Impeachment

by Mark Spivak

  The staffs of Senators on the Judiciary Committee slept in their offices, working nonstop to prepare for the trial. There was little precedent to go on: Andrew Johnson had been impeached nearly 150 years before and Nixon’s trial had never materialized, so William Hampton was the only available role model. As December progressed, it became apparent that the atmosphere was very different than it had been in 1999. Back then the Senate had been composed of fifty-five Republicans and forty-five Democrats, and no one in the President’s party voted for his removal from office. This time, the outcome of the impending trial was haunted by the vote on the Repatriation Act, when nine Democrats had defected. Putting aside that the Atalas administration had been dismissive and high-handed with Congress from the beginning, many Senators were uncomfortable with the fact that the President had flouted the law and was now asking them to do so.

  As usual, the Nevada Gaming Commission prohibited Las Vegas sports books from accepting wagers on the outcome, but betting was brisk in Europe. Most of the action taken by London bookies ran overwhelmingly against Atalas, and betting $1 on conviction in Dublin netted a mere 60 cents. The touts were taking no chances.

  Handicapping the situation from the White House proved to be more difficult. The office of the Chief Justice, who would be conducting the Senate trial, maintained radio silence for the month of December. As the New Year approached, Gottbaum found it increasingly difficult to contact Senators by phone, and he was reduced to analyzing the situation through daily snap polls. Atalas began the month with an approval rating of 44 percent, with 52 percent of the public stating that the President should be retained in office. These numbers held steady during the Christmas shopping season, when most of the electorate was too preoccupied to focus on the upcoming trial, but they slipped steadily as the month progressed. By December 26, approval was down to 38 percent and 54 percent felt the President should be convicted. At that point it was fair to say that the case was being tried in the press, and most of the media had lost sympathy for Atalas.

  “Damn,” said Bull Caldwell on December 22, on a phone call with Senator Bob Insfield. “Either I’m a greased duck, or this is the most inscrutable thing I’ve ever seen. Nobody knows where the bodies are buried here.”

  “I have to assume a lot of us are waiting for Lupin,” said Insfield, “and he’s not talking. If anybody could get a reading on what his plans are, it would make the decision much easier.”

  “Bet your sweet patootie on that, Bob. How are you leanin’?”

  “I’m inclined toward conviction—but again, I don’t want to hand the White House over to Lupin.”

  “Things could be worse.”

  “Of course, they could.” Insfield chuckled. “You could be his Vice President.”

  “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, bubba. They’re not lettin’ me near that party.”

  Representative Edward Lupin (R-Minn.), the Speaker of the House, was indeed the most important player in this drama. According to the Presidential Succession Act of 1947, the Speaker was third in line behind the Vice President in case of the President’s death, incapacity or removal from office. Directly behind him was Chet Wallko, President Pro Tempore of the Senate. Lupin was undergoing treatment for prostate cancer, and it was unknown whether he would be willing or able to take office in case of a conviction. Despite being followed by dozens of reporters during every waking moment, the Speaker offered no clues. He emerged from his Capitol Hill townhouse each morning, waved cheerfully to the camera crews staking out his house, and went about his business with the imperturbability of a Buddha.

  “Buenas noches,” said Chet Wallko as he walked through the White House kitchen.

  “Buenas, señor!” The dishwasher grinned. “Cómo está?”

  “Muy bien, gracias.”

  “I wasn’t aware that you spoke Spanish,” said Bob Insfield.

  “Three years in high school. That’s about all I remember.”

  They followed the military guard through the bowels of the building toward the West Wing. When they got to the Oval Office, the guard opened the door and stood at attention. Khaleem Atalas was waiting for them.

  “Evening, guys.” He gestured toward the sitting area. “Let’s be comfortable. Thanks for coming.”

  “Whatever we can do, sir,” said Insfield. The two Senators sat down on the sofa facing the President. “I imagine you want our best sense of the situation.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We’re not whips,” said Wallko. “We can’t claim to have the head count.”

  “Well, you know more than I do.”

  The two men glanced at each other.

  “It’s not good, sir,” said Wallko. “I’d say you’re very close to having eighteen Democratic votes for conviction. I can’t tell you for sure, but my sense is that it’s right on the edge.”

  The President grinned. “So you’re the lynching party?”

  “You could say we’re the bearers of bad news.”

  “What about you, Bob? Do you agree with Chet?”

  “As he said, we’re not whips. But I think he’s on target.”

  “These eighteen Democrats,” said Atalas. “They don’t mind removing one of their own from office and risking a Republican takeover? What about you guys? Are you in that group?”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Insfield.

  “And this doesn’t bother you, even in principle?”

  “What bothers me in principle,” said Wallko, “is how this whole thing was handled. I’m no Boy Scout, and I don’t even play one on TV. But I am an attorney, and I can’t look people in the eye and tell them that I support disregarding the law.”

