Neil’s Blog

PART I: “AND GOD SAW THE EARTH, AND BEHOLD, IT WAS CORRUPT; FOR ALL FLESH HAD CORRUPTED THEIR WAY UPON THE EARTH. AND GOD SAID UNTO NOAH: ‘THE END OF ALL FLESH IS COME BEFORE ME; FOR THE EARTH IS FILLED WITH VIOLENCE THROUGH THEM; AND BEHOLD, I WILL DESTROY THEM WITH THE EARTH.’” GENESIS, 6:12-13.

At the sound of his name, Emanuel woke up from his dream. For a moment he was disoriented because the dream had been so real and so frustrating. His heart was racing and he was breathing heavily. He hated the plane crash dream because it always made him feel like a failure.

“Mr. Adams. Mr. Adams. This is Judge Henry’s clerk, are you there?”

Emanuel stroked the leather of his office couch to reassure himself of his location then reached down to his belt, unclipped his phone, and brought it up to his face.

“This is Adams,” he said, looking into the minicamera on the phone so the clerk could see him.

“Mr. Adams, the jury has reached a verdict. Could you please return to the courthouse?”

“Of course,” Emanuel said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Emanuel jumped off the couch, rubbed his eyes, grabbed his suit jacket and headed off to D.C. Superior Court to hear the outcome of his latest trial.

Later that day, Emanuel strolled into the Old Ebbitt Grill. His favorite restaurant greeted him like a mistress at noontime, inviting but improper. Emanuel had picked up the habit of eating dinner alone at the bars of nice restaurants from his days living in Manhattan. New York is a lonely town and people there would rather have strangers for company at dinner than sit alone in a shoebox apartment with the television. He first latched onto the Old Ebbitt because it was right next to his office on 15th Street, but he stayed with it because of its warm, upscale saloon atmosphere. The food was hearty and affordable and the bartenders were the best in town.

Emanuel’s fingers clung gingerly to the jacket of his navy blue, pinstriped suit, which was draped over his right shoulder as he sauntered across the Old Ebbitt’s foyer to the bar. His red silk tie was loosened around his neck and his white shirt had lost its starch after the long day. A mischievous smile on his face suggested that he knew he was getting away with something.

Doc the bartender had Emanuel’s Kettle One vodka martini ready as Emanuel sidled up to the bar. It only took a month of Emanuel’s nightly visits before Doc started looking out for him and chilling the vodka as Emanuel twirled through the revolving front door. Doc would make sure the vodka was on the edge of freezing, rinse the glass with vermouth, and throw in three big olives, exactly the way Emanuel instructed him on the first night. It was a game between them now to see if Doc could have the martini ready at the precise moment Emanuel sat down. He was perfect this time.

“Counselor, how’d they treat ya today?” Doc asked with his thick Scottish brogue.

Emanuel shook Doc’s hand and took a sip of his drink before answering. “Not too bad, Doc. Six months suspended, two years probation and another happy customer back on the streets where he belongs.”

“Wonderful mate. Another human being escaping a vacation in the clink, and all thanks to you.”

“Cheers to that, Doc.” Emanuel raised his glass and took another sip.

“I love it when the judicial system works the way it should.”

“And how’s that, mate?”

“Fair and equitable treatment. You should’ve seen my client today, Doc. Eighteen years old and staring five years in the pen right in the face because he was busted with too much pot on him. The kid was pulled over randomly by the cops who asked if they could search his car. And he consented.”

“They can do that?”

“Sure. The law allows them to make random stops and ask for consensual searches. If you say ‘yes,’ they go to it. This kid didn’t know he had the rightto say ‘no.’”

“That’s scary. We’ve turned into a police state.”

“Almost. The kid was trembling next to me trying not to cry while we waited for the verdict. His grandmother, on the other hand, was standing right behind us howling like a sick cat. They were both sure he was getting the maximum sentence. I wasn’t so sure myself. Luckily, I convinced the jury that the exact amount of marijuana they found on him was in question and they found him guilty of the lesser offense.”

