In Justice

by Alan Sears

  Chapter Fourteen

  LARRY JORDAN STOOD at the window of the Alliance conference room and gazed at the people who wandered the street. Lunch time had arrived and the amount of foot traffic on the Chicago sidewalk just off Michigan Avenue and the “Miracle Mile” shopping district had swelled. He wondered about the men and women who went about the day’s business—accountants, lawyers, bank employees, tech company workers, and more. Each moved from place to place as they had the workday before and would tomorrow. The country was changing around them, but he was sure that most gave little thought to it.

  Larry turned and faced the other Alliance leaders who sat around the long conference table. Michael Larson from Atlanta sat to Larry’s right. Next to him, Caroline Silvers of New York pushed a potato chip around on the paper plate in front of her. The sandwich on her plate remained untouched. Natalie Grossman had arrived from Miami that morning. Los Angeles-based Alexander Barons was the only one to eat his whole sandwich. His size indicated that he usually finished every meal.

  Each person present represented the Alliance in the city and region where they lived. There were many others who could have been there, but Larry felt a smaller group of the best and brightest would be more productive.

  Larry, who preferred to think on his feet, forced himself to sit at the head of the table. “Scott Freeman is still overseas, but doesn’t want us to lose any time. He asked me to gather a brainstorm team. You’re that team.”

  “They’ve been turning up the heat,” Barons said, pushing his plate back. “They’ve got wind in their sails now and they’re feeling confident.” He didn’t need to define who he meant by “they.”

  “I can’t believe Congress went for this,” Natalie said. “The language in the expanded DTED empowerment bill is much harsher than before. They have dramatically increased the penalties for conviction. Five-year prison terms and $250,000 penalties were bad enough, but a million-dollar fine is beyond any reasonable explanation. They have lost their corporate minds.”

  “Not to mention the forfeiture component, it’s way beyond RICO,” Caroline added. She was an ebony-skinned woman who looked a decade younger than her forty-two years. Many new legal opponents assumed her good looks came at the expense of intelligence. They made that mistake only once. “They’re treating our clients as if they were spies for a foreign country, or drug dealers.”

  Larry shared their frustration. “The original DTED legislation made it through Congress by the narrowest margin. With the murder of Ronnie Lee Jefferson—which you may have noticed Knox and his team like to keep fresh in people’s minds—public opinion is shifting their way. Our legislative analysts tell us that many of the politicians who resisted the original bill have been reading the polls. Nothing changes a politician’s mind faster than a shift in poll results. The amended obscenity and related laws have been altered almost overnight. Even the most relentless obstructionists have been getting on board.”

  Larry had reviewed the string of events that led to the expanded laws. The first time he did so, it made him sick. He was feeling the same thing now. John Knox Smith had seen momentum going his way and went back to Senators Heywood and Borden, who had carried the bill the first time. He asked them to go to the Senate with all the measures that had been cut from the initial legislation. They seemed happy to do it. His next stop was with President Blaine, who instructed his legislative council to send through the full package, with his blessing.

  “It’s bad enough squaring off with the Department of Justice time and time again, especially John Knox Smith, but having the president throwing his full weight behind the new law hasn’t helped. Legislative review on these matters has become a joke. It reminds me of the Johnson Amendment of decades ago. The review process has been overrun by a rush to approve these changes.”

  The president had stayed on the sidelines during the early wrangling over the original legislation involving DTED to make sure his fingerprints wouldn’t appear on it just in case things went badly. Now, he was more than willing to give the team at DTED and their allies in the Congress his full support. Within weeks the bill was back on the Hill, and it was now known as the American Citizens Tolerance, Equality, Safety, and Freedom Act. Insiders called it “DTED Squared.”

  The Washington Post quoted the president’s press secretary saying, “This is a very difficult topic. Admittedly, we’ve seen some extreme things happening, but in the current climate, I think we all agree that something has to be done. The public now understands the risks involved, and it’s vital that we step up to stop the hate and bitterness that lurks in some parts of this nation. Equality for all Americans is not a meaningless phrase; it’s a pledge we make to every citizen.”

