Rule of Law

by J. L. Brown

  Whitney wanted to chastise the veteran reporter. In public. Hold a press conference. There were more important things going on in this country than digging into her past: homelessness, economic insecurity, inequity, racial injustice.

  Judy knew that. A competent reporter, she was well-respected in the journalistic and political community.

  Judy could become a problem.

  Meanwhile, the numerous protests across the country were still not enough to convince Congress to consider, much less pass, Whitney’s legislation.

  Frustrated, Whitney needed a Plan B.

  She called Sean, already at the office. “Schedule a meeting with Evan Stevens. Today.”

  *

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Did I have the option to refuse?”

  “Of course. This isn’t Communist Russia or Nazi Germany.”

  “Sometimes, I’m not so sure.”

  Evan Stevens glanced down at the badge sporting a red-letter A clipped to his black turtleneck shirt. “The Scarlet Letter?”

  “That depends. Have you sinned?”

  “The day’s still early.”

  Sarah placed a tea service on the coffee table.

  “Thank you, Sarah,” Whitney said.

  Sarah poured tea for them and left.

  Evan picked up his cup. “You called this meeting.”

  “These protests,” she said. “What are your thoughts about them?”

  Evan sipped his tea and then placed the cup and saucer on the thigh of his jeans, his legs crossed. “People are frustrated, Madam President. Wealth is concentrated at the top. The rest of us are working harder for the same or less money. The cost of living is far outpacing wages. Since the founding of this country, the American Dream was never as attainable as the American people were led to believe, and now, even less so.”

  “What’s the solution?”

  “I’ve read your New New Deal plan. I like it. I think it will help. Do I think it will be enough? No.”

  “What would you do differently?”

  “Are you familiar with the works of Thomas Paine?”

  She smiled and nodded at the rhetorical question.

  “Paine advocated that citizens should receive a basic income whether they work or not. Some of our manufacturing jobs are never coming back. They’ve been automated. A universal basic income would remove the stigma of welfare for the long-term unemployed and combat poverty and social inequality.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “For Paine, it wasn’t about fairness. It was about equality. Natural rights.”

  “I stand corrected. Please continue.”

  “I would also peg CEO compensation to a multiple of the lowest-earning employees’ wages, remove the cap on the Social Security tax, and provide universal childcare and pre-K so that parents can work, and tuition-free college so that our children can enter adulthood debt-free.”

  “I see you haven’t thought about this.” Whitney sipped her tea. “A lot of those reforms won’t be popular. CEOs aren’t going to go along quietly.”

  “Corporate profits are at an all-time high. The ratio of wages to profits is at its lowest level in over fifty years. It’s not sustainable. The workers will revolt.”

  “And you’re going to help them?”

  Evan set his cup and saucer on the table. “I’m just a blogger.”

  Whitney smiled. “And I’m just a bureaucrat. The cost for universal college education alone would be upwards of sixty billion dollars. How would I ever get that through Congress?”

  “We spend sixty-nine billion on subsidies. Universal college may be a bargain.” He leaned forward in earnest. “Only thirty percent of students enrolled in college today will graduate. How many more would graduate in four years—instead of the current average of six—if they didn’t need to work?

  “Unemployment would be reduced, state funding could be used for other pressing needs, and there would be fewer people on public assistance.” Evan’s eyes shone with an intensity that bordered on the maniacal. “Students who graduate from college, on average, make more than a million dollars over their lifetimes than those who don’t. Highly educated people are happier and healthier. It’s harder for our students to compete with those countries who offer free education, like Germany, Finland, and Norway. Some US states spend more money funding their prison system than education.”

  She and Sasha had discussed and dismissed universal college education, but his unwavering passion stirred something within her. She recognized it. The same passion that had driven her to enter politics in the first place. Back then, she was going to change the world. Start a revolution. Like Emma.

  “The other party will say that students should have some skin in the game. I am inclined to agree with them. Those students would benefit the most from a free education.”

  Evan waved away this detail. “I’m not just talking about a more educated workforce, but an educated citizenry. So, that when we discuss issues like climate change there will no longer be a debate about whether it exists, but the more important question: what are we going to do about it?”

  “Spending all that money on education, during a time of pervasive homelessness and a crumbling infrastructure . . . That’s a tough sell.”

  Evan’s eyes blazed. “I don’t think you’re listening, Madam President. Outstanding student loans total over one-point-four trillion dollars. A higher education is almost out of reach for the poor and now some of the middle class. We must do this.” Abruptly, Evan relaxed and offered her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I get worked up about this stuff. Look. Almost half of the members of Congress are millionaires. They’re out of touch with the rest of us. They don’t know what it’s like to struggle. To live paycheck to paycheck. There’s other alternatives. We could tax pollution. Carbon emissions. Raise taxes on the wealthy.”

  “That too should go over well,” Whitney said.

  Evan’s eyes flared again. “There’s a benefit from being born in this country. Taxation is a responsibility and a privilege of citizenship.”

