by John Price
“Well, then, Chuck, your job, as you sit next to me at the witness table, is to make sure that I don’t lie to Congress.
“How do you propose, exactly, that I accomplish that task? I can’t take back your words once they exit your pie hole.”
“If I come even close to an untruth, kick my ankle, elbow my ribs or just write indictable statement on your legal pad. However you nudge me, I’ll get the message, and try to undig my way out of the hole. But, I’m not….not…going to plead the Fifth. Frankly, Chuck, I’d rather get indicted for federal crimes than to tell the nation at the hearing that I refuse to answer questions about the shootings, and make it look like I was involved, even though I knew absolutely nothing about the shootings before the shots were fired.”
“Well stated, John, but you may just get your wish. You won’t look guilty – but you may find yourself guilty, anyway.”
TWENTY TWO
Washington, DC
With each day Hilde was increasingly committed to removing the President from office in order to begin the healing of America. She had reluctantly concluded that she would have to take action. There was no other way, she now firmly believed, to spare the nation from an armed insurrection in which its many still-armed citizens assaulted the Executive Mansion and ripped the fabric of the Republic asunder. She knew that her ascension to power would be accepted, gratefully, by the leaders of her own political party, especially in Congress, men and women who had long ago quietly withdrawn their support from their party’s standard bearer. They were just as frightened as Hilde of what was happening to America.
But, how to accomplish the historical deed? Wilbur, bless his soul, was no help, as he continued to slumber in his blissful coma. Truth be told, she thought, I never really needed Wilbur and his advice as much as he needed mine. All of her years of education, and political experience, and work in the deep political trenches of governing from the White House with Wilbur, and the Senate, and in the Cabinet, convinced her that this President would only resign under intense pressure. Pressure that convinced him that he had no real choice. That he would have to go to avoid a greater harm. OK. So how should I apply the pressure, she pondered,? How to make it happen?
Ultimately, Hilde, as a lawyer, knew that she would have to use the Twenty-Fifth Amendment to the Constitution. She had been a lower level federal employee in Washington when the Amendment had been adopted. Hilde was well acquainted with the fourth section of the Amendment which provided for the removal of a President from office if the Vice President and a majority of the Cabinet agreed that the occupant of the Oval Office was unable to perform the powers and duties of “his” office. ‘Sexist pigs’, she thought. It should have been written to say ‘powers and duties of his or her’ office, but no matter, it would work for “his” removal, she concluded.
Hilde knew that she had more friends in the Cabinet than the President himself. She could only name three members of the Cabinet who were appointed because of their close personal relationship with the President. The rest were the usual suspects, Washington insiders who had served under Wilbur’s administration, or even in one case, an appointee of Jimmy Carter. Hilde knew how to schmooze with others, a talent that the President seemed not to have learned. She spoke with most Cabinet members more frequently than their boss, leading her to believe that the Cabinet was made up of political animals with whom she could work to remove the President from office. They had to be just as worried as she was about what was happening in America’s streets. Martial law? What have we come to, she frequently asked herself.
What she needed now, Hilde mused after a particularly bloody report from Michigan came to her ears, was a plan. It wouldn’t do to just start contacting Cabinet members recruiting signators to remove the President. Word would leak within minutes of her first few calls. This was DC, after all. The Cabinet, what the Twenty-Fifth Amendment called the principal officers of the executive department, consisted of fifteen members. So, besides her own signature, she would need a minimum of eight signatures in order to remove the President from his power and duties.
It could only happen in one way – at a Cabinet meeting, with almost no warning, except to a trusted few. As she arrived at that decision, though, it occurred to her that she would have to have at least two or three Cabinet members to support what she was doing, to be vocal in demanding that it happen, to backstop her. To pull off that critical component of her plan, she reluctantly concluded, she would have to tell her two or three closest allies on the Cabinet what was about to happen, but only hours, maybe just a few minutes before the actual meeting. Any more time than that extended greatly the chance of a leak.
