Randy Singer - The Justice Game

The thought of it stunned Kelly. FBI agents asking questions about Judge Shaver’s private life. The wrong answers could destroy his chances. “I can’t lie, Judge.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t ask you to lie.”

“Then why did you call?”

The judge inhaled deeply on the other end of the phone. “Kelly, you know how sorry I am about what happened. Lynda and I are still together and trying hard to make it work. I’m just saying, anything you can do short of lying, I would really appreciate.”

“Maybe you should pull your name,” Kelly suggested. “Family reasons. Not wanting the spotlight. You like being a trial judge. There could be a million reasons.”

Shaver didn’t respond right away. “I know I could,” he eventually said. “But Kelly, the things you and I believe in are the right things. The right causes. We need judges on our highest courts who are willing to stand up for the most vulnerable in our society. I can’t sell them out just to save myself some potential embarrassment.”

No longer blinded by her infatuation, the words sounded hollow. The president could find a hundred other judges who shared Shaver’s judicial philosophy. This was about his ego, his opportunity to go as far as he could go.

“I’ll do what I can,” Kelly had said.

“That’s all I can ask.”

When the hearing ended, Judge Shaver invited Kelly back to his chambers. He introduced her to his current clerks and waited while Kelly exchanged a few pleasantries with the judge’s secretary. Kelly then followed the judge into his spacious chambers, where he took off his judicial robe and hung it on a coatrack.

“Can I take your coat?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Kelly said, though it was a little warm.

Shaver’s chambers showed even less wear and tear than the judge himself. Paperwork was neatly stacked. The same pictures and diplomas adorned the walls. Even the kids’ pictures on his desk looked like the same ones Kelly remembered from seven years ago. He had left his office door open, but his desk was on the other side of the massive office from the doorway. If they talked quietly, they wouldn’t have to worry about being overheard.

The judge made the kind of conversation you might expect when a former clerk stops by. “How’s the law practice?… I read that article about you in the Post… Interesting case you’re handling against that gun company…” Etc., etc.

Kelly responded politely, asking her own softball questions. Judge Shaver expected the confirmation hearings to start in a few weeks or maybe months. It was hard to predict. “This is the third time my name’s been floated but the first time I’ve made it this far,” he said. “I’m hoping the third time’s the charm.”

“Me, too.”

The judge leaned forward and softened his voice. “Thanks for what you did with the FBI.”

It was a tone that used to give Kelly goose bumps. Today, she just left the comment hanging. She reached into her briefcase and retrieved the e-mail from Luthor.

“We’ve got a problem, Judge. This showed up in my inbox last week.”

She watched Judge Shaver put on his reading glasses, his face darkening as he read the e-mail. He placed the letter on his desk and stared at it.

“Who knows about us?” he asked.

“If by that you mean, ‘Whom did I tell?’ the answer is no one.”

“I wasn’t accusing you, Kelly. I’m just trying to think this through.”

Kelly looked down at the desk. There was something she had never shared with the judge, preferring to shoulder the pain on her own. She had dealt with it, condemned herself for what she had done, and then willed herself to forget about it and move on.

“I was pregnant,” Kelly said. She swallowed, her voice suddenly thick. “I took the RU-486 pill five weeks later.”

She glanced up at the judge and saw nothing but sympathy on his face. She tried to continue, stopped, pulled herself together, and started again. “I went to a clinic and got a prescription. They guided me through the process and had me return to the clinic the day the abortion occurred for some counseling and observation.” She blew out a deep breath. “I expelled the fetus at home. But half a dozen people at the clinic probably know.”

Saying it out loud brought back a rush of emotions and images. At the time, Kelly had worked hard not to think about the implications, knowing she would probably talk herself out of what she felt she had to do. She took the initial dose of RU-486 at the clinic and suffered through a few hours of nausea, headache, and fatigue. For the next forty-eight hours, she walked around like a zombie, trying not to focus on what she had done.

She took the Cytotec pill at home and a few hours later began to dilate. According to the information she had read, the fetus would be tiny at this stage, about half an inch or so. She made it a point not to look before she flushed the toilet.

She was businesslike when she returned to the clinic for observation. But she fell apart when she returned to her apartment, sobbing deep into the night. Just before dawn, emotionally exhausted and weak with grief, she had finally collapsed into a fitful sleep.

Weeks later, she couldn’t keep herself from researching fetal development. She’d even looked at a few pictures on the Internet. At five weeks old, tiny arm and leg buds would have been formed. The baby’s tiny heart would have been beating. The image of the fetus was burned into her mind.

“I’m so sorry,” Judge Shaver said. “I had no idea.”

He got up from his chair and walked over to close his office door. Then he sat down again and handed Kelly some Kleenex.

“I just wanted to deal with it on my own,” Kelly said. “I wanted to get my life back on track.”

She pressed her lips together and held back the tears, watching the recognition dawn on the judge’s face. This wasn’t just his and Kelly’s word against the world. Somewhere there was proof that Kelly had been pregnant.

Kelly had spent the last few days wondering how he would react. Would he question whether the baby was his? be angry at her for not telling him? go immediately into damage-control mode?

She saw none of those calculations in his eyes. Just an overwhelming sadness and an almost palpable sense of sympathy.

“I can’t believe you had to go through that alone,” Judge Shaver said. He paused, searching for words. “I can’t change the past, Kelly. I wish I could… but I can’t do anything about that. The thing I can do is keep you from suffering any more. It’s not too late to withdraw my name.”

She appreciated the offer, but he wasn’t thinking this through. “That won’t really change anything, Judge. If the press gets hold of this, they’ll still run the story to explain why you withdrew. The coverage might not be as intense, but it would be out there just the same. My statements to the FBI have already been made. Everyone we care about would be hurt. Your family. My family.”

Judge Shaver nodded solemnly. She was right, and he knew it.

For a second, Kelly was struck with the irony of it-this man who had so mesmerized her with his Solomonic wisdom a few years ago now seemed so overwhelmed. It was amazing how love-or was it just passion?-had destroyed her objectivity and neutered her common sense.

For Kelly’s part, she had steeled herself for whatever lay ahead. A part of her just wanted this whole thing out in the open-the secrets that haunted her finally revealed. Maybe on the other side of humiliation she would find liberation. But the thought of disappointing everyone who mattered most held her back.

“I need to play this out a little,” Kelly said, trying to sound more confident than she really was. “Dance with this guy for a while. See if he makes a mistake. Maybe I can represent my client zealously and still figure out who Luthor is before the case goes to trial.”