  Caroline tapped a fingernail on the table. Her jaw tightened. “Our clients are not criminals. Not in any sense. These are good people, honest people. We’ve seen it time and time again: Someone feels a call to do something worthwhile, to spread the Gospel, to bring spiritual light to a dark world, to protect the unborn, the innocent. Then guys like Smith charge in and ruin them. I don’t know how anyone with any intelligence can look at the organizations we’re defending and not see the integrity of the men and women who lead them. They follow stringent guidelines for nonprofits, allow their organizations to be audited, file endless reports to the government, have strong, independent boards of directors, and they leave themselves open to all possible scrutiny. They work hard, and are paid a fraction of what they’d make in the private sector. What do they get for it? Persecution and loss of property.” She pushed her plate away.

  Caroline was venting. When a lawyer walks into court he or she looks confident, back straight, at ease. Behind the façade, however, was a fair amount of insecurity. The Alliance had won many cases but the overall problem continued. The new, expanded law had made serving their clients all the more difficult. Larry could do with a little venting himself, but his job was to keep this meeting on track.

  Michael Larson spoke. “As we all know, the forfeiture presumption in the new law says that wherever a ‘crime’ occurred—in a home, a business, an automobile, or anywhere else—that property automatically transfers to the government. This has been the case in admiralty law for many years, where the government has the right to seize vessels on the high seas. Later, it was expanded with RICO so that if an individual carried illegal drugs in a boat, airplane, or other motorized vehicle, from the moment they placed the contraband in it the vehicle belonged to the government.

  “With these amendments,” Larson continued, “when an individual or organization is alleged to violate the hate speech law, all of the property that is used to further the offense—whether a home, a vehicle, a church, a synagogue, even a private company or a radio station—becomes the property of the government retroactively from the moment of the offense. It then becomes the burden of the former property owner to prove whether or not there is any lawful defense for their actions.”

  Larry thought Larson looked like Samuel Clemens turned silver-tongued trial lawyer. He tapped the table top with his little finger. “We must make the case that this is an egregious overreaching by the government. Taking property without due process of law has always been a violation of the First, Fifth, and Fourteenth Amendments. I’ve done everything but pay the media to make this known, but they haven’t been so inclined.”

  “For more than a century,” Larry said, “the FCC has argued that the government owns the airwaves and possesses the authority to regulate not only who uses those airways, but how they use them as the Constitution is rewritten by the courts. These new laws have reached the point where government can exercise similar authority over all property, both public and private, to insure that no property of any kind can be used for purposes it has banned. Government directives argued that, ‘whatever emanates from a property is of public interest,’ and the law will no longer allow private property to be used for what it declares deleterious purposes.”

  “I heard John Knox Smith intervi
ewed a few weeks ago,” Barons said. “He argued that the new law is simply a logical extension of the Supreme Court’s ruling upholding racketeering laws and the civil decision in Kelo v. City of New London, et al., which allowed cities to seize private property for commercial or other uses in the public interest like taking houses to put up warehouses or grocery stores. He said…hang on a sec.” Barons, who was famous for his memory, closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Got it. He said, ‘It’s logical. When anyone uses a church or any other public venue for hate speech, and that fact is brought to the attention of law enforcement, the government has an obligation to seize the property and transfer it to someone who will use it for a better public purpose.’” Barons opened his eyes. “I almost had to call the paramedics to restart my heart.”

  “They’re going after church property and church schools,” Larry said. “They’re using their favorite skeleton key ‘hate speech’ to do it.”

  “And the local governments are turning a blind eye,” Larson said. “And why wouldn’t they? Churches and church schools are tax-exempt entities. If their property is turned over to a tax-paying enterprise, then the city, county, and state governments get a boost of cash.”

  Larry couldn’t sit any longer. He stood and stepped behind the high-back chair. “Pray the Supreme Court will put that mischief away. The Alliance’s case load is growing exponentially. The more the government continues to prosecute, the more we have to step up our efforts. Since the new law has gone into effect, our case load has tripled but our income has not. And every case comes with backlash. For every pastor, rabbi, priest, or parachurch leader who is arrested, there are scores of others who water down their teaching, or just get out of the ministry. Attrition rate is staggering. Parachurch organizations are having trouble hiring employees, contributions are off as well, and it’s not just them, but churches, too.”

  “And the Alliance?” Natalie prompted.

  “We have the best supporters an organization like ours can have, but we have seen a dip in contributions.

