“I’m the godfather,” Graydon said drily.
“Dexter Mitchell. You all must be so proud. Yes. Proud. Reverend Roscoe, sir. Welcome to Washington, welcome.”
When it came JJ’s turn to shake, he extended his hand as though it were strictly on temporary loan.
The cameras followed it all.
“That’s very unusual,” a TV commentator said. “Very. Mitchell never came down to shake hands before. At least I’ve never seen him do it. What does that tell us, Bob?”
“Jim, I think it tells us that Senator Mitchell knows that he has to handle this carefully. Very carefully, in fact. Some feel that Mitchell and his committee members may have overplayed their hands with the previous two Court nominees. And as you know, polls are showing that a striking majority of people favor Judge Cartwright’s nomination. They like this lady. Of course, she’s on TV regularly, so they feel they know her already and that’s a major plus right there.”
“Those polls, Bob-what do they tell us about where we are, that is, as a nation?”
“I guess if nothing else, they tell us that we’ve reached the point-for better or worse-where being a TV personality is a qualification for the Supreme Court.”
“Good news for us, I guess, right?”
Senator Mitchell liked to tap with the handle of his gavel rather than the hammer, signaling that he wielded his authority lightly. He invited Judge Cartwright to read an opening statement.
“Thank you, Senator Mitchell,” she said. “I do not have an opening statement.”
“You don’t?”
“Other than to thank the President for the great-if perplexing-honor of nominating me to this considerable position. And to thank the Committee for considering it.”
The Botox in Dexter Mitchell’s face felt like it was gelling. “You don’t have a statement? It is customary, Judge.”
“I realize that, sir. But I guess at this point everyone pretty much knows who I am and what I’m doing here. Don’t see much point burning up your time yapping on and on about how wonderful I am.”
[Laughter.]
“But I would like to introduce my family. That’s them behind me. This is my daddy, Roscoe Cartwright. You may have seen him on TV. He’s real popular down there. This my granddaddy JJ Cartwright, who used to be a lawman down there. And this is my might-as-well-be grandmomma, Juanita Vazquez. They all three raised me, so if you don’t like what you see, it’s their fault. [Laughter.] I could honestly give a whole opening statement just about how wonderful they are, but why don’t we just get to the grilling. I see you’re all wearing your best barbecue mitts.”
[Laughter.]
Fifteen seconds in and she’s already taken over. Goddammit. Keep smiling.
“Well, Judge, it is unusual-”
“Senator,” Pepper smiled, “with all due respect, this whole blessed thing is unusual.”
[Explosion of laughter.]
“Now, with the Committee’s indulgence,” Pepper continued, reaching under the table, “I brought with me my whole judicial record.” She placed boxed sets of Courtroom Six DVDs on the green baize.
[Wave upon wave of laughter.]
Say something, dammit.
“I think I can safely speak for the Committee,” Senator Mitchell gleamingly grinned, “that this Committee has never looked forward so much to reviewing a nominee’s judicial records.”
[Laughter.]
Thank God. Okay, Mitchell thought. Good. Keep it up…
Pepper said, “I’m happy to have made the Committee’s job more pleasant. Might I respectfully suggest that when referring to any of my distinguished legal cases, that the Committee instead of citing by case number simply refer to ‘season two, episode four,’ and so forth?”
[Laughter.]
“The Committee gratefully accepts your recommendation,” Mitchell said, flexing his maxillofacial muscles to a point approaching pain. “Shall we…?”
“Commence firing?” Pepper grinned. “Absolutely. Fire at will, sir.”
For reasons of self-preservation, Mitchell had decided to invite Senator Harriett Shimmerman of the great state of New Jersey to try to draw first blood. Better, he thought, to let two women have at each other.
Senator Shimmerman was no fool. She was not in the least thrilled by the assignment. Her office had already received an unusual volume of e-mails, letters, calls, and even personal visits from constituents insisting that she vote to approve Judge Cartwright.
“Good morning, Judge Cartwright,” she began, trying her best to sound more like a kindergarten teacher than the fabled “Iron Maiden of Newark” who had sent scores of mafiosi to spend the rest of their lives staring at the ceiling of their cells for twenty-three hours a day in super-max prisons. “You’ve made a number of public statements to the effect that you do not consider yourself qualified to sit on the Supreme Court.” She smiled and made a help-me-out-here hand gesture. “I’m just wondering… should we be disagreeing with you about this?”
“No, ma’am. I stand by my previous statements. Realizing, as I do, that that doesn’t happen a whole lot in Washington.”
[Raucous laughter.]
Senator Shimmerman kept smiling. “Yes, well, welcome to our little town, Judge,” she said. “I wonder if perhaps you might tell the Committee a little about your judicial philosophy.”
“Basically, do your best to keep an orderly courtroom. Make sure everyone abides by the rules. Punish the wicked and acquit the innocent. That’s about it. Want to fast-forward to Roe v. Wade?”
“I… well…” Senator Shimmerman said, glancing at Dexter, who was looking on with a frozen smile.
Pepper said, “I’ve reviewed transcripts of the last dozen or so Supreme Court nomination hearings and they all seem to pretty much boil down to that.”
Senator Shimmerman straightened in her chair. “No. Not at all. I think this committee would like to hear your views on a great variety of topics.”
Pepper gave an unconvinced shrug. “Okay, if you say so. Just trying to save time. We can talk till the cows come home about original intent and strict constructionism, the living Constitution, judicial temperament, the role of the court versus the role of the legislature, what-have-you, and all the rest. I’m happy to do that. I’ve spent the last couple weeks cramming my locomotive with suggested answers Mr. Hayden Cork and his folks supplied me with.”
Hayden, watching on TV with the President, closed his eyes and silently groaned. The President beamed.
“The White House told you what to say?” Senator Shimmerman said.
“Heck, yes. They gave me these briefing books,” Pepper continued. “Great big pile of ’em. Looked like a back-to-school sale at Wal-Mart. You’d need a forklift to carry ’ em all. Anyway, I memorized all the answers. I warn you, though, Senator. They’re pretty darn dull. Seems to me, they were designed to have everyone at home reaching for the channel changer, going, ‘Wake me up if they find pubic hair on any Coke cans.’ [16] But however you want to play it, Senator. This is your rodeo.”
Graydon Clenndennynn smiled.
Senator Shimmerman’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. She looked like she’d been smacked across the face with a haddock.
In the Oval Office, President Vanderdamp purred. “That’s our girl, Hayden,” he said, slapping his desk. Hayden Cork said nothing.
Nineteen senators stared mutely at the nominee.
“Well,” Pepper smiled, “doesn’t anyone have a question?”
CHAPTER 12
Why should I be the one to bring that up?” Senator Pebblemacher of the great state of Nevada said with some truculence to Chairman Mitchell during a fraught caucus of half a dozen Committee senators prior to day three of the Cartwright hearings.
For two days, Dexter had been sending his party’s senators out onto the field of battle. They had all returned whimpering. Hanratty of Massachusetts had tried to nail Pepper for her atheism, to which Pepper had calmly replied, “Well, Senator, perhaps if you’d seen your momma get zapped by the Good Lord when you were nine years old, you might feel the same way.” Hanratty had received so many death threats he was now under Secret Service protection, spending nights at several undisclosed locations.