Philip Margolin - Capitol murder

Millie couldn’t help grinning. “My business has been amazing. I’m actually turning away cases.”

“You deserve your success. It’s not every attorney who could have convinced Judge Case to reverse two murder cases as notorious as mine.”

Clarence paused and stared into Millie’s eyes. Then he reached across the table and took her hand in his. Millie felt an electric charge pass between them.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” Clarence said. Then he released her hand and looked down at the tabletop. Millie had the impression that he was gathering his courage to broach something important. When he looked up, he radiated none of the self-confidence she was used to seeing.

“Millie, maybe this is premature but… well, when I’m free-and I know you’ll help me gain my freedom-would you consider…”

Clarence paused. Then he flashed a shy smile. “I’m sorry, but when I’m around you, well, you make me so happy, but you also make me nervous.” He took a deep breath and looked Millie in the eye. “I should have a ring with a diamond as big as the moon, but,” he said, turning his palms up, “Tiffany won’t deliver in here.”

Millie couldn’t breathe.

“What I’m trying to say is, would you consider marrying me?”

Millie had dreamed about this moment, and now that Clarence had proposed, she was speechless. Clarence stopped smiling. He looked so sad. Then his eyes dropped to the tabletop again.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I…”

Millie reached out and covered Clarence’s hands with hers.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m just so happy I couldn’t speak. Of course I’ll marry you. I love you.”

Clarence looked up, a wide smile on his face. “Thank you, Millie. You’ve made me the happiest man in the world. I wish I could kiss you but…” He nodded at the closed-circuit camera that was fixed to the wall. “But soon, Millie, soon we’ll be together, and we’ll be able to kiss and… and make love.”

The blood rushed to Millie’s cheeks.

“I hope I haven’t shocked you, but I’ve wanted to hold you for so long.”

“I want to be with you, too.”

“You will be, as soon as I’m acquitted. Do you know when my first trial will be held?”

“I talked to Monte Pike. He’s the chief criminal deputy, and he’s prosecuting. We’re going to have a scheduling conference soon to work out the logistics; which case to try first, dates, that sort of thing.”

“Good. Please tell me as soon as you know.”

“I will.”

“There is something else I’d like you to do.”

“Anything.”

Clarence smiled. “This shouldn’t be too difficult. Can you get the judge to order the jail to let me wear a suit and tie when I’m in court? There are going to be television cameras all over the place, and I don’t want potential jurors seeing me like this,” he said, pointing to the jumpsuit.

“I’ll do it today. And I’ll buy you a beautiful suit and tie. You’ll look just like a lawyer.”

For the rest of the meeting, Millie and Clarence talked about the wedding and where they would go on their honeymoon. Clarence hinted that he had money that he would use to treat her like a princess, and Millie was afraid that her heart would burst from joy.

Finally Millie had to end the conference because she had to get back to her office to meet a new client. She rang for the guard. As she walked down the corridor away from the visiting room, she kept her eyes on Clarence until the concrete wall blocked her view of her beloved.

Millie arrived at her office with no memory of the trip from the Justice Center. The phrase walking on air came to her, and she suddenly knew what it meant. She had accepted the fact that she would go through life alone, but now, through a miracle, she was in love with a man who loved her. She smiled. She couldn’t help herself. She would gain freedom for Clarence, and in so doing, she would free herself from a life of loneliness.

The Senate of ancient Rome was the inspiration for the United States Senate; the name is derived from senatus, which is Latin for “council of elders.” The American Senate is often described as the world’s greatest deliberative body, and membership in this exclusive club is more prestigious than membership in the House of Representatives. If you are a congressman from California, Texas, or New York, you are one of thirty to fifty people who can make that claim. Only two people from each state can serve in the Senate. The only qualifications for the office are that one must be at least thirty years old, a citizen of the United States for at least the past nine years, and an inhabitant at the time of the election of the state one wishes to represent.

The halls of the Dirksen Building were usually filled with casually dressed vacationers and groups of self-important men and women clothed in power suits on a mission to get this or that done. The constant din was a sharp contrast to the quiet in the halls of the United States Supreme Court, where Brad had just finished a year as a law clerk. At the Court, silence was the norm, visitors were few, and lobbyists were strictly prohibited.

An American flag and the Oregon State flag stood on either side of the main door to Senator Carson’s suite of offices on the second floor of the Dirksen Building. Visitors entered a reception area where a young man and a young woman greeted them when they were not dealing with a constant flood of telephone calls. When the Senate was in session, the waiting room was usually filled with vacationing Oregonians who wanted to say hello to the man they had helped to elect and with constituents and lobbyists who wanted something from him.

When a senator moved in, the office was deconstructed, then rearranged for the senator’s needs. Walls went up to create offices of various sizes for the staff. A door in the reception area opened into a narrow, crowded corridor that ended at Senator Carson’s large corner office. A cubicle occupied by one of the legislative correspondents, who answered the letters the senator received every day, formed a barrier between the corridor and Brad’s office.

The offices for legislative assistants were small but looked different, depending on the occupant. All were furnished with bookshelves, gray metal filing cabinets, and desks, but some of the spaces were neat and well organized, while chaos reigned in others. Brad’s office was in between these extremes. His desk was neat, but he was starting to use the floor as extra filing space, and it would not be long before it resembled an obstacle course.

Much of the Senate’s important work begins in committees, which review legislation and oversee the executive branch. One of Brad’s jobs was to help Senator Carson prepare witnesses who were going to testify in front of one of the committees on which he sat. The testimony of these witnesses was received in writing the night before they were going to testify but was embargoed to the press. Brad was preparing a list of questions to ask a witness who was going to testify in favor of an immigration bill the Judiciary Committee was considering when the senator sent for him.

Senator Carson had hired an interior decorator, and his office now had a regal look. A credenza filled with books on various subjects on which the senator had to be educated stood under a window with a view of Union Station. A set of chairs with polished wood arms and burgundy upholstery sat along a wall decorated with photographs, framed newspaper pages, and awards that highlighted important events in the senator’s business and political careers. Across the way, a long, comfortable sofa sat kitty-corner to a second, smaller sofa and opposite two high-backed armchairs. A coffee table holding two coffee-table books with photos of Oregon’s spectacular scenery stood between the large sofa and the chairs.