  Silence filled the room for a moment as the others waited for Larry to take the lead.

  “Here’s where we need to buckle down. We have won many of our cases, and like you, I’m thankful to God for every one, but the playing field has changed and changed to our disadvantage. I know you are all working more hours than anyone has a right to ask, but we need to do more. If we don’t, we may win many battles and lose the war. So I want to hear ideas. I don’t care how far-fetched they seem, I want to hear them, and then we’ll take some serious time to pray over them, asking for discernment and wisdom.”

  Barons smiled.

  “Something funny, Alexander?” Larry asked.

  “Years ago, I read a biography of Bobby Kennedy. When he was attorney general, he went toe-to-toe with Teamster leader Jimmy Hoffa. Late one night, Kennedy leaves his office. As they drive down the street, he sees the window to the office used by Hoffa. Bear in mind, this is well after normal working hours. Kennedy sees the light and assumes Hoffa is still working. He makes his driver turn around and return to the DOJ. He uses words I won’t repeat here, but in essence he says, ‘If Hoffa is going to work late, then I’m going to work later.’ Somehow Hoffa hears of this and decides to leave his light on all night every night.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, Alexander.”

  “What? Leaving the lights on?”

  “No—making certain that John Knox Smith and his pals know we are in this for the long haul. We challenge them at every turn. We work every case as if we’re arguing before the Supreme Court. We take every case that should go to the high court. They need to know that we aren’t going away. Not now. Not ever.”

  THE MORE ARRESTS made and cases initiated, whether taken to trial or not, the better John felt. But in some districts the dockets were so full and the demands on judges, prosecutors, and other government officials so great that the whole system was slowly grinding to a halt. When one of the deputies to Attorney General Stamper called to speak to John about the predicament, John had a ready response.

  “You need to get rid of the dead wood,” he said.

  “Dead wood? What does that mean?”

  “It’s simple. We need more firepower. What we don’t need is the obstructionist rat pack gumming up the works. By which I mean we need to weed out the traditionalist judges and get new ones. And while we’re at it, we need to double the number of judges in the appellate system.”

  “Fire everybody? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, of course not. That would create a stink. There’s a better way and the time is right.”

  At that point John offered to meet with the attorney general to lay out a plan that would solve their problems, guarantee fast and efficient implementation of President Blaine’s policies, and make life in all the department’s agencies and bureaus more tolerable. To help lay out the details, he asked Senator Heywood to join them, since his plan would involve important new legislation.

  The end result of that meeting, which both Alton Stamper and Will Blaine were glad to endorse, was a new law soon hailed by the media and progressive think tanks as the most “far-sighted and far-reaching” new law in the history of modern American jurisprudence. Since the case load for federal judges had been so extraordinary for the past two decades, and with so many federal district and appellate judges being forced to work intolerably long hours for months on end, the administration and Congress, led by Josh Heywood, was able to settle on a remarkable solution, proposed by the head of the Justice Department’s Diversity and Tolerance Enforcement Division—John Knox Smith.

  The National Judicial Expansion and Retirement Act was a sweeping new law that offered all federal judges of any age who had served at least ten years on the bench a one-time option of early retirement at 100 percent of their current salary, with inflation and cost-of-living adjustments for life. Furthermore, there were no limitations on non-governmental employment. The only requirement for judges to take advantage of this opportunity was that they had to exercise their option and step down within six months of the enactment of the new law.

  In addition, the bill created two judicial positions for every existing position, doubling the number of federal judges, dramatically decreasing the workload of the officers of the court, and leading to a greater “administration of justice.” Members of Congress who supported the fast-track initiative were motivated by the fact that the new law would help to clear the courts of any remaining constitutional “originalists” types, and would allow the current administration to gain incomparably greater influence in the federal courts without the need of a constitutional amendment or impeachments, which would have been too slow and messy.

  Rather than creating a firestorm of dissent from conservatives, who were simply labeled as the “Party of ‘No’” by the media, these fast and decisive moves by the administration and Congress in changing the structure of the courts and expanding its role, were well received by the public—a public who had little understanding of the workings of the court system but knew it was terribly backed up.

  The added pressure this new law applied to churches and other religious groups failed to result in, as Joel Thevis had once predicted, a backlash. Instead, many of those groups grew more cooperative.