  “I don’t think a lot of people see it that way.”

  “Well, they should.”

  They discussed his ideas for another ten minutes. She placed her cup on the table. “If we don’t pass my legislation or implement your ideas, what do you think will happen?”

  “Capitalism leads to greater and greater levels of income inequality. The United States has reached a level at which soon it will be unable to function. Historically, when inequality increases unabated, something horrible happens. The Great Depression. The Great Recession.” Evan stared at her, unblinking. “This time, I predict there will be a Civil War. But it will not be a war between the states. Between the North and the South.

  “No. It will be a war between the wealthy and everyone else.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Arlington, Virginia

  After dropping Dante and Micah off at the Bureau, Jade drove home. Her phone rang. Christian.

  “How’s Mark?”

  “He’s okay. The ribs are healing. He goes back to school tomorrow. They’re beefing up student patrols in the hallways. Not sure how much good it’ll do. How did the interview go?”

  “The dad believes the son was bullied. The mother doesn’t believe it or doesn’t want to believe it.”

  “Well, if their son was a bully, then he got what he deserved.”

  “Christian,” Jade said. A warning.

  “I’m serious. This has got to stop.”

  “We don’t know if it was the same killer. Different MO.”

  “What I said still stands.”

  “Justice isn’t served by some vigilante knocking off teenage bullies. There’s the rule of law. Our job is to uphold it, by the way.”

  “At this point, I don’t care how it’s upheld.”

  Jade understood why someone would want to take the law into his own hands. It’s how she would feel if someone hurt someone she loved. But the legal s
ystem of this country was built on the rule of law principle. That we are a nation governed by laws, not the arbitrary decisions of individuals. Vigilantes assumed the role of police officer, judge, jury, and in this case, executioner. She believed vigilantism had no place in a civilized society.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “An eye for an eye. It’s in the Bible.”

  She closed her eyes at his words. “Then we’d all be blind.”

  Parked in front of her townhouse for the last few minutes of their conversation, Jade watched her neighbors arrive home from work and enter their houses, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside the car. Inside her.

  He had lost all objectivity.

  “Christian?”

  “Yeah?”

  With reluctance, she said, “You’re off the case.”

  *

  Jade returned to the living room of her townhouse with a bag. Eating the delivered pad thai straight from the carton, she chased it with a Tsingtao, the cold beer refreshing after the day she’d had. The week. The month. She was frustrated with her lack of progress on the bullying case, even though officially, she’d only been on it for a day. No progress on the cybertheft case, either, for that matter.

  Oh-for-two.

  She spent some time connecting the PlayStation to the television. At her request, Christian had brought in the system earlier that day. She hoped Mark could live without it for one night. Slipping in the disc, she settled back into the sofa.

  She couldn’t think about Christian now.

  The game’s logo, Bully, filled her screen. Never much of a video-game player, like some of her teammates back in college, it took her some time to figure out the instructions and how to navigate the controls to do what she wanted.

  The name of the game brought back memories. Childhood memories she would rather forget.

  Her phone rang.

  Pat spoke without preamble. “The death of Rep. Steven Barrett wasn’t an accident. Someone tampered with his brakes. He didn’t stand a chance going around that curve.”

  “Why didn’t the detectives discover this at the time?”

  “They should’ve.”

  “Anything else? Anything on the aunt?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Thanks.” Jade hung up.

  Who would gain from Barrett’s death? Fairchild wasn’t assured of winning the election for the seat to replace him. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Fairchild. It could’ve been Barrett’s wife, a disgruntled husband, or an unhappy constituent. She made a mental note to call the local detective on the case tomorrow.

  Glancing around her living room, the word “minimalist” sprang to mind. She had remarked that Kyle’s office was bereft of tombstones, but Jade’s home, too, displayed no evidence of her past glories.

  Back to the game. The objective was for a teenager, involuntarily enrolled in a boarding school filled with bullies, to bring peace to the school and the town. Who would want to play this game for fun?

  Based on her research of the game’s sales, a lot of people.

  An hour in, she was hooked.

  The still half-full carton of Thai food rested on the wooden coffee table, ignored, as she negotiated teenage cliques, completed missions, attended classes, and used a wide variety of weapons to vanquish her opponents. She wondered, briefly, whether William Chaney-Frost was like the protagonist or one of the bullies.

  She played until well past midnight. Being as competitive as she was, by the end of the night, she had become quite good at Bully. She didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  She did, though, have trouble falling asleep that night.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Fairfax, Virginia

  There is nothing sadder than the funeral of a child.

  Jade stood with Dante and Micah, away from the grieving family and friends, as Joshua Stewart was laid to rest at Fairfax Memorial Park. Earlier, the clouds, dark and ominous, threatened the gathered mourners with a thunderstorm, but a light rain had fallen instead during the service. Now, as if cognizant of the occasion, the sky cleared and the sun appeared, as the procession made its way to the cemetery. The park, with its rolling hills and impeccable landscaping, was peaceful. It turned out to be a beautiful day.

