Stuart Woods - Mounting Fears

“Mr. Melfi,” the chairman said, “this is highly irregular. I am sure you know that witnesses must be vetted by staff before appearing before the committee.”

“And the witness has been vetted by staff,” Melfi replied. “They completed their process only four or five minutes ago. I assure the chairman that this will take only a very few minutes, and, as I said, his testimony is highly pertinent.”

A staffer came over, handed the chairman a sheet of paper, and whispered something in his ear. The chairman asked a brief question, then turned back to Stanton. “Governor, I apologize for this interruption, but I think we should hear this witness.”

“Of course, Mr. Chairman,” Stanton replied. “Please call him.”

The chairman consulted the sheet of paper in his hand. “The committee calls Mr. Marvin Sheedy.”

Stanton turned and looked up the aisle to see a small, elderly man using a cane walk slowly forward to be sworn. He took a seat at the other table, next to where Stanton sat.

“Mr. Sheedy,” Senator Melfi began, “would you state your full name and address for the record?”

Sheedy cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone. “Marvin Ellis Sheedy, 101 Sun Terrace, Phoenix, Arizona.”

“And what is your occupation, Mr. Sheedy?” the senator asked.

“I retired fifteen years ago from the United States Border Patrol,” Sheedy replied, “after thirty-five years of service.”

“Mr. Sheedy, do you recall where you were on January 9, 1958?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” Sheedy replied. “I was on duty at the border station between Tijuana, Mexico, and San Diego, California. I remember, because that was my first day on the job.”

“I see. Mr. Sheedy, was that day memorable for any other reason, besides its being your first day in the Border Patrol?”

“Well, yes, sir, it was.”

“Can you tell us why?”

“Well, it was a little before nine o’clock in the morning. I had been on duty only since eight o’clock, when this Cadillac car came racing up to the border station-it cut off another car-and screeched to a halt right in front of me.”

“Can you describe the car?” Melfi asked.

“It was a four-door, real new, painted yellow, with a black fabric top. I was told later that it belonged to a Mr. Stanton, who crossed the border often and was well known to several of the officers.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, there was a man and a woman in the backseat, and she was lying down. The man in the back yelled something at the driver, then both of them got out of the car and changed places. When they did, I saw the lady was having a baby.”

“And then what happened?”

“Well, the fellow in the backseat with the lady held it up and slapped it, and it started crying.”

“And what did you do?”

“I yelled at the driver to get the hell out of there. I guessed he was going to a hospital, you see. The driver, who I later found out was Mr. Stanton, stomped on the gas and got the hell out of there.”

“And you’re sure, Mr. Sheedy, that while the car was stopped at your station, the baby was born?”

“Oh, yessir,” Sheedy said. “That was the first time, before or since, I saw a baby born.”

“Mr. Sheedy,” Senator Melfi said, “where, precisely, was your station located?”

“My station was about fifty yards south of the border. You see, we were located there, so in case we found somebody trying to cross the border illegally, we could stop him before he entered the United States.”

“You’re certain about the location?”

“Oh, yes sir,” Sheedy said.

“Mr. Chairman,” Melfi said, “that concludes my questioning of the witness. I would like to point out that his testimony affirms that Governor Stanton is not a native-born American citizen, as the rules of the Immigration Service define that status, and so, because of that and other circumstances in Governor Stanton’s father’s life, he is not eligible to serve as vice president of the United States of America.”

All hell broke loose in the hearing room.

Will Lee was sitting up in bed in the presidential suite of the hotel Bel-Air in Los Angeles when his phone rang. It was six forty-five a.m. He picked it up. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to disturb your breakfast, Mr. President,” Kitty Conroy said, “but there’s been something of a bombshell in Governor Stanton’s confirmation hearing.” She related the events of a few minutes before.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Will demanded.

“Right out of left field, sir. Apparently Senator Melfi has been doing some digging.”

“You get on the phone to Bob Kinney. His people have already checked out Marty’s story, and they have the testimony of the man who delivered Marty in the car. Get moving!”

“Yes, sir,” Kitty replied and hung up. She went to her laptop, found Bob Kinney’s direct line, and called it.

The Senate Committee reconvened after a lunch break, and Jacob Friedman, Stanton’s attorney, rose. “Mr. Chairman, since Governor Stanton was pretty young at the time of the events described by Mr. Sheedy, I would like to call a rebuttal witness on the events of January 9, 1958.”

“You may do so, Mr. Friedman,” the chairman replied.

“I call Special Agent Shelly Bach of the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Friedman said.

There was a stir in the audience and many strobes firing as the tall blonde agent walked purposefully down the aisle and stopped to be sworn. Then she sat down where Mr. Sheedy had sat.

“Good morning, Special Agent Bach,” Friedman said, rising.

“Good morning, sir, and Mr. Chairman,” Shelly replied with a fetching smile.

“A little background first, please,” Friedman said. “How long have you been an agent of the FBI?”

“For seven years,” Shelly replied. “I was recruited out of Yale Law School.”

“And what are your current duties?”

“I’m assigned to the office of Assistant Director Kerry Smith for general duties in the Washington, D.C., area.”

“And what was your most recent assignment?”

“I was assigned to the background check of Governor Martin Stanton after the president selected him. This is a routine examination of persons appointed to high office in the government.”

“And what did your review of Governor Stanton’s background reveal?”

“Nothing of a derogatory nature, but the full report could be released only by the director of the FBI.”

“Let me be specific: Did your investigation reveal the birthplace of Governor Stanton?”

“Yes. Governor Stanton was born between the United States border and Women’s Hospital in San Diego, California.”

“And how did you learn this?”

“First from Governor Stanton’s own account of his birth, as related to him by family members and a staffer.”

“And how did you substantiate this account?”

“At the direction of Director Kinney, Assistant Director Smith and I traveled to Mexico, where we interviewed Mr. Pedro Martнnez, who was an employee of Martin Stanton, Senior, and who actually delivered the baby who is Martin Stanton, Junior, while the elder Mr. Stanton drove the car.”

“Did you find the account of Mr. Martнnez convincing?” Friedman asked.

“Yes. He confirmed every detail of the story Governor Stanton had told us and in a most convincing manner.”

“So we have an accurate account of events from the only person still living who knows every detail of that morning’s events?”

“That is correct.”

“And as a result of your investigation, you have determined beyond any doubt that Governor Stanton was born on United States soil?”