Deadlock

Section Two was titled “Issues.” The wording was more casual than a true Supreme Court brief, but Holden was writing this for a lay audience, specifically those behind bars.

I wanted to say that God does not exist, and that I know that to be true. I said that many times to myself, but began to wonder about the statement. I wanted to be an atheist. What proof did I have?

I found that the one thing I could not say with absolute certainty was that God does not exist. One ca

I found that it is valid to be an agnostic, and to say, “I do not yet have enough evidence to convince me that God exists.” This is why I decided to look at whatever evidence there was, and see where it led.

After studying the evidence, I now believe the evidence is strong, not only for a god, but for the Christian God.

Millie sat up in the chair, ignoring the prickles of heat in her ribcage. She read the paragraphs again. She had to admit that his writing was not flabby noodles. She read on.

I propose to do the following in the remainder of this brief. First, I will prove that it is more reasonable than not to believe in God. And then I will prove that it is more reasonable than not to believe that Jesus Christ is his only begotten Son, and that whoever trusts in him will have everlasting life.

“Mom!” Millie shouted.

Ethel came to the back door. “What’s all the hubbub?”

“Can you bring me a legal pad, please? There’s one in my briefcase. And a pen.”

“Are you working out there?” Ethel said with rebuke.

“Please.”

Her mother brought out the pad and pen. “What’s that on your lap?” Ethel said.

“We’ll talk later, Mother. I just need some time alone.”

“What’s with all those wrinkles in your forehead?”

“Mom!”

“All right, all right.” Ethel started back toward the house, muttering.

Millie set the legal pad on her lap and got ready to take notes. Jack Holden wanted a real fight here, did he? All right. She was going to give him one. On the pad she jotted a note: God may be, or may not be, but if you are proposing that he is, the burden is with you.

She flipped to section three, which was titled, simply, “Beauty.” That sent a small spike of anticipation through her. She had just been thinking about the beauty of her surroundings. She read quickly.

Beauty exists. Everyone knows it, for everyone finds something beautiful. There is an amazing agreement on what is beautiful, all across cultural lines. Beethoven and Bach. Sunsets and flowers. Mountains and the Grand Canyon. You can’t escape beauty.

But where does beauty come from? You can’t put it into a mathematical equation. You can’t mix it in a bowl. It is a sense. It is something we feel as a consequence of being human.

Millie paused and looked out at the valley again. The colors, if it were possible, seemed even more vibrant. She felt the wonder of it, and then a small jolt of a

Holden was claiming that this feeling was from God, not from chemicals. Not enough information, she wrote. We’re going to need more from you, Pastor Holden.

The next heading was “Morality.”

What has been said of beauty may also be said of morality. We all behave as if there is a standard, a real right and wrong. Somebody who cuts me off in traffic either believes he has that “right,” or wants to “get away with it.” In either case, he believes in a moral standard.

This is true of all morality, in all cultures. As historian Will Durant writes in The Lessons of History, one who studies history will see “the universality of moral codes.”

As with the sense of beauty, the sense of morality must come from outside nature, and it must be given by a Being who gives us morality, a set of laws designed for our own benefit, intentionally. A moral lawgiver, in fact.

Millie shook her head. At least he got to the heart of matters quickly. Verbose counsel never impressed the justices. Holden was clipped and assured.

But his assurance was still bothersome. Okay, she told herself, be objective about it. When she considered a case, Millie always spent at least a little time in the shoes of each party to better understand the opposing viewpoints.

So she asked herself, What if I really did change my mind about God? And her initial reaction was a kind of muted fright.

She breathed deeply. What would a belief in God actually do to her after so many years? Would it affect her judicial philosophy? Now wouldn’t that be opening a can of political worms.

A loud crash interrupted her thoughts – the unmistakable percussion of metallic kitchenware falling on the hard tile of the kitchen floor.

“Mom?” Millie called out. She waited. No answer came. She called out again, louder this time.

No answer.

2

“Sarah Mae,” Charlene said gently, “how old are you?”

This was it. Sarah Mae’s testimony from the witness stand would be the deciding factor in the case. Winsor had undermined her expert witness. Now the story had to be told by the one who lived it.

There was no turning back. Charlene had used all of her persuasive powers to get Aggie to go along with continuing the trial. It was greed that did it. Aggie’s. Eight hundred thousand could become at least a million, Charlene had said. They increased the first offer. They would easily go into seven figures next. You can trust me, Aggie.

But greed was not why Charlene was continuing the trial. The case was God’s will, Granddad notwithstanding. Charlene was taking this trial to the limit, and there was no way she could lose. No way. Sarah Mae’s testimony was too compelling. God’s will was too clear. Charlene Moore was God’s woman.

And the next few minutes were the key to the whole thing.

Big doe eyes looked back at Charlene. “Eighteen,” Sarah Mae said.

“And where do you live?”

“Dudley.”

“With your mother?”

“Yeah.”

“And brothers and sisters?”

Sarah Mae nodded. Judge Lewis said, “You need to answer out loud, so the reporter can hear you. Do you understand?”

Again Sarah Mae nodded. Then quickly added, “Yeah.”

Charlene paused to let Sarah Mae recover a bit. “Sarah Mae, tell us about that day two years ago when you found out you were pregnant.”

The girl swallowed and took a deep breath. “I started to feeling sickly. But there wasn’t nothing wrong with me. Least I didn’t think there was. But I got sickly and threw up. I didn’t want to tell Mama because I knew why I was doing that, throwing up. So I went to that place that I saw on the telephone pole.”

“Was that the National Parental Pla

“Objection,” Winsor said. “Leading.”

“Sustained.”

Charlene said, “What was the name of the place you saw on the telephone pole?”

“National… what you just said.”

“Do you remember it in your own mind?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It was in Dudley?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You went there because you thought you might be pregnant?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sarah Mae, without mentioning names, tell the jury why you thought you were pregnant.”

Sarah Mae Sherman looked at her hands. Her fingers were locked together. “I saw this boy for a spell. I thought we was in love. Turns out I was. He weren’t.”

Charlene paused. She caught a quick glance of Aggie Sherman, seated in the front row. She was also looking at her hands.

“Now, when you went into the clinic, what was the first thing that happened?”