  “AVOIDING THE PRESS?”

  Pastor Pat Preston looked up from his nearly empty paper coffee cup and saw the familiar face of Skip Warner. He stood two inches shorter and at least twenty inches rounder than Pat. The overhead lights of the Atlanta convention center anteroom reflected off his brushed-back white hair. The suit he wore looked tailored for his large frame.

  “The press hasn’t shown any interest in me. I thank God for that.” Pat motioned for Warner to join him. “You want a coffee or a soda?”

  Warner sat at the round table and brushed away a few crumbs left over by the people who had been there before them. “My stomach can’t take more acid or carbonation.”

  “How about s
ome water?” Neither made eye contact. Warner kept his gaze fixed on the table. Pat watched the ebb and flow of denominational leaders and megachurch pastors as they walked in and out of the rented conference hall.

  Warner waved off the offer. “I imagine you’re disappointed in me.”

  Pat sipped his coffee to buy a few seconds of time. “Yeah, Skip, I am.”

  Warner nodded. “I figured as much. Truth is: I’m pretty disappointed in myself.”

  “Then why do it?”

  Warner picked at something stuck to the table’s surface. Pat didn’t know what it was and didn’t care.

  “Our country has changed, Pat. This isn’t the same government we grew up with. Things were very different when we started ministry.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Pat said.

  Warner chuckled but Pat heard no humor in it. “Seems like several lifetimes ago since I stepped behind the pulpit at The Harbor Church in southern California. There were forty pairs of eyes looking back at me. Every week, we had to make decisions about which bills to pay and which to let visit with us longer. Do you know that several times I went without pay?”

  “I didn’t know that. The same happened to me in my first church during my Southern Seminary days.”

  “We were younger then, more flexible in every area of life.”

  “Skip, we’re not that old. You talk like we’re sitting in rocking chairs on the porch of the old folk’s home.”

  “I’m ten years older than you, Pat, and ministry has a way of aging a man.”

  “That’s certainly true. The work isn’t for the faint of heart.”

  Warner looked up. “Do you think I’m faint of heart?”

  Pat hesitated. “I’ve always admired you, Skip. I’ve followed your career and listened to your sermons almost every week over the Internet. You have been an inspiration.”

  “Until now.”

  “I’m not your judge, Skip. God is.”

  “You don’t think I should have spoken up in favor of accepting the government’s new policies on hate speech and taken the funding?”

  Pat set his cup aside and leaned over the table. “Skip, what we do is not hate speech. It is not intolerance.”

  “The government says it is.”

  “The present government does. They won’t be in office forever.”

  “This won’t go away, Pat. This kind of thinking is here to stay. That’s why there are so many key leaders from the Christian community here. This is probably the largest gathering of megachurch pastors in history. They all came for the same reason, to discuss the errors of our ways.”

  Pat clenched his jaw and prayed for a civil spirit. “I’ve heard your sermons. You’ve made no errors and neither have I. All we’ve done is preach from the Bible. We proclaim the truth of Scripture. We don’t do it with hate. You know that. Everyone is welcome in our church. If homosexuals come to our service, I don’t point them out and call for a stoning. I preach whatever God has put on my heart for that morning, just like you do. I don’t point out adulterers, or fornicators, or liars, or thieves. I preach Christ and His love. Some respond; some don’t, but what I do—what we do—is not a crime.”

  “It is now. Thanks to Congress, the president, and the attorney general.”

  “And John Knox Smith.”

  “What’s that I hear in your voice? Disappointment?”

  Pat nodded. “I went to school with Smith. We used to debate everything. It was an odd friendship. I knew he was a man of ambition and passion, but I never saw this coming.”

  “I want to tell you something, Pat. I want you to hear it from me and not through the media.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’m going to hold a press conference and apologize to all whom I may have offended by my sermons and writings.”

  “By which you mean…?”

  “Primarily members of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered community.”

  “But your church—”

  “My board is already behind me on this.”

  Pat rubbed his eyes. “You have a ten thousand member church. You built that church up from forty people, Skip. God built that church through your biblical preaching. To back away from your previous teaching is bound to create problems.”

