With Liberty and Justice

* Author’s Note: This is part of a piece I originally wrote shortly at 9/11. In order to preserve the feeling and mood of that time, I haven’t edited it or updated it to reflect the events that have occurred since.

CHAPTER ONE

In the dark New York City night, a white halo of light illuminated the words inscribed in the walls of the Liberty Monument, the words that every citizen, young and old, knows by heart:

We must remain ever mindful of the constantly shifting balance

between acting in the interest of national security and protecting our

civil liberties. . . .

All people shall be free to pursue

Life, Liberty, Happiness, and Justice.

CHAPTER TWO

The day started the same as every other. Warren Marshall Rehnquist was sitting in the transit car bound for the Justice Tribunal. Another day, another case. He shut his eyes and hoped he might be able to catch a few minutes more sleep before arriving at the office. After having spent only thirteen years with the Tribunal, Warren had worked his way up through all five levels of promotions to achieve first tier defense attorney status, a 1D as they’re commonly known. Most attorneys never reach this pinnacle position. Certainly none of Warren’s predecessors had done so after only thirteen years. The only one to come close achieved this feat in sixteen years and now sat as the Chief Justice of the Supreme Tribunal. But, Warren was different from all the attorneys who had come before; his parents spared no expense to ensure that he would be.

Warren’s father and mother, both born before the benefits of genetically altered births were available, had been fortunate enough to possess natural aptitudes for the law. Having met in law school, their mutual respect for each other’s professional promise became a mutual passion for excellence in the legal community. They joined forces and established quite a successful private practice. They found that it quite lucrative defending the government and private corporations in lawsuits brought by private citizens for physical or financial injuries suffered as the result of their clients’ actions and products. At first, they had no qualms with their chosen path in life. Later, they found that, despite their growing level of frustration and occasional disgust for their clients’ actions, they had come to depend on the money and couldn’t turn away from it.

When the time came to start a family, Warren’s parents didn’t see any reason to take the any chances with their son. They wanted for him to represent everything they were not: they wanted him to be a brilliant attorney with a conscience, representing the “little guy” against the “big money” corporations. Without hesitation, they invested the extra fifty thousand dollars needed to ensure that their son’s genetic material would be best suited to the arts of advocacy and legal reasoning.

According to the rules of legal ethics, the genetic modification could go no further. To take the next step and program their unborn child with the guaranteed level of compassion for the slighted masses, the damage to their client’s interests had the potential of being slightly greater than negligible. It was up to them at that point to raise their son with the ethical values they desired him to have and hope that, though he was genetically guaranteed to be one of the best attorneys of his generation, their parenting skills would be sufficient to ensure he would desire a position that would balance out their life’s work.

Despite his parents’ efforts and fervent wishes, it wasn’t his pride in his work or his innate dedication and passion for seeing justice prevail that brought him back out into the guts of downtown New York City everyday. For Warren, his motivation was more personal; some would call it selfish or foolish. He simply wanted to be the best. He was looking for the challenge that would defeat him. He was looking for a win that wouldn’t come easily. Fortunately, for his parents’ sake, that meant he had to stand up for the little guy – they were the only ones nowadays who really didn’t seem to have any justice or luck on their side.

Warren resigned himself to the fact that he was just too distracted by all the conversations surrounding him this morning to catch any shut-eye during the forty-five minute commute. Instead, he looked over his shoulder and out the car’s window, seeing nothing but the dismal gray emptiness of the streets outside. It had been at least fifty years since people had crowded the sidewalks or cars had lined the streets, bumper to bumper. Now, only the transit cars ventured into the downtown district, speeding through on their preset paths day in and out at seventy miles per hour. Each building now housed a different company or governmental department and each entity possessed its own cars set to travel directly from their suburbs into their building. The city had been very different a hundred years ago, when Manhattan was the center of commerce and the skyscrapers dwarfed all that lay at their feet.

