Deadlock

“Thinking is what you’re good at, girlfriend.”

“Sometimes.”

“So what are you thinking about now?” Helen sipped her chardo

Go for it, Millie thought. “God.”

Helen paused, the glass at her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly. “God?”

Millie nodded.

“As in?”

Suddenly Millie’s tongue was doing back flips. “God… you know… as in… God.” What a fabulous and eloquent judge you have become, she thought.

Helen tapped her glass with a fingernail. “Tell me more, Igor.”

Millie didn’t know what words she would use so she just let them pour out. She told Helen everything – the near-death experience, Santa Lucia, her mother’s death, Pastor Jack Holden. Helen sat through it all with an expression half bemused and half – what? Troubled?

“And I’ve been meeting with Bill Bonassi,” Millie concluded.

Helen’s eyebrows went up. The restaurant seemed suddenly still. Helen herself seemed frozen, as if in a state of emotional shock. Millie prayed silently her friend would remain that, a friend, and understand. And accept.

Helen began tentatively. “Frankly, Watson, this is troubling,” Helen said. “Bill Bonassi? Do you know how bizarre that sounds?”

“I suppose.”

“The biggest right-wing justice of the last fifty years?”

“It’s not a political thing,” Millie said. “Bill has been answering a lot of my questions about Christianity.”

“Yeah? Whose brand of Christianity? His? Falwell’s? What is up with this?”

Millie closed her eyes a moment. “I’m not thinking about it in those terms, Helen. A lot has happened in the last few months.”

“I guess!”

“I can only tell you I had been saying no to God for many years, and then I realized I was saying yes.”

“Wow,” Helen said with a faraway look, as if she were gazing upon some strange new thing.

“I know,” Millie said.

Helen waited a long time before putting her wineglass down and reaching for Millie’s hand. “Hey, kiddo, you went through a terrible thing there. I understand that. Of course I do. You got shaken up. It’s natural to think about these things – you know, religious things.”

“Thank you, Helen.”

“For what?”

“Listening.”

“Hey, it’s me. So, you are looking at Christianity.” Helen paused, as if a new thought had snuck up on her. “What do you think it means?”

“Means?”

“You know, for the future.”

“My future?”

“Yeah. As chief justice and all.”

Millie saw the look of incipient concern on Helen’s face. “You worried I’m going to go off on some odd angle?”

“Bill Bonassi,” Helen said with a shrug. “It at least raises the issue.”

“Helen, I’m going to do what I’ve always done, okay? One case at a time.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Hurt? How?”

“You know, if the press gets hold of this.”

Millie had thought about that. She was not so naive as to think that the hungry sharks of Washington media wouldn’t try to make a big deal out of her spiritual quest. If they found out.

Helen squeezed Millie’s hand. “We can handle this thing together, kiddo,” she said.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

1

On October 8, a cool Wednesday afternoon in Washington, Chief Justice Millicent Ma

She felt like she was made of warm jam. That was partly due to her initial trepidation – the new-kid-at-school syndrome, even though she’d been here ten years – but mainly because she knew, when the discussion began on the first case, there would be a judicial firestorm.

For conference, the nine members of the Court met in the large room next to the chambers of the chief. They shook hands with each other before taking their seats at the large rectangular conference table, under the watchful portrait of the famous chief justice, John Marshall. Only the nine justices would be present – no clerks, secretaries, staff assistants, or anyone else allowed.

Justice Riley gave Millie’s hand an extended shake. He smiled at her and said, “I know you’re ready to run this ship.”

Millie felt her face strain to smile in return. She almost felt like a traitor. Riley had no idea what was about to happen.

She only knew what experience had taught her. Each justice would have considered the cases to be discussed and formed preliminary opinions. As chief, Millie’s job was to state the facts of the cases and begin a round where each justice would state his or her opinion on the matter. That would give them all a sense of where each justice stood, and how strongly they believed in their positions.

Then a give-and-take would ensue. Sometimes it would be brief, if the case was simple; for complex cases it could get rather lengthy. And for volatile cases, things could get heated, in a ma

Considering this first case and her take on it, Millie knew there would be flames. “Good afternoon, everyone,” she said.

Eight heads nodded at her, with a few “good afternoons” thrown in.

“Let us get right to it,” Millie continued. “Our first case today is from the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals,” she said. “American Civil Liberties Union of Ohio v. Roland Tate, Governor. The facts are as follows.

“In 1959, three years after President Eisenhower signed legislation making ‘In God We Trust’ the national motto, the state of Ohio adopted a similar motto, ‘With God All Things Are Possible.’ Last year the Governor of Ohio approved a bronze flatwork, twelve feet by ten feet, with the state motto inscribed, to be placed outside the statehouse in Columbus, Ohio. The ACLU of Ohio, joined by a taxpayer in the state, filed suit to stop this action. A divided three-judge panel of the Sixth Circuit held that the action violates the Establishment Clause. That is the issue we must decide. I will defer my own comments for the moment.”

She noted a few bewildered looks. It had long been a tradition in conference for the chief to begin with a position statement. But Millie wanted to see where everyone else stood before weighing in.

As the senior associate, Thomas Riley had the first word. “Well, this is a clear Constitutional violation,” he said.

No surprise there, Millie thought.

“The motto comes from a Bible verse, Matthew 19:26. It’s a verse where Jesus Christ is talking about the salvation of souls. Well, if the Establishment Clause means anything, it means the government should not align itself with Jesus Christ, or any other religious figure. That’s what Ohio is doing with this motto. It should be struck down.”

Simple, clear, to the point. Millie had expected no less.

On Riley’s left sat the next associate in seniority, Raymond Byrne, a twenty-three-year member of the Court and a consistent textualist. Naturally, the press always put his name on the conservative side of the ledger.

“Surprise, surprise, I disagree,” Byrne said. There was good-natured laughter all around. Byrne, a glinty-eyed, third-generation Irishman, had the best sense of humor on the Court. “It seems to me that there is no difference between ‘With God All Things Are Possible’ and ‘In God We Trust.’ If the second passes Constitutional muster, then so does Ohio’s.”

And so on around the table they went. Millie kept track in her mind, and when all was said the view of the case split perfectly, 4-4, among the so-called conservative bloc and what the press called the moderates.

Justice Byrne, along with Justices Facconi, Johnson, and Parsons, were for the acceptability of the motto. Riley, joined by Weiss, Velarde, and the new Justice Atkins, thought it violated the Establishment Clause.

Then all eyes turned to Millie.

There was no avoiding it now. No place to hide. No bookcase that spun around into some secret chamber through which she could make an escape. Millie thought she could read the faces clearly. Riley looked especially gratified. He was a staunch separationist. He did not want any government, state or federal, to have anything to do with religion. He was clearly expecting Millie’s vote to be a favorable tie breaker.