—there's no one better suited than I. You don't need me wasting time in needless quarrels over strategy."
Turning, he held up a placating hand to Sarah. "I, too, admire the Center. It's simply a question of whether you're the right lawyer for Mary's wrongful death action. You're not. Both because of inexperience and because public interest lawyers push the law to its limits. Even if that endangers the client's interests."
Smiling, Sarah spoke to Mary. "Bob's right," she acknowledged. "I'd like you to advance this lawsuit in a way which protects others from suffering as you have.
"I'll never conceal that. I think you should do it. But I'll always tell you when the public interest diverges from your own." Sarah faced Lenihan. "Every lawyer has an agenda. Sometimes it's a cause, sometimes glory, sometimes money. Sometimes it's all three.
"I don't care about 'glory'—I had enough exposure in the Tierney case to despise it. I don't want any piece of the verdict. All I want is our expenses, and the chance to help Mary make this lawsuit matter."
Mary regarded her gravely. When Lenihan began to speak, she placed her hand on his wrist. "I want you both," she told him. "I'd just feel more confident if you could work together."
Lenihan's eyebrows flew up. "That's fine with me," Sarah answered promptly. "In fact, I'd be very grateful for the opportunity."
With a theatrical sigh, Lenihan sat back, regarding Sarah with a complex look of enmity, amusement, annoyance and calculation. "Then come along with me, Sarah. I imagine we'll both learn something."
SE VEN
"This is our biggest challenge," Charles Dane told Senator Frank Fasano. "At least since 1968."
He did not mention the murders of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. He did not need to. That they met in Kelsey Landon's K Street office, not the SSA's or Fasano's, said enough about the volatility of the moment.
The SSA's choice of Kelsey Landon as its consultant spoke to this as well. A small, well-knit man with silver hair and a perpetual expression of shrewd but pleasant alertness, the former senator from Colorado's fund-raising prowess had secured him a unique influence among Senate Republicans, cementing his closeness to Frank Fasano: when Fasano had set out to succeed Macdonald Gage, Landon had quietly passed the word that major Republican donors and power brokers favored his aspirations. Now, deferring to Fasano, Landon merely responded to Dane's comment with a wry smile of acknowledgment—a cue, Fasano sensed, that he should remind Dane of how much the SSA needed them both.
"It's the worst I've seen," Fasano said bluntly. "Especially in the Senate. My moderates are worried—they've seen the numbers for Kilcannon and the First Lady. And Lexington's not warm and fuzzy."
Seated in an elegant wing chair, Dane wore a pin-striped Savile Row suit which accented his air of power and ease. "In the end," he told Fasano, "Americans will respect individual responsibility. Bowden pulled the trigger, not George Callister."
"That's not good enough," Fasano said. "At least right now." Pausing, he added softly, "Some would say that Martin Bresler had the right idea on trigger locks and gun shows. And that it's too bad someone crushed him."
From behind his desk, Fasano noticed, Landon followed the exchange with the air of a connoisseur of tennis watching two veteran players testing each other's game. "Bresler crushed himself," Dane admonished. "Sometimes you'd be better off, Frank, envisioning gun owners not as a 'special interest,' but as members of one of the great religions of the world. The core of our membership would give us everything they owned before they give Kilcannon an inch on guns."
"Sounds like religion," Fasano answered. "I know it isn't politics. The Kilcannons have hung Lexington with an image problem that'll be hard to overcome."
"That's the real problem," Landon told Fasano. "It's not just Kilcannon's gun bill—it's our old friend Robert Lenihan. He can't help bragging—seems like he's signed up Lara Kilcannon's sister for a wrongful death suit against Lexington. If Lenihan's doing this, Kilcannon's pulling his strings . . ."