  Most of the mourners had journeyed here from the church. A dozen teenage boys stood together, wearing their best black suits. Suits that were getting a lot of wear lately. A few of them were pallbearers, including William Chaney-Frost. Jade recognized some of them from interviews at the school.

  From behind dark oversized sunglasses, she catalogued each of the attendees in her mind. After offering her condolences to Joshua’s parents, she inclined her head to the car, signaling to Dante and Micah that it was time to go.

  “Agent Harrington!”

  She turned, expecting William, but it was one of the other boys she had interviewed. She allowed her mental Rolodex to come up with his name. “Andrew.”

  “Yeah.”

  The boy was larger than his teammates. He glimpsed over his shoulder at the still-gathered mourners. “There’s something we—I—didn’t tell you.”

  She waited.

  “Something’s going on with our team.” He looked over his shoulder again. “It’s gotten out of hand.”

  “What is it?”

  “One of our best players, Sam, is going to quit because of it.”

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  William called out to him.

  Andrew’s eyes widened. “I gotta go.”

  “Andrew, how did you get those scratches on your face?”

  Although Joshua’s casket was closed, Jade read in his autopsy report that he’d had stitches removed over one eyebrow. The injury his mother said he received from colliding with a door.

  Andrew mumbled something, eyes imploring her of—something—before he took off running up the hill.

  William seemed to chew him out before smiling and waving at her.

  She didn’t wave back.

  “What did Andrew say?” Dante asked.

  “Not sure. It sounded like ‘age,’” she said.

  “That kid was scared to death,” said Micah.

  “I think we need to take a closer look at Mr. William Chaney-Frost,” she said. She turned to Micah. “You game?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  The White House, Washington, DC

  She glanced at the stack of bios of congressmen and congresswomen she needed to convince to support the New New Deal Coalition legislation. Picking up the phone, she started to dial the first name on the list.

  “Do you have a minute?” Sasha asked.

  Whitney hung up and beckoned her in. “Good. You saved me from making these dreaded calls.”

  Sasha sat in the chair across from her. “I found out what Xavi is up to. He’s shopping his own proposal. A competing income-equality plan.”

  “I’m surrounded by Judases. What’s in it?”

  Sasha shook her head. “Don’t know yet. I’m meeting someone later this afternoon to find out.”

  Whitney didn’t bother to ask from whom. If Sasha wanted her to know, she would tell her.

  “He’s receiving some support from the Republicans,” Sasha said. “Hampton, Bell.” She hesitated. “Sampson.”

  “What do they want in return?”

  Always quid pro quo in this political game they played.

  “My source tells me that Xavi promised to work with them on comprehensive illegal-immigration reform,”—Sasha hesitated—“when he becomes president. He’s willing to compromise on some points Hispanics have demanded in the past.”

  Whitney smiled without mirth. “That makes a lot of sense. I don’t think that will be popular with his Hispanic brothers and sisters.”

  Sasha pursed her lips. “I don’t think he worries too much about the welfare of his brothers and sisters. The only person Xavi worries about is Xavi. Are you going to confront him?”

  Whitney knew Xavi’s goal
wasn’t to be president eight years from now. Or four years from now. He wanted her job now.

  “Judas Iscariot purportedly committed suicide. Xavi may do the same.”

  Sasha gave her a questioning look.

  Whitney picked up the phone again to call the first congressman on the list. Before dialing, she said, “Political suicide, of course. What were you thinking?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Fairfax, Virginia

  Baseball players streamed out of the gate that separated the outdoor athletic complex from the school parking lot.

  In ones, twos, and threes, they slowed and gawked at each other at the sight of Jade perched on the front end of her car, one foot on the ground. Micah leaned against the car next to her, looking like a model in his fitted suit and Ray-Ban sunglasses.

  At the end of the pack was William, who broke into a cocky smile. He sauntered over to her. “You two look like a GQ ad for FBI agents. Where’s Howie Long?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. Christian did look like the Hall of Fame defensive end for the Oakland Raiders and NFL commentator.

  “He wishes he could be here.”

  “I bet. He seems to be MIA lately.”

  She didn’t explain it was probably for the best that Christian wasn’t here. She glanced over at the players who were huddled halfway between them and the school. “Nothing to see here!”

  She waited until she saw their backs before turning to William. His uniform was filthy. His face streaked with dirt. His blue and gold baseball cap looked brand new compared to the rest of his uniform. “FC” was written in black magic marker just over the bill.

  “Shouldn’t that be ‘CF’ for Chaney-Frost?”

  “I really need to catch up with my team,” he said.

  “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Keep your face so smooth, while your teammates’ faces are scratched and bruised?”

  He stroked his chin and perched his cleat on her bumper, resting his arms on his thigh. “They’re clumsy?”