Balance of Power

* * *

Propelled by her sense of outrage, Lara turned to Palmer.

    'Accordingly, Senator Palmer, we request that before this committee votes on whether to send the bill to the full Senate, you hold a separate vote on whether it should immunize gun manufacturers from victims seeking justice.

    'If you do, I cannot help but believe that this shameful provision will never reach the Senate floor.'

    From the platform, Palmer held her gaze. A month ago he had been in her wedding party. Now, in her imaginings, he felt too much shame to look away.

    Beneath the table, Mary, who had danced with Chad at the wedding, touched her sister's hand.

* * *

'It's so tangled,' Lara said to Kerry.

    The time was close to midnight. Lara had stayed up late, listening to Mary's fears about the lawsuit, trying to ease the strain beneath the surface of their truce. Now Lara could not sleep.

    'You and Mary?' Kerry asked.

    'That. All of it, really. Facing Chad today, wondering why he's doing this, and how he could. Speaking for Felice Serrano, when I'm also speaking for you in a power struggle with Fasano. It's like our fam ily was murdered, and somehow Mary and I—and you and I—got sucked down the rabbit hole.'

    Lying beside her in the dark, Kerry pondered what to say. 'A rabbit hole,' he answered softly, 'where we make up the rules as we go, and real becomes unreal. Until no one knows what's real anymore.'

    Lara was quiet. 'Are we real?' she asked.

    Kerry drew her closer. 'I want to be. Again.'

    After a moment, to his surprise, she kissed him. The surprise was not in the kiss itself, but the nature of it, and what this told him without words.

    Gently, for the first time since the murders, Kerry and Lara made love.

NINETEEN

On the morning of the hearing before Judge Gardner Bond, Sarah and Lenihan were greeted by reporters, satellite trucks, and angry demonstrators on both sides, yelling at each other across a pathway to the federal building maintained by two lines of uniformed police. United States Marshals guarded the door to Bond's courtroom, and the wooden benches overflowed with more reporters and partisans. But at least the starkly modern courtroom was quieter, its sounds muted by decorum and dissipated by the majestic ceilings which distinguished the Federal District Court. Perhaps, Sarah reflected, justice, like mercy, was best hoped for in airy spaces.

    But her own hopes diminished within moments of Judge Bond's appearance on the bench. After curtly noting Lenihan and Sarah's presence, and that of John Nolan and Harrison Fancher, Bond said, 'The Court will begin by denying plaintiff's motion for a preliminary injunction.'

    No discussion, Sarah thought bitterly. In a clipped, relentless cadence, Bond continued, 'The next matter before the Court is defendants' motions to dismiss plaintiff's wrongful death, antitrust and public nuisance claims. We will take them each in turn, by defendant.' Facing Nolan, he concluded, 'Mr. Nolan, you have ten minutes to argue for the dismissal of Mary Costello's cause of action against Lexington Arms for the alleged wrongful deaths of her mother, sister and niece.'

    With that, Nolan stepped briskly to the podium. 'Let me begin,' he told Judge Bond, 'by acknowledging two principles.

    'First, on a motion to dismiss, this Court must assume that the facts alleged by Mary Costello are true. Second, if the facts alleged—even if true—do not state a cause of action under California law, which this Court must still apply, it must dismiss Miss Costello's claims for wrongful death.'

    Hands flat on the podium, Nolan paused, his voice resonant, his gaze up at Bond respectful but serene. 'This case,' he continued, 'began with a monstrous rampage in which John Bowden wounded the survivors beyond all hope of recompense. In our hearts, we hope for some way of healing what so many of us found very close to unbearable. But the law acknowledges what reason tells us—that the terrible scene at San Francisco International was the work of a single demented mind.'

    It was an elegant beginning, Sarah thought, Nolan at his most statesmanlike. Stone-faced, Lenihan began scribbling notes for his refutation.

    'Reason,' Nolan said abruptly, 'also tells us a harsher truth: that this lawsuit is nothing more than a publicity stunt—brought contrary to settled law—in the service of power politics . . .'

    'Mr. Nolan,' Bond admonished in his patrician manner, 'leave the 'power politics' to politicians. It's the 'contrary to settled law' which is the business of this Court.'

    'Of course, Your Honor.' Unfazed, Nolan continued as though the mild rebuke had been instructive, even agreeable. 'Plaintiff asks this Court to hold the maker of a legal firearm liable for its criminal misuse by a murderer it never heard of, and whose actions were beyond its control. That, we submit, is not— and cannot be—the law.

    'On this point, Congress has spoken. Guns are a legal product. The sale of a Patriot-2 and Eagle's Claw bullets in Nevada—if that's what happened here—is perfectly legal. And even if John Bowden purchased his P-2 at a gun show—a guess which we must, for the moment, accept as truth—not even plaintiff's highly creative counsel can allege that Lexington had anything to do with that.

    'Your Honor, we don't punish the maker of Ferraris because some driver breaks the speed limit. We don't sue the distiller of a single-malt Scotch because the driver was inebriated. California law recognizes that responsibility resides in the individual: in the reckless driver, the alcoholic—and in John Bowden, the murderer . . .'

    'And your authority?' Bond inquired.

    The hearing had begun to resemble a minuet, Sarah observed, in which both partners, Bond and Nolan, executed their steps with precision. 'Richards versus Stanley,' Nolan responded promptly, 'held that the owner of a stolen car is not liable for the reckless driving of a car thief, even though he carelessly left the keys in the ignition. That core principle is still the case.'

    Bond held up a hand. 'The difference, Mr. Nolan, is this so-called 'inflammatory advertising.' According to plaintiff 's complaint, Lexington's ad in the SSA magazine was a positive incentive to purchase and misuse by the demented.'

    'Damn right,' Lenihan murmured. At the podium, Nolan gathered himself. 'All that we really know, Your Honor, is that Bowden had the SSA magazine. We don't know—and I expect will never know—why or where or even when he bought it, who sold it to him or even what he was doing in Las Vegas. Without such proof, plaintiff has no case.'

    'That may well prove right,' Bond interrupted. 'And plaintiff's complaint may well be based on speculation . . .'

    'Sure,' Lenihan whispered to Sarah, 'Bowden picked up The Defender, then flew off to play the slot machines . . .'

    'But,' Bond continued, after a brief, sharp glance at Lenihan, 'at this point, as you conceded, this Court must accept plaintiff 's allegations that the advertisement led to Mr. Bowden's purchase. Given that, couldn't Lexington foresee that its ad copy might enhance the prospects of criminal misuse?'