"A little florid," Fasano observed. "This isn't the Fourth of July."
The SSA, Dane continued, is not a monolith. It's four million individual Americans, lawfully exercising rights granted them by our Founding Fathers. Our members didn't know John Bowden. They didn't control his actions. They played no role in Lexington's legal marketing of a completely legal product.
Pausing, Dane jabbed his finger at the camera. Make no mistake, America—the monolith in this case is the federal government, deployed by a President who is using this case to destroy the very companies who make your rights a reality, and the one organization which can protect those rights from harm.
Kerry Kilcannon's weapon is not a gun. It is a cabal of plaintiffs' lawyers, in league with the left-wing group which bears his family name, exploiting a tragedy to which, sadly, his own personal derelictions were a primary contributor . . .
"He's on the edge," Fasano remarked. "Let's hope he doesn't say that Kilcannon has blood on his hands."
"Doesn't he?" Gage said with quiet bitterness. "He certainly has mine."
Defending this abuse, Dane continued, may well cost us millions. But we will never settle. We will fight this case to the bitter end—if necessary, in the Supreme Court itself—in defense of that fundamental freedom which makes all other freedoms possible: the right to keep and bear arms.
We call on our members to support us. We call on the American people to rise up as one in protest. Staring into the camera, Dane finished solemnly. We call on the leaders of Congress to put this outrage to an end . . .
He was stuck, Fasano realized, and so was Kerry Kilcannon. What Kilcannon had set in motion—a race between a lawsuit and the Senate; a clash between Kilcannon and the SSA—might spin out of control, with consequences worse than anyone could imagine. Only Macdonald Gage, turning to Fasano, could feel happy.
"Ready, Frank?" he asked.
SEVENTEEN
The following morning, as the result of random selection by computer, Sarah and Lenihan found themselves in the chambers of United States District Judge Gardner W. Bond.
Lenihan's grim demeanor reflected the harsh truth: out of fourteen judges they could have drawn, Gardner Bond was the worst for Mary Costello. That Bond had always disdained Robert Lenihan—sabotaging his cases to the extent he could—was the least of it. Bond was an idealogue in bow ties, a passionate conservative who, as a lawyer, had made his name by litigating pro bono against gay scoutmasters and in defense of demonstrators who harassed abortion clinics.
This was among the reasons that so many had opposed Bond's appointment to the bench. To Sarah, Bond seemed temperamentally unable, either in his professional or personal lives, to tolerate anyone who did not believe as he did. Another reason was his membership in two oldline private clubs which proudly excluded women. And still another was his active involvement in the Federalist Society, a group of right-wing lawyers dedicated, among other things, to their own ironic form of judicial activism—stacking the federal courts with conservatives dedicated to combating what they perceived to be the excesses of liberalism.
Completing this grim picture was the fact that, in the monochromatic world of Gardner Bond and his allies, Kerry Kilcannon was the leading bête noire, an illegitimate President who must, at all costs, be driven from power. That Kilcannon then would be succeeded by a Republican, like Frank Fasano, would serve Bond's interests as well. Only a Republican President could elevate Bond to the Court of Appeals and, with great good fortune, to the Supreme Court itself.
In his mind's eye, Sarah thought, Gardner Bond was halfway there. Dressed in a blue pin-striped suit, Bond sat stiffly at the end of his conference table, looking—with his gold-rimmed glasses, closely trimmed greying hair and mustache, and white breast pocket handkerchief—like an oil portrait of himself. To Bond's right, sitting with Harrison Fancher, John Nolan appeared comfortably self-satisfied. Bond and Nolan were members of the same political party and the same private clubs, and for Nolan the moment must be redolent of wing chairs and cigars, black waiters in white jackets gliding with silver drink trays amidst cossetted white males. Lenihan and Sarah did not belong.
Still, Sarah thought, Nolan's removal petition was, transparently, nothing more than a legal prank. She and an associate from Lenihan's firm had spent all night researching the law and drafting a reply. If anything, the purported grounds for Gardner Bond to retain the case were even more frivolous than they first appeared. Bond, in Sarah's hopeful estimate, was too smart not to know this, too prideful to abet John Nolan in quite so transparent a way.
After perfunctory nods around the table, Bond said abruptly, "I've read the defendants' brief, and plaintiff 's opposition thereto. Unless any of you have something particularly compelling to add, I'm prepared to rule."
This was plainly an invitation to silence. The three men—Nolan with a blank expression; Fancher with sharp, expectant eyes; Lenihan with folded arms—said nothing. As for Sarah, she chose to interpret the judge's brusqueness in a hopeful light: Gardner Bond had resolved to make short work of John Nolan's legal nonsense.
"According to the petition," Bond continued in his polished baritone, "the plaintiff's antitrust and public nuisance theories present unique issues under the Commerce Clause, including the fact that plaintiffs are asking a state court in California to control Lexington's alleged behavior in another state, Nevada. The petition also asserts rights under the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution.
"For these reasons, I agree that this court is the proper forum."
Sarah felt jarred, as though feeling the first tremors of an earthquake, unprepared to believe what was transpiring. "Your Honor . . ."
Bond turned to her with a closed expression. "As I recall, Ms. Dash, I asked if you had anything to say."
"I didn't," Sarah persisted in desperation. "But, with all respect, I need to address your premise." Pausing, she steadied herself. "State courts have concurrent jurisdiction over antitrust cases. State courts routinely deal with claims under the Bill of Rights. State courts are empowered to protect their citizens from actions which imperil their welfare, even if taken in another state. And the claims at the heart of this case— wrongful death and public nuisance—are uniquely matters of state law.
"We've researched this issue up, down and sideways. There's no precedent whatsoever for removal. Mr. Nolan's petition cites none."
Behind his glasses, Bond's eyes were hard. Stiffly, he said, "Then you have the right to appeal, don't you?"