“Nice work, mate. You think the kid will stay clean?”

“Probably not. I sure hope so, though. He’s a nice kid.”

“Well, God knows I keep your card on me at all times, just in case.”

“Doc, I would defend you with every last ounce of strength I have, because I like you and because if you weren’t here making my martinis that would really be a crime. One more please,” Emanuel said popping a vodka-soaked olive in his mouth.

“Ah, it’s so nice to be appreciated. Ta.”

Doc began the delicate process of making the martini while Emanuel looked up at the trophy heads hanging on the wall above the bar. He felt mixed emotions about how glorious the antelope and deer were, and feeling regret that they were stuffed on a wall. Then he felt a moment of self-pity since those figures seemed like the most familiar faces in his life. Emanuel shook off the sentiment and turned his attention to the large monitor behind the bar. Unlike bars outside the beltway where ball games entertained the patrons, the monitor at the Old Ebbitt was always tuned to C-SPAN. The sport of the Nation’s Capitol was politics, and the Old Ebbitt was a main hangout for the players.

C-SPAN’s billing for the night was the Reverend Jackson Emerson Winston addressing a large crowd at a political dinner at Washington’s famous Hay-Adams Hotel as part of his campaign for the presidency. It was March 15, the November election was fast approaching, and Winston was pushing hard, gearing up for the stretch run. He was ahead in the polls of both the incumbent, Republican Stephen Taylor and Democrat August Fowler, and by most accounts he was going to become the first third-party president of the United States.

Emanuel took a sip of his new martini as he focused on Winston’s talking head. As he felt the burn of the cold drink, he could not help noticing that Winston was an unbelievably striking man. His sandy blond hair, thick and wavy, was coifed in a conservative yet stylish manner that allowed a few strands to curl across his forehead. His eyes, translucent blue, forced you to look right into them whenever they focused on you. Winston had a chiseled face with a perfectly straight nose and a square, cleft chin. He exuded confidence and strength without saying a word. The fact that he was an eloquent speaker just added to his allure.

Emanuel looked down the bar and he noticed several people had stopped their conversations in order to listen to Winston speak.

“Friends,” Winston began. His sonorous voice sang through the monitor into the dinner hour bustle at the Old Ebbitt. “When I started out my evangelical life, I honestly never envisioned standing before a group of people, asking for them to support me in a bid for the White House. I was a simple traveling preacher looking for a flock.” Winston paused and smiled softly, humbly, remembering those early days.

“What I found in those days, my friends, were millions of Americans looking for hope. That’s right, it was the 1980s and millions of Americans were still looking for light in their life. Believe it or not, with all due respect to President Ronald Reagan, the end of the Cold War did not fundamentally affect most Americans. The Soviet Union was a distant enemy — a faraway threat less imposing than so many things occurring right here at home.”

“I found this out talking to people as I traveled throughout the country. Then I, like many others, benefited from technology, first with my television shows and then with the Internet, to find out first hand what America was thinking. And, you know what they were thinking, friends?” Winston paused again as a preacher addressing a congregation, not a stumping candidate.

“They were thinking, there is a moral divide in this country. No longer did race, or national origin, or even wealth divide America, but rather, faith. My brothers and sisters, there was a huge moral hole right through our society, that in my opinion still exists today, and it needs to be filled. It desperately needs to be filled.” Winston was now stalking the stage with microphone in hand, eschewing the traditional staid manor of speaking to a formal dinner crowd.

“Who remembers Columbine High School and the tragedy that occurred there?” Almost every hand in the room shot up in the air in an obedient solute.“Who remembers fifteen-year-old Mary Stevens hiding under a desk in the school library when the two violent and lost souls approached her. They asked her ‘Mary do you believe in God?’ She like the good Christian she was, responded ‘Yes,’ and then lost her life to a bullet. That gentle soul never fulfilled its earthly promise because our society was corrupt, filled with violent images in the media, movies, television, video games, and the Internet. Moral decay was pervasive, my friends, and people were tired of it.”