  “I see.” The President stared out the window, and the two Senators waited. “What about Selma? What about the protests over the war in Vietnam? They were violating the law, and yet most people today would say they were morally right.”

  “Maybe they were,” said Wallko. “But some people were arrested back then, and others were killed. That’s the chance you take.”

  “So your educated guess is I’m not going to make it?”

  “We can’t say for sure,” said Insfield. “The question is whether you want to chance it.”

  “The real question,” said Wallko, “is whether you want to put yourself and the country through this. Say you pull an Andrew Johnson and squeak by with a margin of a vote or two. What do you think the next three years will be like? Is it really worth it?”

  “On top of that,” said Insfield, “what’s it really going to accomplish? The Repatriation Act is law, sir. The immigrants are going back. You have to ask yourself if you want to burn at the stake for them?”

  “They wouldn’t let me play Joan of Arc in high school.” The President’s grin showed all his teeth. “Must’ve been that biracial thing.”

  Insfield forced a smile. “With all due respect, sir, this is pretty serious.”

  “Of course, it is.” Atalas leaned forward earnestly. “I’m trying to safeguard the asylum seekers. Justice tells me there could be as many as 12,000 of them.”

  “Then why don’t you send the rest of them back, and just keep the asylum seekers here until their stories can be verified?” asked Insfield.

  “We’re way beyond that now, Bob,” said Wallko.

  The President nodded. “So it appears. I guess this is a classic case of no good deed going unpunished. Mendoza obviously wants my head on a spike.” He looked at Wallko. “What’s the bottom line here, Chet?”

  “I think it’s time to go, sir. For your sake and everyone else’s.”

  Atalas walked to the window and looked out at the South Lawn. The two Senators waited in silence.

  “I’m not going until I hear what Lupin is going to do,” he said finally.

  “I’ll sound him out,” said Wallko. “I can talk to him.”

  “If he thinks
he’s going to stage a palace coup, I’m going to ride this out. Make sure he understands that.”

  Chapter 46

  Wallko made the call the following evening.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” said the Speaker. “In fact, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from you thus far.”

  “I’m not much on small talk, as you know. But it’s crunch time, Eddie—what are you going to do?”

  “I’m deeply conflicted. I never wanted the job, or I would have run for it.”

  “That goes for the two of us. Who the hell needs that aggravation?”

  “To be honest, I don’t think I’m up for it. I’ll be in treatment for the next year or so, and I’m likely to be fatigued. The White House isn’t a place where you want to be fatigued.”

  “What’s your prognosis?”

  “It’s hard to get anything concrete. When I ask, I get the standard line: with the proper care, the chances are good I could live another ten years. But that assumes a normal stress level, of course.”

  “Better than I would have thought.”

  “Absolutely, and better than I had expected. But on the other side of all this, there are the political factors.”

  “True.”

  “No matter what happens, we’ve got an unelected President on our hands, which circumvents the public’s right to choose their leader. And don’t tell me that you won’t run for election after you serve out the rest of Atalas’s term—by then, you’ll be so in love with the situation that you’ll never want to leave. No one is without ego.”

  “That’s if I even make it three years. Some responsible citizen will probably shoot me.”

  “Hopefully not, but consider this: If you take office now, you have the option of running for a full term.”

  “God forbid.”

  “You never know. What’s certain on my end, though, is that I’ll be ousted as Speaker.”

  “I doubt that. You were just reelected.”

  “They’ll call another election and toss me out, and deservedly so. I can barely do the job now, to be honest—I’m only still there out of sympathy. But if I hand the White House over to you, the Tea Party guys will be out for blood.”

  “All right,” said Wallko. “How about this: I’ll promise you that I won’t run. But you have to issue a statement now, for everyone’s sake. There’s no point in prolonging this.”

  “I’m sure you’ll change your mind when the time comes,” he said after a long pause. “But I’ll do it. I’d have to do it eventually, so there’s no reason to stall.”

  “If I were you, I’d go back to Minnesota and play with my grandchildren.”

  “Not me. I’m going to stay in the House.” He chuckled. “I’m not a quitter, Chet. I’m no Khaleem Atalas.”

  Citing Health Concerns, Speaker Lupin Removes Himself From Line of Succession

  By Kenneth Jablonksi, National Editor

  January 2

  Rep. Edward Lupin (R-Minn.), the Speaker of the House, announced yesterday that he would not serve as President if called upon to do so after the Senate impeachment trial of Khaleem Atalas.

  In a terse and carefully worded statement, Lupin put an end to speculation as to what might occur in the wake of that trial should the President be convicted. Here is the text of his announcement:

  “My fellow Americans: As you know, the U.S. Senate is getting ready to begin the impeachment trial of President Atalas. Many of you are concerned about the outcome of that trial, and some are wondering what could happen if the Senate votes to remove the President from office.

