grace.
As Landon’s eyes turned back to the crowd, he caught sight of an NBC producer, eyes pleading for action, as if to say the networks weren’t giving up advertising revenue only so the public could watch a senator gaze at his wife.
Landon glanced back at her again, then faced the cameras and removed his notes from his suit breast pocket.
“I have served as a United States senator for the last fourteen years and have sought to represent the people and the interests of the State of California.”
He paused and scanned the standing-room-only crowd.
“What does that mean? To represent. To act for others.”
He paused again.
“Who are the people? And what is in their interest?
“Does representation mean casting my vote to reflect the polls? Or does it mean voting my conscience that tells me what’s right, what’s wrong, and what’s in the true interest of the country, regardless of what the polls might say? It means all of this and, as it turns out, a great deal more.
“I say these things as a preface to a story I need to tell not only to the people of California, but to the people of the United States, for I serve in the United States Senate, not the California state legislature. This story recounts how I became elected to that body, how it happened that I continued to serve in that body, and finally became a candidate for president.”
Landon looked toward the rear of the packed room where producers and camera operators lined the wall.
“Cognizant as I am of deadlines, news cycles, and the short attention span of the press, I shall begin with a sound bite that can be quickly digested.”
Landon stared at the NBC camera.
“Unbeknownst to me, I have been the beneficiary of both corruption at an unimaginable level and disgraceful political maneuvering that destroyed not only lives, but the reputations and careers of each of my senatorial opponents in turn.”
The crowd condensed into a stunned mass. Not a gasp. Not a stir. Not a word.
“It began twenty years ago…”
F ifteen minutes later, the press had answers to questions none of them would have ever thought to ask, but not the one Landon posed when he began.
Landon thought about the president watching in the White House, knowing Duncan was as shaken as he was.
“Now,” Landon said, “let’s return to where we began. With the matter of how I’m to represent the people of the State of California, people who were deprived of the senators they would’ve chosen had the political process not been corrupted, but in whose interests I must act.
“I return, therefore, to one of my initial questions. What is that interest? Is it a matter of polls or conscience? Is it a particular interest relating to these nominees for the Supreme Court or a general one relating to how we are to be governed? It seems to me it is all of these.”
Landon gripped the podium, shoulders square.
“The bottom line is this. I believe these two nominees are highly qualified to serve as justices of the Supreme Court of the United States. I recognize they hold views considered by many to be extreme. The fact is that in good conscience I share many of those views, and do not at all think they are extreme.
“Given the tragic death of Senator Lightfoot, and given that ninety-eight other senators have already announced their intentions, it would appear the confirmation of these nominees rests in my hands.”
Landon paused, staring at his notes, then folded them and returned them to his pocket.
“But that’s not true. In fact, these confirmations were never in my hands. They were in the hands of the people of California. Even before the nominations were made by the president, before the Senate Judiciary Committee held its hearings and sent them on to the full Senate. Indeed, even before the tragic events of last night. In truth, these nominations were in the hands of the people of California when they walked into their polling booths, when they marked their ballots or touched the computer screens.
“I firmly believe that had it not been for corruption and deceit, I wouldn’t be in a position to decide whether these nominees become justices of the Supreme Court.”
Landon took in a long breath and exhaled. It was as if he was the only one in the room who breathed at all.
“An argument could be made, and I’ve made it to myself, that the appropriate course of action is to abstain from voting. The matter would then go forward as if I was not present, and the vice president would break the forty-nine to forty-nine tie.”
Landon imagined the president leaning forward in his chair, praying that Landon had devised a way to salvage the nominations.
“But that would leave the people of the State of California unrepresented, with no one to stand in their place and act for them, in the most important confirmations in our nation’s history. It is for that reason I will vote against…”
P resident Duncan pressed the mute button on the remote and stared at length at the screen, at the now- vacant podium in front of which a CNN reporter stood.
“Mr. President?” Stuart Sheridan asked.
“It’s all down the tubes. Every bit of it.”
“But we can nominate-”
Duncan shook his head. “Landon took us all down. The Democrats are going to own the nominating process.”
“But…”
“We did everything right. Everything. How the hell were we supposed to know?”
Chapter 93
'Are you going to be there?” John Porzolkiewski asked Gage in the visiting room at the San Francisco jail.
Gage shook his head. “There’s no reason. But are you sure you don’t want a lawyer?”
“You know what you told me when I first got arrested? You told me not to waste the money.”
“That was a different situation.”
“It was worse than different.” Porzolkiewski smiled. “You were the one who got me arrested, then told me to trust you to figure out what happened even though you didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t do it.”
Gage smiled back. “It makes you look like an idiot when you put it that way.”
“Thanks. That’s a confidence builder an hour before court.” Porzolkiewski glanced at the new indictment lying on the table. “Isn’t it ironic? I got charged with going after the same guy twice. Two different ways at two different times. I wonder if it’s ever happened before.”
“That’s all the more reason to let Skeeter Hall help you. It was his and his associates’ research that helped us figure everything out and he’d like to do more.” Gage tilted his head toward the waiting room beyond the two sets of security doors. “He’s sitting out there with one of the best criminal defense lawyers in the city.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got to do this alone.”
“Except it’s pretty complicated. Legally. Medically. The DA could still bring in an expert to testify that Palmer wouldn’t have died from the poisoned prescription if he hadn’t already been weakened by you shooting him. That would make you guilty of the homicide.”
Porzolkiewski shook his head. “I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.” He then hunched forward and stared down at the metal table. “You know, I’m not so different from the people who killed my son.”
“You’re a lot different.”
Porzolkiewski rotated his head and looked up at Gage. “It’s just a matter of degree.” He dropped his head