The skyscrapers were still here, but they were no longer the most formidable presence in the district. There was a time when the United States thought it could demonstrate its prowess by the height of its buildings. Today, however, the power and stability of the nation were evidenced through well-fortified buildings such as the one housing the Justice Tribunal.

The Justice Tribunal’s building was one of the newer additions to the downtown Manhattan district. Seven stories of dark gray stone walls stood proud and strong, giving the building its familiar name – the “Fortress.” Inside, both the national and Eastern district military tribunals sit awaiting the opportunity to further purge the nation of improper criminal behavior and civil wrongs. The three tiers of the Eastern district’s prosecution and defense branch offices also reside within the building. The other two districts in the country have similar but less magnificent and considerably smaller facilities: the Midwest District in Kansas City and the Western District in Los Angeles. The Fortress in New York City was built as a tribute to fallen World Trade Center towers, built on the same ground upon which the towers had stood. The gesture was meant to demonstrate to the entire world that the United States could not be terrorized – instead it simply stated that we had no sense of aesthetics.

As the transit car raced along its track, Warren could see the Fortress’s entryway quickly approaching. Today, as always, Warren traveled in the seat next to Sara Smith, his co-worker, former classmate, and the object of his affections so many years ago. They had a short-lived relationship back at the University. But, Sara ended their involvement after two months, saying only that she could not bring herself to love a man to whom she would always be inferior. Warren had loved her and spent the years since working hard to keep her from discovering how deeply this dismissal had pained him. This task was difficult, however: Sara was also a predestined lawyer. She would never achieve the same greatness a Warren because her parents had been unable to afford to ensure her future as a legal prodigy. She was currently a second-tier prosecutor, a 2P, and was being considered for a promotion to a 1P. Some attorneys find their calling in the prosecutor’s office and choose not to seek promotion after reaching 1P status. Warren knew that Sara would be one of those attorneys, that she would believe justice was being served by taking everyone suspected of criminal activity off the public streets. Justice, in her mind, would always be defined by cell bars or a death sentence. Warren couldn’t help himself from relishing the prospect of Sara remaining a 1P for the duration of their careers. Once she reached the 1P level, they might finally meet in the courtroom. Sara feared feeling inferior in Warren’s shadow. In the courtroom, Warren thought, I could make this fear a reality. I could finally get the revenge that I’ve wanted all these years. As the saying goes . . . all’s fair in love and litigation.

“So, Sara, how was the theater last night? What show did you see?” Despite his devious internal plotting and planning, Warren thought it best to keep his relationship with Sara as professional as it always has been. Talk about work and she won’t see you coming, he thought.

Sara looked up from her yellow legal pad. She had been reviewing her research notes from a case she was assisting her 1P supervisor with. “Oh, Warren, you missed the most fabulous show. It was all about a general who was appointed to serve on the national military tribunal and about his discovery of what swift justice means to the stability of the nation. Entertainment rarely ever reaches out and inspires me anymore. But, this play did just that. I couldn’t wait to get back to the office. I woke up two hours early just to get a head-start on my day.”

“I can see that.” Warren caste a sideways glance over at the notebook she held in her lap. “It looks like you’ve got quite the case there. What have they got you working on nowadays? Are you still in the civil department or have you decided to try your hand at the criminal justice realm?”

“Actually, I’ve been up to my ears assisting with criminal prosecutions for the past five months.”

Warren couldn’t resist the temptation to ask any longer. “So, have you received any word regarding your possible promotion to 1P?”

Sara smiled shyly, “You know they don’t talk to us about things like that before the final decision is made. However, it would be fabulous to finally get my own caseload. Assisting 1Ps with their cases is a great way to learn, but I imagine the satisfaction you get when a case is won is much greater if the work is your own. Of course, you would know what that feeling is like.”

Sara had shot a quick, resentful glance at Warren as she made this final comment, reassuring Warren that she remained as jealous of him as she had been at the University.

The transit car had entered the Tribunal’s walls and come to a stop at the platform. As the doors opened and everyone arose from their seats to start the day, Warren got in his last word. “Well, Sara, when you get that promotion, I want to be the first to know.”