The next Cabinet meeting was Tuesday morning the following week at 10 AM. This President didn’t like Cabinet meetings very much. He wasn’t comfortable with management of large organizations, as he had no prior management experience of any type. As a consequence, he convened them only infrequently. The meeting of the Cabinet could be the last time the Cabinet convened for several weeks, or months. Thus, Hilde knew that the time to act was upon her. So, she wondered, who to call? Who to call first? And just as important, when to make the calls?
TWENTY THREE
Washington, DC – Russell Senate Office Building
“Would the witness please stand and be sworn?”
With these time-honored words directed to John Madison, United States Senator James R. Blevins commenced what Washington loved best, the blood sport of reputation assassination via Congressional hearings. This Committee hearing, as Senator Blevins had previously announced, was being held the next day after Congress convened in January in the historic Senate Caucus Room on the third floor of the Russell Senate Office Building, one of three buildings occupied by Senators for their Senatorial offices. The United States Senate Committee on the Judiciary, one of twenty standing Committees, consisted of ten Democrats and eight Republicans.
None of the eighteen Committee members were smiling. All knew that the mainstream media had decided to extensively cover the hearing, most airing the testimony live. It was political high drama show time. John Madison stood from behind the glass-topped witness table, on which were a bevy of microphones all pointed towards him, and raised his right hand. He swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but added “so help me God” at the end, even though the oath as given to him omitted those four words, and had not included the words for several years.
Senator Blevins, in his purposely emphasized low country South Carolinian accent, made it clear he was not amused. “Fine, Mr. Madison, y’all want to add y’alls’ own words to our o-fficial oath, that’s just fine. Ya may need all the help you can get from your version of God before this proceedin’ has concluded. I see ya got ya lawyer here today. Care to introduce ya man?”
“Certainly, Senator, Members of the Committee, I’m joined today by my attorney and lifelong friend, Chuck Webster. He’s a graduate of Har….”
“That’ll be enough, Mr. Madison. He’s identified for the record, we are not in need of his resume. Let’s move ahead, now. Mr. Madison, before we take y’all’s testimony, the several Members of this U-nited States Senate Committee on the Judiciary are granted the opportunity to make openin’ statements. Mine, suh, will be brief and to the point…..
“I don’t believe that individual citizens should ever have the right to own anythin’ that can be used, suh, to kill folks. I believed this before some dang fool right winger shot me in Dallas, but I’m even more of that belief and persuasion now, of course. I know all about what y’all scream about when it comes to any restrictions on ya precious guns, ya fire-arms. The Second Amendment. The Second Amendment. It’s ya mantra, ya holy grail.
“In these here hearings we all gonna’ look real close at your holy grail words, study ‘em real close up like. America’s gonna’ see that the Second Amendment don’t even come close to sayin’ what y’all been sayin’ what it says. We gonna’ have a number of expert academic legal schola
rs to testify that the Second Amendment don’t mean what it says….that is, it don’t mean what it seems to say…., uh, it don’t mean what it seems like it means….oh, well, you get my idea here. The scholars are gonna’ tell us, I understand, that this Congress can clear up the con-fusion in the Amendment real well, by just passin’ the McAlister Hate Weapons Elimination Bill. And, also, my bill will put some teeth in the Hate Crimes Act, to prohibit hateful speech that leads to violence. No more need in this here country for any more martial law declarations. Simple as that. I promised this’d be short. Uh….Let’s see here. Uh, yes, I recognize the ranking member for his openin’ statement, the distinguished gentleman from Idaho, Senator Remington.”
Senator Sam Remington had served in the U.S. Senate longer than all but two other Senators. In his several years of service in the Senate he had become known as a man who did not suffer fools gladly. He had long ago decided that Senator Blevins from South Carolina was, as he had said privately, ‘all blow, and no go’. Senator Remington had voted on nearly every bill of importance directly opposite the votes cast by Senator Blevins. Since the senior Senator from Idaho was a rancher and hunter, he was less than enthusiastic about Senator Blevins’ bill to take away his right to own and possess the several firearms he maintained at his ranch. It was widely known that for decades he had hosted in his office a weekly Tuesday night poker game for his western Senate colleagues.