  “Since there is currently no Vice President, the Speaker of the House is directly in line to assume the duties of the office if the President is removed. For most of the past year, I have been undergoing treatment for prostate cancer. While my outlook is encouraging, the treatments often leave me weak and tired. I feel that I would not be able to devote my full energies to the office of the Presidency, should it come to me in the course of events. Therefore, I am removing myself from the line of succession.

  “Partisanship obviously played no role in my deliberations, since my decision means that Chester Wallko would become President in the wake of a conviction. I’ve known Senator Wallko for many years, and have always admired his intelligence, vision, and patriotism. At a time like this, there are no Democrats or Republicans. There are only Americans. This is a time for the citizens of this great country to unite, as I know they will.

  “I wish you a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year.”

  While not unexpected, Speaker Lupin’s announcement was yet another twist in a political year full of surprises. Officials in both parties are still trying to make sense of the President’s decision to grant amnesty to the immigrants detained on the U.S.-Mexico border, even as the public attempts to absorb the swift and dizzying chain of events that have sprung from that decision.

  Senator Wallko could not be reached for comment, and his office issued an equally terse reaction:

  “Edward Lupin is a true patriot. We admire his selfless actions and wish him a speedy recovery.”

  Chapter 47

  On January 4, President Atalas asked for television time to address the nation. When the cameras zoomed in on him in the Oval Office, he looked somber and haggard.

  “My fellow Americans, I come before you tonight to talk to you about a matter of great national importance.

  “I’m sure most of you are aware of the chain of events that have led up to this moment, so I won’t go into them in detail now. For the past year, the news has been dominated by the refugee crisis. My response to that calamity is what has brought us to this point. I’m sure you’re also aware that the Senate is scheduled to begin their impeachment trial four days from now. Before I tell you about my decision concerning that trial, I want to share some of the emotions and reasoning that went into making that decision.

  “My entire life has been devoted to defending the underdog, because I was an underdog myself: the biracial son of an immigrant couple who came to this country in search of a better life. My background has motivated everything I’ve done in my career, because I felt a special responsibility to protect people who were unable to defend themselves against the tyranny of the state. I felt an obligation to defend their rights, so I’ve worked as a community organizer, pro bono attorney and public servant. Throughout all of those experiences, I’ve always been on the side of those who were less fortunate, who didn’t have some of the opportunities that this great country granted to some of us.

  “The refugees currently detained on the U.S.-Mexico border are not criminals, regardless of what the law may state. They are human beings who came to this country to avoid poverty and violence, and to provide greater opportunity for their children. The Congress has passed legislation requiring me to deport them, and I have refused to do so. After being unable to seek redress in the courts, that same Congress has accused me of high crimes and misdemeanors and demanded my removal from office.

  “If we have come to a point in this country where defending the rights of the less fortunate has become a high crime and misdemeanor, then I cannot continue to serve that system. Throughout my lifetime, I have seen noble and selfless acts of civil disobedience. I witnessed the struggle of Martin Luther King Jr. for civil rights, and I grieved over his death. I joined in the protests against an unjust and unnecessary war in Southeast Asia. Time and time again, I have realized that in moments of moral crisis, it is imperative that individuals do what is right.

  “In this situation, the right thing to do is very simple. We have a moral obligation to accept the immigrants detained on the border and integrate them into our society, as generations of immigrants before them have been assimilated. However, the Congress and the judicial system refuse to do that. I believe they are wrong, and I firmly believe that history will view me as correct.

  “The
refore, I have refused to accept the mandate to send the immigrants back, and I will not be judged for taking a position I view as morally justified. I will step down from the Presidency at noon on Thursday. Senator Chester Wallko is next in the line of succession, according to the Constitution, and he will be sworn in at that day and time in this office.

  “To my many supporters, I urge you to harbor no bitterness at this turn of events and give Senator Wallko the prayers he will need to succeed. To those who disagree with me, I offer my forgiveness.

  “Thank you for your time this evening. God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.”

  Chapter 48

  Shortly after 8:00 a.m., President Chet Wallko relaxed on a sofa in the Oval Office. He hated the Resolute Desk. It makes me look like a pompous ass, rather than the coach potato I really am, he thought. And thus, he had used it exactly three times during his first month. Linda Buckmeister, his Chief of Staff, sat on the sofa opposite him.

  “So what excitement do I have to look forward to this morning?”

  “You have the CIA briefing at nine. Homeland Security will come by around ten to discuss the situation on the border. At eleven, Vice President Insfield is going to report on the Youth Opportunity Initiative. After that, you’re free as a bee until 2:00 p.m., when the Prime Minister of Japan is scheduled to visit.”

  “Great. Maybe I can sneak out for a shot and a beer.”

  “Good luck.”

  “What’s happening with the detainees? How are we coming along with the deportations?”

  “I’m not updated on the precise details.”

  “Give me the overview.”