At this point the camera panned throughout the Hay-Adams ballroom. Emanuel was amazed at the diversity in the room. It was not the traditional white, right wing, born again Christians that might be expected to support a leader like Winston. Rather, there were faces of every shade of color, some with the smooth, glowing skin of youth and others with the wrinkles of old age. The eyes, hair, and noses likewise evidenced a crowd that stemmed from numerous races and cultures. And, Winston had them all enraptured.

“Need I even speak of the corruption in the White House in the late 1990s, my friends? Need I rehash the dishonor and ill repute brought to that grand building right across Lafayette Square? I will not disrespect you with the salacious details of that era in presidential history except to say, that it was the ultimate indication that there was moral rot in America and the people were tired of it.”

“And we all know when the chickens came home to roost, don’t we? September 11, 2001. That attack on our society and our way of life was a wake up call. A distant and foreign enemy shrouded in the guise of religious belief claimed moral superiority. They attacked our economy, our military, and more importantly, our values. That enemy started a war that we are currently fighting, and unfortunately, losing. President Taylor’s policies have led to the capture of some terrorist operatives, but we still live in fear. Why? Because every time we capture a terrorist, ten more sprout up, like weeds. Because, we’ve been afraid to admit that this is a cultural war – a war of two religions. It is time to cry from the mountaintop that fundamentalist Islam must be defeated!”

Winston was speaking at a fevered pitch at this point and paused to compose himself. Now, like all great performers he changed tempo.

“Remember, friends, God does choose sides. The Egyptians perished in the crashing waves of the Red Sea as the Israelites escaped bondage. God chose sides. When I’m elected President, we will fight and win this war and God will be on our side. Remember though that the Israelites paid their price too. Their heathen and decadent behavior at the base of Mt. Sinai, worshipping golden idols led to forty years in the desert and cost Moses passage to the land of Canaan. Our lesson from scripture is that our eternal battle to become a more righteous society continues on. Not everyone was willing to look in the mirror after September 11 and ask, ‘How can I become a better person from this. How can we become a better country.’ I did.”

“I am a humble servant of God, my friends,” Winston whispered into the microphone. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was serve Him, in any way I could. There came a time, however, when I realized that to serve Him, was to serve America. This great country of ours, that gave me everything, had a moral hole, and I believe the Lord wanted me to fill it. That’s why I started the Freedom party, my friends, and that is why I am running for President of the United States.”

“We’ve made so many great strides to date. We’ve forced Hollywood to tone down its act, so to speak, and respect the fact that our children should not be exposed to gratuitous sex and violence. We’ve pushed for more religious activities in our schools to give our children a moral compass, and it’s worked. We’ve worked hard to remove weapons from our streets and keep them out of the hands of children who might abuse them. We’ve made great strides, friends, but the largest steps are still yet to come.” The crowd erupted in joyous praise of Winston’s words.

Emanuel finished up his martini and ordered another.

“What do you think of Reverend Winston?”

“Excuse me?” Emanuel turned toward the voice of a woman who had come to stand next to him at the bar.

“I asked you what you thought of Reverend Winston, since you seemed so interested in what he had to say.”

Before he answered Emanuel sized up the woman. She was in her mid-thirties with a wedding ring noticeably absent from her left hand as she nervously ran her fingers through her hair. Her suit and shoes looked expensive, as did the dye job on her shoulder-length auburn hair. While a few crows’ feet around her yellowish eyes hinted at approaching middle age, her pale skin was still holding onto the luster and texture of youth. Emanuel had no doubt that she was a lawyer.

“I don’t think Reverend Winston has the ability to change my life one way or another even if he does get elected. I also care even less about politics than I do about religion so that makes Winston a pretty unimportant figure in my life.”

“Really? Then why were you listening to his speech so intently?”

“Couple of reasons,” Emanuel answered. “First, I am fascinated by the man. Even in the Twenty-First Century he’s been able to instill the fear of God in people, probably enough to get elected President of the United States. If that isn’t the greatest scam I’ve ever heard I don’t know what is.”

The woman laughed at Emanuel’s cynical attitude.

