Balance of Power

Arms, et al., filed this morning. The matter before me is Mary Costello's request for a temporary restraining order, seeking to stop defendants' alleged activities endangering the lives of Californians. Who speaks for the plaintiff?'

    As Lenihan rose, so did John Nolan. 'Excuse me, Your Honor. John Nolan for defendant Lexington Arms. Before we proceed, I would like to bring the Court's attention to a matter which should prevent us from proceeding further.'

    Though seemingly surprised, Rotelli nodded briskly. 'Yes, Mr. Nolan. I know who you are. What do you have for us?'

    'A petition for removal to federal court.' Advancing to the bench, Nolan handed up a sheaf of papers to Rotelli and then, turning with a glint of amusement the judge could not see, gave a duplicate to Lenihan.

    'This is bogus,' Lenihan protested to Rotelli. 'In this case, the standard for removal is that the lawsuit must raise issues which are uniquely matters of federal law. We assert no such issues. Clearly, the defense has filed a phony petition, solely for the purpose of delay.'

    This, Sarah knew, was utterly correct. But Nolan's reply was calm and unapologetic. 'Despite Mr. Lenihan's uncharitable gloss, his complaint—if that's what you can call a document so rife with rhetoric and bereft of law— does raise important federal issues. Specifically, exotic antitrust and public nuisance theories which implicate the Commerce Clause of the United States Constitution and which, in our humble view, threaten rights guaranteed by the Second Amendment of the Bill of Rights . . .'

    At once, Sarah realized that she had baited her own trap: though Nolan's argument was clearly erroneous, the theories she had urged on Lenihan gave it whatever plausibility it possessed. 'In any event,' Nolan continued, 'a removal petition is automatic. Once a defendant files it in federal court, as we have, the federal court must rule on it. As of now, this court has no jurisdiction and, therefore, no power to proceed.'

    On this point, Sarah thought with dismay, Nolan was correct. 'This is a bad-faith motion,' Lenihan objected. 'Deserving of sanctions . . .'

    Rotelli raised a hand, cutting Lenihan off. Brow furrowed, he riffled the pages Nolan had provided him, seemingly nettled by the motion and his imminent loss of an audience. Looking up from the papers to Nolan, he said, 'Without adopting Mr. Lenihan's characterization, I must say, Mr. Nolan, that my first impression of this is that it's very thin. But you're correct that I have no discretion.' Glancing at Lenihan, he spoke past the lawyers to the media. 'If this case again comes before this court, as I believe it should, a federal judge will have to send it here.'

    With that, Rotelli stood, nodded to both sides and vanished from the bench. Flushed with anger, Lenihan murmured to Sarah, 'That's only the down payment on suing the SSA. From here on out, we'll be paying on the installment plan.'

* * *

But at their press conference, Lenihan was the picture of confidence.

    He sat at a table between Sarah and Mary Costello, fondling the microphone in front of him as if it were a lover. Watching on CNN, Kerry remarked to Lara, 'For Bob, meeting the press is an erotic experience.'

    This, Lenihan stated, is the beginning of the end of gun violence in America.

    'I wish it were that easy,' Lara murmured. Kerry nodded: Lexington's opening salvo, the removal petition, had sobered them both, as did Mary's wan expression on the screen.

    Pausing, Lenihan placed a paternal hand on Mary's arm. The defendants know that, he continued. That's why they've induced their congressional protectors—including Senator Fasano and Speaker Jencks—to put forward a shameful piece of legislation solely designed to strip Mary Costello, and all those like her, of their right to pursue justice.

    This, Kerry acknowledged, was the beginning that he had hoped for. But its end was as unpredictable as its impact on Lara and her sister. Silent, he rested his hand on Lara's shoulder.

* * *

Shortly after seven p.m., Eastern Daylight Time, the SSA countered with a press conference of its own. Standing behind a podium, Dane's saturnine mien was solemn and stern. He spoke with a slow and measured indignation which was more impressive than Frank Fasano could have hoped—a reminder of the magnetism Dane exerted on his supporters.

    Drinking bourbon with Macdonald Gage, Fasano turned up the volume on his remote. This lawsuit, Dane began, is a moral outrage.

    This was murder. The murderer is to blame. If there is more blame to assign, it belongs to the legal system and . . . a brief pause . . . and the victims' powerful relatives, both of whom failed in their duty to protect them from John Bowden.

    Sitting beside Fasano, Gage laughed softly. It struck Fasano that anything Dane would say or do to torment Kerry Kilcannon was satisfying to Mac Gage. But Fasano himself was not so sanguine.

    But who do they blame? Dane went on. The SSA and Lexington Arms— one of America's time-honored purveyors of guns to freedom- loving citizens . . .

    'A little florid,' Fasano observed. 'This isn't the Fourth of July.'

    The SSA, Dane continued, is not a monolith. It's four million individual Americans, lawfully exercising rights granted them by our Founding Fathers. Our members didn't know John Bowden. They didn't control his actions. They played no role in Lexington's legal marketing of a completely legal product.

    Pausing, Dane jabbed his finger at the camera. Make no mistake, America—the monolith in this case is the federal government, deployed by a President who is using this case to destroy the very companies who make your rights a reality, and the one organization which can protect those rights from harm.

    Kerry Kilcannon's weapon is not a gun. It is a cabal of plaintiffs' lawyers, in league with the left-wing group which bears his family name, exploiting a tragedy to which, sadly, his own personal derelictions were a primary contributor . . .

    'He's on the edge,' Fasano remarked. 'Let's hope he doesn't say that Kilcannon has blood on his hands.'

    'Doesn't he?' Gage said with quiet bitterness. 'He certainly has mine.'

    Defending this abuse, Dane continued, may well cost us millions. But we will never settle. We will fight this case to the bitter end—if necessary, in the Supreme Court itself—in defense of that fundamental freedom which makes all other freedoms possible: the right to keep and bear arms.

    We call on our members to support us. We call on the American people to rise up as one in protest. Staring into the camera, Dane finished solemnly. We call on the leaders of Congress to put this outrage to an end . . .

    He was stuck, Fasano realized, and so was Kerry Kilcannon. What Kilcannon had set in motion—a race