As ranking member of the Committee on the Judiciary, Senator Remington was in a position to become Chairman, should control of the Senate revert to the Republican Party. Unfortunately for Senator Remington, control did not vest in the Republican Party after the election. A bit salty, Senator Remington had said that being the Committee’s ranking member was about like being Vice President, but without all the fun funerals to attend. He knew that his brief opening statement wouldn’t be long remembered, but that it could help set the tone for the hearings on the McAlister Bill, though the outcome of which Senate hearings there did not appear to be much doubt.
“Chairman Blevins, distinguished members of the Committee on the Judiciary, my remarks will also be limited. We all know why we are here. We all know that the McAlister Bill is designed and crafted to be an end-run around the U.S. Constitution. The majority may have the votes to pass this bill, but they don’t have the votes to do it the right way, the legal way, the honest way. They don’t have enough support in the country to amend the Constitution and take away the right to keep and bear arms, nor enough votes to legally take away the right of free speech, even if its controversial speech. If they didn’t have the occupant of the White House and if they didn’t have what may well be a majority of the Court that sets across the plaza from us, we wouldn’t be here today. They wouldn’t try to statutorily amend our nation’s founding document, except for one man at 1600 and one new Justice across the plaza. Wouldn’t happen.
“But, in my years working on this hill I’ve learned that you play the cards you’re dealt. So, Mr. Chairman, members of the Committee, let’s play this high stakes game out. Let’s see if you’ve got enough votes in the House. It’s clear McAlister will pass this body. We know that the President will sign the bill into law, if you’ve got the votes in the House. How will the new Justice across the plaza vote? Flip those cards up and let’s see if Americans can continue to speak freely, and continue to keep and bear arms, or, alternatively, if we’re going to lose those precious rights. Are we going to stay under martial law even if the bill becomes law? Let’s see who’s got the votes. Deal ‘em, Mr. Chairman, deal ‘em.”
The other members of the Committee on the Judiciary delivered their opening statements, alternating between Democrat and Republican members. There were no surprises, as the Members had declared well before the hearings where they stood on the McAlister Bill, and how they intended to vote. At the conclusion of the opening statements, Chairman Blevins declared a short recess, which actually was brief, as everybody in the vast hearing room was anxious for the blood sport to begin. It was time to watch the Committee ‘Grill the Witness’
Senator Blevins wheeled back to his position and loudly banged his gavel, calling the hearing back in session, “Mr. Madison, suh, my staff’s report on ya, Mr. Madison, and the information provided to our Committee by various federal law enforcement agencies, tells me that ya were a very active Texan in the campaign that just concluded last November, about nine weeks ago. Would ya agree, Mr. Madison that ya worked almost full time in the campaign to defeat our incumbent President and to deny him, I might say, his well-earned second term?”
Chuck Webster had warned his client about compound and loaded questions, so he was ready for the Senator’s initial jab. “Senator, let me take the various parts of your question. First, I was not a full time, as you say, campaigner in last year’s campaign. I have a job as an executive officer of an insurance company, so what I did in the…..”
“Come on, now Mr. Madison. Ya gonna tell this Committee, this Congress, under oath, that ya weren’t active in the campaign, even though ya gave over, I hear, a hundred or so speeches?”
John Madison instinctively bristled at having his words misinterpreted. In practice sessions in Tyler, the local county prosecutor that Chuck Webster had recruited to help prep his client for the hearing had done exactly the same thing – make it sound like he was lying, when he wasn’t. So he was ready for the Senator.
“With all due respect, Senator Blevins, I gave forty some speeches, best I can recall. I did not work full-time, though I was active in the campaign. I was merely exercising my First Amend….”
“Fine, Mr. Madison, just fine, we’re not here today to hear lectures on ancient documents. No sirree, we are here to talk about guns and hate speech…so, Mr. Madison, let’s talk first about --- your guns. How many guns ya own and or possess, Mr. Madison, and I remind ya, ya’re under oath.”