  Warner lowered his voice. “Doing nothing will cause greater problems, at least for me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Leaning closer to Pat, Warner spoke just above a whisper. “I got a call shortly before coming here. We have a member who has a communications firm that handles Internet security for several California law enforcement agencies. He also handles their intranet systems—the network that only law enforcement can access. He—unintentionally, mind you—came across a plan to raid my church. The member called me immediately. DTED Hate Crimes units are just days away from kicking down our doors. You’ve seen the news, Pat, you know how they do this. They arrest the heads of the ministry and parade them around for the media to see. Tell me that won’t knock the legs from under my ministry.”

  “It grieves me to hear that. I know what that feels like.”

  “Really? Forgive me, Pat, but how can you?”

  “Not long after John Knox Smith started shaking things up, I heard from a mutual friend Mr. Smith and I share from our college days. He said that John hinted I should be careful about what I do and say. It came after I did the funeral for the pastor who was gunned down in his office.”

  “As I recall, he gunned down an U.S. Marshal.”

  Pat agreed. “I don’t think we’ll ever really know what happened. All I know is that the government never found what they went in looking for. Anyway, word got to my old friend and it seems he thought I had made a mistake by doing the service.”

  “So what did you do after the warning?”

  “The same thing I’ve been doing since entering the ministry: proclaim the Word of God and the love of Jesus.”

  “You didn’t back away?”

  Pat shook his head. “I couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to tell God why I feared men more than I feared Him.”

  “That’s great preacher talk, Pat. I’ve said the same thing myself, but things have changed.”

  “So you say. The question is: Has God’s will changed?”

  Warner sighed. “Do you know who Father Francis Perone is?”

  “He’s a parish priest in New York, right?”

  “Long Island,” Warner said. “He spent much of his time preaching about what he called ‘the abortion crisis.’ His sermons went out over television, radio, and Internet—just like ours. The local bishop refused to quiet him despite requests from DTED. The guy kept at it, taking the state’s most prominent health providers to task. He went so far as to name them in his homilies.

  “Some of his own parishioners felt he had crossed the line, but Perone would not shut up. Reports of his hate speech violations mounted, but still he kept at it. During the nine o’clock Mass, agents entered the church and arrested him. He was right in the middle of his message. These guys not only arrest you, they do so in the most embarrassing way. They could have taken him before or after the sermon, or even during the week, but they chose the middle of the service. Do you know what happened?”

  “No,” Pat said.

  “I had one of my staff do a little research. A few parishioners made phone calls and a few conservative bishops complained to the press. That was it. No one raced to his defense. After a few days, people stopped complaining. The whole thing just disappeared, and Father Perone, who has no financial resources, was left to defend himself.”

  Warner sat back. “That could have been you, Pat. If I don’t step back a little, it will be me.” He stood. “I know you don’t agree—you probably consider me a coward, but I hope I will still be able to call you friend.”

  Pat stood and held out his hand. “I wish you’d reconsider, Skip, I really do. Nonetheless, you can count on my friendship, and my prayers.”

 
Warner’s eyes glistened and he tried to speak but the words never came. He turned and melted into the milling crowd.

  That night, Pat watched Skip Warner on the evening news. He stood behind a lectern outside the main entrance of the Atlanta convention center. Behind him stood several nationally known pastors and parachurch leaders.

  Warner’s voice broke and his lip quivered. “I and many of my brethren wish to offer a heartfelt apology to those who may have felt slighted by our preaching and teaching. Scores of ministers have gathered at this meeting to evaluate our past behavior and treatment of people from certain important and valuable segments of the community. We have weighed ourselves in the balance of fairness and justice and have found ourselves wanting.”

  Warner paused and inhaled deeply. A tear trickled down his right cheek. He let the tear fall before speaking. “After acknowledging our guilt, many of us have agreed to be more cautious in our speech and more open in our understanding. To set the tone for these changes, I wish to apologize and seek the forgiveness from the homosexual and transgendered community. I further promise to lead in efforts to make equality and acceptance of such groups a reality. No longer will we discriminate in areas of marriage and sexual conduct. God’s love is broad enough to encompass everyone and we wish to be His agents in expressing that love. To paraphrase Jesus, ‘Come unto us all you who are oppressed and discriminated against and we will give you rest.”

  Pat turned off the television and began packing his bags.