The Tenth Justice

“So that’s it?” Eric asked. “You’re done with your search?”

“Not at all,” Ben said, walking up the stairs. “We’re just getting started.”

Chapter 5

“HI, MY NAME IS RICK FAGEN, AND I WAS wondering if you could help me out,” Ben said in his most diplomatic voice. “I recently disco

“What was your old phone number, sir?” After typing in Rick’s old number, the phone company employee said, “Mr. Fagen, you are correct. We still don’t have a forwarding address for you. If you’ll give me your new address, we’ll be happy to send you a duplicate bill.”

“That’d be great,” Ben said. “My new address is Post Office Box 1227, Washington, D.C. 20037.”

“Mr. Fagen, you should receive this bill in the next few weeks,” the employee said. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“Actually, I have one last favor,” Ben said. “I just realized that when I moved, I misplaced all my old phone bills, which I need for tax purposes. Is it possible to get duplicates of those as well?”

“Certainly,” the employee said. “Let me just make a note of that here, and we’ll get those to you. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope. I think that’s it. Thanks for your help.” When he hung up the phone, Ben looked up at Lisa who was sitting across from him.

“Do you think the bills will really help?” she asked.

“Not really,” Ben said. “I don’t think Rick is dumb enough to call anyone important on a traceable phone. My guess is he was constantly mobile and worked most of his deals on a cell phone. The local number was probably just for me.”

“That was smart to get the P.O. box,” Lisa said, in an effort to cheer him up.

“Whatever,” Ben said. “If anyone’s watching that phone line, they already know I’m involved.”

“You don’t know that,” Lisa said. Looking at her watch, she added, “It’s almost ten. We should probably head over.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Ben said, suddenly irritated.

“Are you crazy?” she asked. “They’re handing down the CMI decision. Don’t you want to see the crowd’s reaction?”

Ben was silent.

“Well, you’re coming anyway,” she said, grabbing his hand. “We’re not supposed to miss decisions.”

Although the justices returned to work in early September, and the fall term officially began on the first Monday in October, it wasn’t until early November-when the first decisions were a

At approximately nine in the morning, the restless crowds were finally led into the building. While the groups were herded through the Great Hall and two separate metal detectors, Ben and Lisa walked straight into the main courtroom. “I love this,” Lisa said as she watched the lines of tourists who were slowly being seated.

Ben was hardly enthusiastic to see Charles Maxwell’s impending victory, but he had to acknowledge the excitement of a decision day. Reporters swarmed into the tiny press area on the left side of the courtroom. It was the only place in the room where observers were allowed to take notes, although there were no recording devices allowed. Armed guards escorted tourists and other observers into the twelve rows of benches in the center of the room, where they all eagerly awaited the arrival of the justices. Everyone spoke in hushed whispers, which added a buzz of energy to the room. On the right was a seating area reserved for family and friends of the justices, as well as a small private area for the Supreme Court clerks.

“They’re all sheep,” Ben said, looking at the packed courtroom. “They just come to see the spectacle and then they leave. They don’t care about the consequences. To them it’s just a tourist attraction.”

“Lighten up,” Lisa said. Still thrilled by the pomp and circumstance, she watched the clock tick toward ten.

Ben fixed his eyes on the marble frieze over the main entrance, which the justices faced. It displayed the Powers of Evil-Corruption and Deceit-offset by the Powers of Good-Security, Charity, and Peace, with Justice flanked by Wisdom and Truth.

Following Ben’s gaze, Lisa asked, “So, does art imitate life?”

“Fu

At exactly three minutes before ten, a buzzer summoned the justices to the conference room, where they prepared to enter the courtroom. Behind the burgundy velvet curtain, the justices ceremonially shook hands with each other. It was a custom instituted by Chief Justice Fuller early in the Court’s history, to show that “harmony of aims if not views is the Court’s guiding principle.” At precisely ten o’clock, the marshal banged his gavel, and every person in the room rose to his feet.

“The Honorable, the Chief Justice and the Associate Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States!” the marshal a

No matter how many times she saw it happen, Lisa was always awed by the simultaneous arrival of all nine justices. “I love this,” she whispered to Ben. “It’s like watching the arrival of the All-Star team.”

“Shhhh!” Ben said, unable to remove his eyes from center stage.

The room faced the nine chairs of the justices. Made of matching black leather, the chairs were specially designed to fit each justice’s particular body type. As the justices took their seats, the marshal a

Chief Justice Osterman sat in the center seat. “Today we will be handing down the decisions in United States v. CMI and Lexcoll, as well as Te

“Thank you, Mr. Chief Justice,” Blake responded. Appointed to the Court nearly ten years ago, Blake was a South Carolina judge whose Southern drawl was still as strong as the day he first took the bench. Primed for the CMI decision, the spectators held their collective breath. Reading from the prepared statement sheet, Blake said, “In the case of State of Te

When Blake finished the Te