“Second, up until a minute ago I didn’t have anyone to talk to so I was forced to watch that damn monitor. My name is Emanuel Adams. How do you do?” Emanuel extended his hand.

“Faye Aldridge. Pleased to meet you.”

The two shook hands in a long deliberate manner as if they would learn more about each other through that physical contact.

“Faye, I’m going to have to order you a martini since I have one, and Doc here makes the best in town. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I won’t try then.” Faye laughed; thrilled her pick-up attempt was successful.

“Doctor,” Emanuel belted out across the bar while raising his glass. “Another one for the lady here.”

Doc was almost finished making the martini before Emanuel asked for it. He delayed delivering the drink for a minute so as not to tip Faye off, and then placed it in front of her. Doc turned away and chuckled to himself. He had seen this move so many times before, yet it still worked. Emanuel would sit alone at the bar drinking martinis and inevitably a woman would approach him. He never approached them and hardly even looked around the bar in the typical searching gesture of the lonely drinker. Doc wasn’t sure if Emanuel affected this pose to attract women or if he really was that indifferent. Either way, Emanuel’s self-assured and confident air always seemed to draw at least one woman over into his pensive world. Emanuel’s tall, athletic build, thick salt and pepper hair, and swarthy features also added to his allure. Doc always noticed, however, that Emanuel seemed much happier after he had some companionship.

“So Faye, what do you do?” Emanuel had to ask the standard D.C. question even though he knew the answer.

“I’m an attorney for Powers & Boothe. Antitrust. How about you?” Faye took a sip of her martini.

“I’m also a lawyer, believe it or not. I do criminal defense for the prestigious firm of the Law Offices of Emanuel Adams. You must have heard of us?”

Faye laughed, appreciative of Emanuel’s self-deprecating humor. She was delighted that she’d met a tall lawyer with a full head of hair who didn’t take himself too seriously. Most men in Washington were so full of themselves they could hardly wait to tell you how important they were. And most often they never backed up this attitude with charm, wit, or looks. She was having a wonderful time already.

“Criminal defense, huh?” Faye said. “You don’t meet many of those. How do you deal with defending people you know are guilty? I could never do that.”

“I don’t. I think we’re all guilty of something. It’s just a matter of degree. Society just decides to incarcerate some people for certain acts while letting other acts go unpunished. I also don’t believe in prisons and I don’t think I’m in any position to make a moral determination about what acts are worse than others. For example, I could care less if someone uses drugs and I sure as hell don’t think they should spend time in jail for doing so. I’m not saying they should be legal necessarily, but drug related offenses should be decriminalized.”

“What about dealing? Don’t you think that dealing is worse than using?”

“No. It’s a free market isn’t it? Nobody forces an individual to buy coke that first time and yank down a few lines. It’s their choice.”

“I’ll agree with you on that one, and not a bad choice at that.” Faye gave a coy little smile and Emanuel could tell the alcohol was taking quick effect.

“What about murder, though? That seems clear cut,” Faye asked.

“Not to me. Sometimes we say killing is justified, like in war or self-defense, or when we execute people. Other times we just don’t like the reasons people give us for killing. All I’m saying is I don’t want to make the determination over what’s legitimate and what’s not. I’d rather just make an argument to keep people out of prison and let others decide the morality issue.”

“So you don’t believe in right or wrong, good and evil?”

“Not really. The concept of right and wrong comes from religions that try to control human nature. I don’t think you can really do that. People will do what their instincts tell them, just like animals.”

“I thought those concepts came from God, like the Ten Commandments. God created us and told us not to do certain things, right?”

“I’m not sure I believe in God, so I can’t believe that a higher power handed down laws for us. I think they were self-imposed by a certain segment of society like the right Reverend Winston.”

“You don’t believe in God? I thought everyone did these days.”

“Nope, and I also don’t believe in talking about religion when drinking martinis. It puts a bad taste in my mouth and changes the flavor of the vodka.”

Faye laughed playfully and subconsciously inched closer to Emanuel. Her eyes were locked on his and he could tell he had captured her imagination.

