Brad Meltzer - The Tenth Justice

Now smiling, Ben turned toward Nathan. “I’m smarter.”

Holding back his own laughter, Nathan said, “Three letters, buddy-boy: S-A-T.”

“Just because you beat me by a measly hundred points on the SAT does not mean you’re smarter,” Ben said.

“The test does not lie,” Nathan said as he walked to the door. “You may have the street-smarts, but when it comes to unbridled intellectualism, you can call me master. And Ober, when we were little, none of us ate the Play-Doh. We used to pretend to eat it, just to watch you.”

As Nathan left the room, Ober turned toward Ben. When Ben started laughing, Ober shouted back, “I knew that!”

AT SEVEN THE FOLLOWING MORNING, BEN walked into Justice Hollis’s chambers wearing plaid shorts and a faded T-shirt. “BEN, IS THAT YOU?” he heard Lisa shout from their office. “Get your ass in here!”

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked, running into the office. “Are you okay?”

“You won’t believe what just happened.” Lisa’s fingers were racing through the Rolodex on her desk. “I got a call from the governor’s office in Missouri, and we have twenty-four hours to act on this application for a death penalty stay.”

“What are you talking about?” Ben asked, throwing his briefcase on his desk.

“Here it is!” Lisa proclaimed, pulling a card from the Rolodex. Turning to Ben, she explained, “There’s a murderer in Missouri who killed three little kids. He was sentenced to death about ten years ago and his case has been appealed through the courts since then. The execution was set for October, but for some reason, the state bumped up the date to tomorrow. He’s allowed an appeal to the Supreme Court, so we now have twenty-four hours to find Hollis and get his opinion.”

“How do we reach him?” Ben asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Lisa said, holding out the Rolodex card. “He left me the number where he was staying in Norway, but apparently he went traveling for a few days. I took his Rolodex from his office. I know he has a sister who lives in California, so I’m going to call her.”

Ben picked up his phone, dialed information, and asked for the number of the U.S. Marshals Service. Looking at Lisa he said, “Every justice has to have a marshal with them at all times. They must know where he is.”

“Hi, Mrs. Winston?” Lisa asked. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but I’m a clerk for Justice Hollis and we need to reach him. It’s an emergency.”

“Hello, is this the Marshals Service?” Ben asked. “This is Ben Addison calling from Justice Mason Hollis’s chambers. We need to reach the justice. It’s an emergency.”

“She doesn’t know where he is,” Lisa said, hanging up her phone as Ben explained the situation to the Marshals Service.

“Uh-huh. Okay. Yes, definitely,” Ben said.

Lisa smacked Ben on the arm. “What’re they saying?”

“They know where he is,” Ben said, hanging up. “They won’t give us the number, but they’re contacting him, and they’ll have him call us.”

“Did you tell them it’s an emergency?” Lisa asked. Noticing the do-you-think-I’m-a-moron look on Ben’s face, she said, “Sorry, just making sure.”

Ten minutes later, the phone rang. Pulling it from its cradle, Ben calmly said, “Justice Hollis’s chambers…Hello, Justice Hollis. How’s Norway? Yes, I hear it’s beautiful this time of year. No. Yes, the office is great. Lisa’s been terrific. We just had a little emergency. A death penalty appeal just came through, and they want to execute the defendant tomorrow morning. So, uh, what should we do?” After scribbling some notes to himself, Ben finally said, “We’ll call you there later this afternoon.”

“What the hell did he say?” Lisa yelled as soon as Ben put down the phone.

“Here’s what has to happen,” Ben said, flipping the page on his pad to make a list. “First, we have to let every justice know that their votes are due by eight tomorrow morning. We need five votes to get a stay of execution. If only four vote for the stay, this guy dies tomorrow. Then after we notify all the chambers, we have to write a memo recommending whether Hollis should vote to grant the stay.”

“All the relevant case history will be in the lower federal court papers,” Lisa said.

“Exactly. And he told me how to get those. He said we probably won’t be done until early tomorrow morning, but he said he wants the completed memo by six A.M. tomorrow. I have his fax number.” Flipping on his computer, Ben said, “I’ll write the official request so we can get the court papers.”

“I’ll let all the other chambers know what’s happening.”

“After you tell them, make sure you put the whole story in a memo so they all have official notification,” Ben said as Lisa darted for the door. “Then none of them can say they didn’t know about it.”

Lisa nodded and ran out.

An hour later, nine boxes of official court papers were delivered to the office. “We’re dead,” Ben said when he saw the boxes being wheeled in.

“There’s no way we’ll be able to read through all this by tonight,” Lisa said.

Ben read the sides of the boxes, which were labeled by year. “How about I start with the oldest stuff, and you take the newest? I figure we’ll hit the middle together sometime this winter.”

Lisa agreed and the two began to plow through the mountain of papers.

At two P.M., Ben’s phone rang. “Justice Hollis’s chambers. This is Ben,” he said.

“Hi Ben, this is Rick Fagen. I was a clerk for Justice Hollis three years ago. I was just calling to see how things were going. It’s a tradition for the older clerks to give you a call every once in a while. I know things can seem imposing in the first few weeks.”

“It’s a hell of a time, all right,” Ben said.

“Who is it?” Lisa asked.

Covering the phone, Ben whispered, “It’s one of Hollis’s old clerks.”

“Perfect,” Lisa said. “I got a call from a clerk last month. They totally know how to deal with this crap. Ask him what we should do.”

“Rick, can I ask you a question?” Ben said. “We just got a death penalty case-”

“Unbelievable,” Rick said. “They always do this early in the term. I assume Hollis is away?”

“Sunning and funning in Norway,” Ben said. “And we have to read a truckload of documents to recommend whether he should grant a stay.”

“Okay, here’s what to do,” Rick said, with a reassuring confidence in his voice. “If this case has been floating around for a few years, chances are you’ll never be able to read all the supporting documents. You should concentrate on the legal issue this final appeal is based on. All the other issues are unimportant. What I’d do is go on to one of the legal databases and key your search to the single legal issue you’re looking at. If it’s habeas, do a habeas search; if it’s a jury instruction question, do that. Westlaw is definitely the easiest way to-”

“I already went through Westlaw,” Ben said. “The problem is the record’s a mess. We can barely tell where to start.”

“Just focus on the original trial transcript, since so much of the appeal is usually based on a screwup that happened at the lowest level. Have any of the other justices reported in yet?”

“No,” Ben said, still writing down Rick’s instructions. “It just came to us this morning.”

“If you’re lucky, five of the other justices will grant the stay before you guys are done. That way you don’t even have to sweat it out.”

“And what are the chances of that?” Ben asked as Lisa read over his shoulder.

“It depends on the issue. If it’s a Fourth Amendment issue, Osterman and the conservative crew will never touch it. Dreiberg might pick it up, though. The key for you guys is that you understand you’re not writing your opinion, you’re writing Hollis’s. You may think this defendant got screwed, but you have to base it on what Hollis might think. Traditionally, he won’t touch a death penalty appeal unless it’s an innovative legal issue. Otherwise, he’s pretty happy to put his faith in the lower court’s decision.”