“Senator, it’s hardly relevant how many guns I may or may not…”
“Suh, ya lawyer there sittin’ by ya will tell ya that relevancy is our call, not ya all’s call. Now answer my question, if ya would be so kind – and listen carefully to what I asked ya – how many guns do ya own and or possess?”
Attorney Webster leaned over to his client, cupping his hand around his ear, and gave him hurried advice. John Madison frowned slightly, started to whisper to his attorney, apparently had second thoughts, then addressed the Chairman. “Mr. Chairman, I own two handguns, and also a rifle, a shotgun and an antique long rifle, alleged to be from the Revolutionary War, that had passed down through the family to my father before he died.”
“Is that all, Mr. Madison? Sounds like ya got yaself a veritable arsenal there. Ya worried about somethin? Or someone? “
“Senator, in Texas, and I think in lots of areas of the country mine would not be an unusually high number of weapons for self-protection and as part of a collection.” Webster flinched slightly, a movement picked up by his client, causing him to raise his guard for how the Senator would likely respond.
“Self-protection? Is that what ya said, Mr.Madison? Self protection? When was the last time you shot somebody comin’ in ya house? Is that what you intend to do, Mr. Madison, shoot people that come in ya house? Ya call shootin’ people just ‘cause they might drop by ya house self-protection? Ya make me sick, Mr. Madison, sick with fear that people like ya want to hang onto ya many guns….It’s the law-abidin’ citizens of this country that need to be protected against ya, and all ya many hate weapons….I….I’m so….why, ya just…”
A Senate staff member hustled forward and handed a note to the Chairman, whose face had visibly reddened. He glanced at the note, banged his gavel loudly and announced, “We’ll take a brief recess, I’ve got a call from the President that I need to return.” A wire service photographer with access in the Committee room casually walked up during the recess and read the note that the Chairman had left after reading it at his seat at the committee table. It read “SENATOR – GOOD TIME TO CALL A RECESS.”
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nbsp; TWENTY FOUR
The Residence of the Vice President
Naval Observatory, Washington, DC
It was Friday afternoon. The weather was briskly cold. The ground was partially frozen, with a dusting of snow. As the historic grandfather’s clock in the foyer of the Vice President’s residence struck four P.M. the Vice President swallowed the balance of her second glass of Chardonnay and picked up the phone in her paneled office. It was time.
“Sarah. It’s Hilde.”
“Hilde….that is, Madam Vice President….how good to hear from you. To what do I owe the privilege on this cold February afternoon?”
“It is cold, Sarah, I’ve never been a fan of DC Februarys. I was doing some reading….looking at some reports from around the country….some disturbing things….and….I wondered if you had anything on your schedule for tomorrow morning? Maybe coffee at ten? Here at the Naval Observatory residence?”
“Sure, Hilde, I was just going to the gym at the agency in the morning, I can join you for coffee at the residence. Make sure you alert the guards, remember the last time I came over, they didn’t have my name. Or, if you’d rather, we could meet at your office in the White House, or your other office in the Old Executive Office Building. Your choice.”
“Sorry, Sarah, about the gate issue. It’s been fixed…. and uh….I’d rather meet here, not down at the White House, or even next door at the Eisenhower Building. Just a private behind closed doors meeting would be best. Just the two of us.”
“Ooh, well, OK, now you have my full attention, Hilde. You know I’m always up for palace intrigue, because….”
“Sarah, let’s not use that phrase, OK? I’ll see you at 10 AM.”
As promised, Sarah Sahale, Director of the Office of Management and Budget, was quickly cleared through security at the entry gate of the Naval Observatory. She drove herself up the hill to the Vice Presidential Residence. The Vice President was waiting for her guest in her formal sitting room, which had been swept for electronic bugs just the day before. One couldn’t be too careful, she had concluded, especially with a subject like the one she was about to spring on her best friend in the Cabinet. The Vice President had given her friend the triple explicit admonition that she could not, absolutely must not, divulge to any living soul what the Vice President was about to tell her.