“So Faye, how about another round?”

“I’d love one.”

A few blocks away from the Old Ebbitt Grill, Satya Grady was sitting in Lafayette Square smoking a Swisher Sweet cigar. He was staring at the White House, directly across Pennsylvania Avenue from the square. Such a beautiful building, Satya thought to himself. It was all lit up and so shiny white that it looked like they scrubbed it clean every day. It certainly was not a palace or a castle, but the White House did have a powerful and divine quality to it.

Satya’s black eyes panned the White House and its surroundings in an effort to capture every detail in his memory. Pennsylvania Avenue was now a pedestrian promenade littered with enormous potted plants and barriers to prevent terrorist attacks and the wrought iron fence around the White House had been raised higher and electrified over the years. There were also more guards visible around the building heavily armed with automatic weapons. Instead of the old sports utility vehicles that used to carry Secret Service agents around, armored vehicles slowly patrolled Pennsylvania Avenue and the adjacent streets with powerful searchlights streaking across the sky.

These draconian measures were due to the increase in violent actions taken against United States government within its own borders. It started with the Oklahoma City bombing and then the attack in Congress where two Capitol policemen were killed. Then September 11, 2001, and the subsequent terrorist attacks changed everything. America became a place that expected both crime and terror. Satya Grady was keenly aware of this fact since it was part of his everyday life. As a New York City cop his whole life was filled with violence and unfathomable acts.

Satya took a long pull of his cigar, inhaling a tad before exhaling into the night. He loved America. It had been good to his family ever since they stepped off the boat at the turn of the 20th century. His family had moved all over the world for centuries like nomads. They would stay someplace for a while until they felt they had worn out their welcome due to their religion and culture and then they would move on. Finally, they had arrived in the land of religious freedom. At that time, before immigration reform closed America’s borders, America opened its arms to the poor refugees of the world and they came in a flood of humanity.

Satya’s grandparents were so grateful for the opportunity that they instilled in their children a great love for the United States. His parents instilled this same value into him and as he stared across at the White House he felt a lump in his throat and tears welling in his eyes. Satya knew one thing for certain: his love for his country had not wavered over the course of his life.

Religious freedom and economic prosperity were the ideals that brought most people to America as it did Satya’s family. They certainly enjoyed this freedom, instilling in Satya as great an appreciation for his faith as they did for the United States. Satya thought back to his childhood when his grandfather used to sit him down on his lap and tell him stories with his thick accent. He would recount old fables that had been passed down for generations. Then Satya’s grandfather would whisper in his ear, “In America, you can be who you are with pride, not like in the rest of the world. Here there are laws that say you can be any religion you want. Never forget that, and never forget who you are.”

Satya never forgot his roots. He was a religious man. He had participated in all the rituals of his religion growing up and attended religious school three days a week in addition to regular school. At twenty-two he married Kim Morris, a girl from his neighborhood who had a similar background. Satya and Kim had three children all of who received the same religious upbringing that Satya had.

Satya took another pull off his cigar and contemplated how all he really cared about was being an American and a man of God. He loved both ideas dearly.

The night air became a touch colder and Satya pulled the jacket of his uniform closer around him and turned the collar up. He took a last puff on his cigar and then tossed it onto the red bricks of the square and stomped it out with his standard issue boot. Next, Satya knelt on the ground and clasped his hands in front of him. He began to pray, bowing down to God and asking Him to protect his family. As Satya prayed, the tears that had welled up in his eyes spilled over and streamed down his cheeks. He prayed on and on while the tears kept flowing.

When Satya was finished praying he stood up and brushed himself off. He looked up at the night sky for a few moments and then stared again at the White House. He pulled out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes and cheeks and blew his nose. Then he unholstered his nine-millimeter and checked it to see that it was clean, loaded with a full clip, and the safety was off. Satisfied, Satya put the gun back in its holster and took one last look at the White House before setting off toward the Hay-Adams hotel.

“Ladies and gentleman, I want to sincerely thank you for coming out tonight in support of my bid to become the first third party President of the United States.”

