Wherefore, the Petitioners demand that this Court declare that the Petitioners are being deprived of their liberty by the United States without Due Process of Law, without formal charges having been brought against them and in violation of their rights as protected by the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments to the United States Constitution. Petitioners further demand that this Court issue preliminary and permanent injunctions prohibiting the United States from further holding said Petitioners in custody.
I like that, Shapiro thought. That’s legalese for Moses’s message to the Pharaoh another time Jews were held in captivity without cause. Let my people go.
The iCal reminder message beeped at Ben Shapiro. Lunch with JK, it said. Judy Katz. Shit, he thought. I’m late. Shapiro leaped from his desk, grabbed his suit jacket and jogged out the door. He arrived at the Sultan’s Palace right at noon.
Shapiro scanned the people standing in line outside the door without recognizing anybody. As he moved forward to look inside the restaurant, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and felt a charge race through his body. Standing in front of him was a stunning young woman with long, full black hair swept back from her face and falling beyond her shoulders. Her dark eyes were clear and intelligent. Her coal-black suit was certainly businesslike, but it did little to hide her figure.
“Ben Shapiro?” she asked.
“That I am,” Shapiro answered. “I take it you are Judy. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve followed your exploits in the Globe. I’ve gotta tell you, I enjoy it when a young attorney kicks butt—especially, and I’m not being chauvinistic here but maybe a bit paternalistic for an old man like me, I enjoy it when a young woman attorney can kick butt in court in front of a jury. There’s nothing like that thrill when you know the jury is buying your act, right?”
She gave him a puzzled look. “Are you this candid this quickly with everyone you meet?” she asked.
“No, sorry, look, I apologize. One of those mornings so far, I guess. No, what I meant to say is that good trial lawyers are rare, and from all I’ve heard and read about you, you are a good trial lawyer.” He was surprised to feel the rush of a blush come to his face. “That was an awkward effort at a compliment, I suppose.”
She smiled. “Compliment accepted then. I agree.” She leaned close to him. He smelled a fresh, outdoor smell from her hair, her skin perhaps. Not flowery—more like an absence of odors than any particular smell at all. She put her lips close to his right ear, glancing at the backs of the people in line in front of them. He heard her whisper, “I know what you mean. Hearing that word, guilty, from the jury foreman is as close as I’ve come to having an orgasm with my clothes on,” she said.
“Never quite gone that far myself,” Shapiro said quickly, standing straight, pulling his head away from her.
After five minutes they came to the head of the line and placed their orders, which they carried to a table on the second level. She glanced at Shapiro’s left hand, confirming that the gold band was a wedding ring. That was disappointing but not totally disqualifying.
“So, wonderful as it is for us to meet, I assume there was a specific reason for this get-together,” Shapiro said as they finished their lunches.
“Yes, there certainly is,” Katz said, businesslike and much less flirtatious. “I want to know whether you would be willing to bring a religious discrimination lawsuit against the United States Attorney.”
Shapiro sat back in his chair, hand on his chin, looking closely at Katz to see whether she was joking.
“I’m not afraid to sue anybody. I’ve certainly taken on bigger fish than Arnie Anderson,” he said calmly. “I assume you are the plaintiff.”
She nodded.
“And I assume you are Jewish.”
She nodded again.
“So you want to sue Arnie Anderson because he did something to you at work because you are Jewish? Is that what you are saying?”
“That is precisely what I’m saying,” Katz said. “Let me tell you what happened.” She described the recent events to him, leaving out only her lunch with Bob Shaw, honoring her promise to keep that confidential. She owed him that much. Besides, it was a promise.
She finished her recitation with a question, the question clients always ended their recitations with. “So,” she said, “do I have a case?”
Shapiro respected her for not asking the other question clients always asked: “What’s it worth?” He paused to draw a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
“Yes, technically you have a case. You were treated differently in the terms and conditions of your employment because of your religion. That violates Title VII, the federal employment discrimination statute. You’re a federal employee, so you have to jump through a few more procedural hoops than if you were a private employee, but you do have a valid, legitimate, even winnable claim.”
She smiled. Relieved.
“But, Judy, it isn’t a case I’d be interested in bringing. There is so much more going on that concerns me, concerns me as a lawyer but mostly concerns me as a Jew. You’re looking at probably five years of litigation. You have to go through the Justice Department human rights office first, then through the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission process, all before you, as a federal employee, get to first file suit in court. I think five years would be quick.
“In five years Arnie will be gone, either in the statehouse where he wants to be or in some big firm, where he’s more likely to be. You won’t be doing what you are doing now. That lawsuit would kill your career. And all for what? What damages could you expect? You aren’t out of pocket a nickel. I assume you didn’t have any nervous breakdown and wind up committed to McLean Hospital. That’s what it takes to get big bucks for emotional distress. You could win and get twenty-five grand, and I’d get an award of attorney’s fees and make ten times what you get from the case, and neither of us would see a penny of that for five years. I wouldn’t do it if I were you, and I won’t do it myself.”
She sighed. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“Because you’re a trial lawyer yourself,” he said. “A real trial lawyer.”
“So, I’ll quit then,” she said suddenly, waiting for him to tell her how wrong a move that would be.
“I would if I were you,” he answered, surprising her. “I’d quit any government job these days. This is not a government a Jew should be affiliated with. I’m fighting against this government. That’s what you should be doing, too.”
Shapiro paused, rubbing his chin and looking at Katz carefully. Then he smiled at her.
“So, Judy, how are you fixed for money?”
“I’m comfortable,” Katz said. “I sure haven’t spent much over the years, and my parents left me, well, something. They had life insurance. It paid into a trust fund—not a real huge trust fund, but enough to live on, the way I live. Why do you ask?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment,” Shapiro replied. “One more question. Do you have a security clearance?”
“You’ll have to explain what significance that has before I answer,” she said, a tinge of coldness coming into her expression.
“Ok, fair enough,” Shapiro said, smiling at her, encouraged by her caution. This woman is the kind of lawyer I like, he thought. “I know an organization looking for a good trial lawyer. I don’t know how much it pays or even if it pays at all. The ADL, Anti-Defamation League. I’m working with them, along with what seems to be half the Jewish lawyers in town, on habe petitions for the people being held on the cape. It’s already out of control. There could be four thousand separate lawsuits the way it’s shaping up. We need somebody to coordinate it all.