Balance of Power

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    Leo Weller, Fasano observed, was now glued to the screen, all scorn or jollity vanished. There was a political problem, Fasano faintly remembered, in Montana—something about mines and asbestosis. On the screen, Kilcannon raised his head with an air of challenge.

    My political opponents, he said in a calm clear voice, will accuse me of class rhetoric and facile populism. But their antilawyer rhetoric too often masks a defense of privilege against the rights of ordinary Americans. Pausing, the President gazed out at his listeners. Too often, this simplistic lawyer-bashing helps them to manipulate the legislative process to protect their corporate patrons, and to bar the ordinary people their patrons injure from seeking justice.

    If this sounds too harsh, ponder why we have consumer protection laws which protect children from defects in toy guns and candy cigarettes, but exempt the real thing . . .

    'No mystery,' Palmer answered. 'It's because the folks who made the real thing have bought us. That's what campaign finance reform is all about.' Under his breath, Leo Weller issued a grumble of dissent.

    In those cases, Kilcannon was saying, litigation is not simply the last resort of ordinary people—it's the only protection they've got.

    Abruptly, his tone became softer and more conciliatory. The question is not whether some lawyers are unscrupulous—they are.

    The question is not whether some lawsuits are frivolous—they are.

    The question is not whether litigation burdens your businesses—it does.

    The ultimate question, simply, is whether ordinary people who are injured deserve their day in court.

    And that, regrettably, is the most basic question Senator Harshman—and his leader, Senator Fasano—have failed to address.

    Watching, Fasano tried to detach himself as Palmer had, to study his opponent as one professional appraising another. Kilcannon's gift for confrontation and edgy rhetoric, Fasano believed, was a distinctly twoedged sword, creating both fervent admirers and dedicated detractors by the minute. But Kilcannon was skilled at turning on a dime from confrontation to conciliation, with a persuasive power which might beguile many of those listening. And he had another strength, just as disconcerting. Unlike some politicians, whom television tends to flatten to a single dimension, Kilcannon was as vivid on the screen as he was in person. All of which made Fasano's knowledge of what was coming even more unpleasant.

    Although Senator Harshman also failed to mention this, Kilcannon continued, I'm quite sympathetic to your concerns. But we have to find a balance. That's why I proposed tort reform legislation which would cap attorneys' fees, and limit the punitive damage awards which can be so catastrophic to your businesses.

    Your own leaders favored such a compromise. But Senator Fasano refused to support it . . .

    'I imagine,' Palmer observed wryly, 'that he's about to tell us why.'

    Fasano smiled. 'I'm sure he'll be at least as kind to me as Paul was to him.'

    The reason is simple, Kilcannon went on. Buried at the heart of the Civil Justice Reform Act supported by Senator Fasano is a provision immunizing gun companies from lawsuits.

    I asked that it be stricken. Your officers agreed. Senator Fasano refused. So you may want to consider whether the Republican leadership's priorities are your priorities. And then, perhaps, you might ask Senator Fasano why the gun lobby's wish list takes precedence over your much broader core concerns.

    ' 'Because,' ' Palmer answered dryly for Fasano, ' 'the right of patriotic Americans to bear arms should be sacred to you all.' '

    It's a curious thing, Kilcannon was saying with a glimmer of amusement. Senator Fasano and his colleagues are fervent defenders of states' rights and local control. Yet they propose to rewrite the laws of all fifty states, to wipe out all future lawsuits against gun manufacturers by the victims or survivors of gun violence. Gaze sweeping the hall, Kilcannon added in a soft, ironic tone, They even propose to wipe out suits which have already been filed, whoever the plaintiff and wherever the lawsuit may be found . . .

    'I wonder,' Fasano remarked, 'if he has any particular plaintiff in mind.'

    'Why not?' Palmer answered. 'The SSA does.'

    Many of you may not believe that such victims or their families should recover damages. Fine. If they're not entitled to do so under existing state law, then they won't. But the Republican leadership should not sacrifice the many interests of your members simply to ensure that the survivors of those who are killed with guns never receive a dime . . .

    'Ever hear of life insurance?' Leo Weller retorted.

    'Jesus,' Chad Palmer jibed good-naturedly. 'I hope you don't try that one on the stump. Your opponent will kick your ass without ever leaving home.'

    'The people of Montana,' Leo rejoined, 'don't like gun-grabbers or plaintiffs' lawyers. Or East Coast liberals like your pal Kilcannon.' With a disgusted wave of the hand toward the President's image, Weller left.

    I will veto this bill, Kilcannon concluded. I cannot, in good conscience,

accept what is unconscionable. But the compromise I've offered you still stands. Just tell Senator Fasano to call me, day or night . . .

    'Still with me?' Fasano asked Palmer in a muted, mocking tone. 'Or should we call KFK together?'

    Palmer shoved his hands in his pockets. 'We're not whores like Leo,' he answered. 'We gave each other our word, and now we're both going to keep it.'

* * *

    Returning from his meeting with Cassie Rollins, Dane switched on CNN, intending to glance at it while returning his messages.

    From Atlantic City, Kilcannon had traveled to his hometown of Newark—on the television, with the word 'LIVE' emblazoned beneath their images, the President and First Lady were visiting an elementary school in Vailsburg, Kilcannon's old neighborhood. Beside them, looking discomfited, was Democratic Senator James Torchio of New Jersey, a swing vote on tort reform. As they sat in a circle with a mixture of black, white, and Hispanic schoolkids, a boy of roughly seven described the killing of his sister by a playmate with a loaded gun.

    Finishing, the boy turned to Lara. Baldly, he said, They shot your sister, too. I saw it on TV—she was bloody and everything.

    For an instant, the First Lady seemed stricken. The boy looked confused, as though wondering if he had said something wrong. Then Lara crossed the circle, taking him in her arms. Then you know how I feel, she told him gently. And I know how you feel.

    Dane stabbed the remote button, and the screen went dark.