Reverend Winston paused to allow the crowd to give him the due applause. He looked out at the beautiful old ballroom of the Hay-Adams Hotel relishing in his position of power. Then he looked into the eyes of his supporters and knew that he had them mesmerized.

“While I am ahead in the polls, we all know it’s a long road ahead and that road is filled with uncertainties. What is not uncertain, however, is my pledge to you and the rest of the American people that I will devote every ounce of my energy to this campaign. I think the time is right for a new order in this country of ours and it is my destiny and that of the Freedom party to fill this new order”

Reverend Winston shook his fist as he said this and once again stepped back from the podium. The crowd, elegantly dressed in black tie and evening gowns rose to its feet in raucous applause. They were in a trance, and acted in unison, like a fleet of automatons controlled by Winston. They all had the same smile on their faces and gleam in their eyes as they clapped rhythmically in perfect time.

Winston held up his hands in an attempt to quiet the crowd, and eventually they returned to their seats. He continued on:

“My fellow Americans, brothers and sisters, before I leave you tonight, I will make one more pledge. I pledge that if I am elected president of this great country you will see a change in government the likes of which Washington has never experienced. Politics will no longer be about infighting and partisan tactics that do no one any good. Rather, the American people will come first again. We are all in this together whether Republican, Democrat, or Freedom party. And each and every one of us, is a spiritual person who has faith and an inherent understanding of what is right and wrong. America has strayed from the path of righteousness and together, you and I will find that path again. Thank you and God bless you.”

With his emphatic last words, Winston stepped away from the microphone and waved to the crowd. Winston’s wife Judy joined him on the dais and they linked arm in arm. She gave him an innocent kiss on the cheek and together they waved to the crowd, now giddy with excitement. Judy was a perfect complement to Winston, tall, slender, blonde, blue eyed, and attractive. When she smiled her eyes lit up in a genuine fashion and there was no doubt she had complete faith in her husband. Not since John and Jacqueline Kennedy had American politics seen such a beautiful couple.

After soaking in the adulation for a moment the couple walked off the stage and out a side door of the ballroom. As they exited the door, security agents surrounded them and led them through the hotel to the limousine waiting for them out front. Winston and his entourage crossed the foyer of the Hay-Adams and then burst through the front doors of the hotel. As they broke into the night, they were confronted by a mob of reporters and cameramen blinding them with bright lights and shoving microphones at them. Photographers took pictures in rapid fire with flash bulbs going off like fireworks.

Winston was forced into an impromptu press conference so he took the opportunity to answer a few questions.

“Reverend Winston,” a reporter shouted, “is it true that you plan to expand military spending to increase our armed forces even more than President Taylor?”

“That is true indeed, but the enlarged military would be for humanitarian purposes, not for threatening other governments or waging war. Rather, it is my belief that we as the most powerful nation in the world should use our might to help the less fortunate in the world. We will nation-build.”

“Reverend Winston, could you discuss the abortion issue for a moment please?” another reporter shouted.

“Unlike President Taylor, I’m one hundred percent against it. It’s murder, plain and simple, and against everything that all religions stand for. Terminating a life just because the parents don’t want to care for the life is disgusting. There are far too many people in our society who are willing to care for children if the biological parents don’t want to.”

“My first order of business as President will be inserting into the federal budget money for federal adoption centers to place unwanted children with people who want them, and second, to work towards a constitutional amendment criminalizing the act of performing and receiving abortions. Physicians take an oath to protect life and then they capitalize on women who want to destroy it. I quote you the story of Adam and Eve. When they violated God’s law, they were punished and banished from the Garden of Eden. And, the serpent who facilitated the evil . . . well, we all know who he was.”

“My policy will be, across the board, whether it be abortion or crime, you either turn to your government for help which will be abundantly provided, or you suffer the consequences. In the case of abortion, I’m telling women if you have an unwanted pregnancy don’t make your child suffer. Endure and have the child and then the state will take care of it for you. Nine months is a small price to pay for a human life.”

As Winston was expounding his abortion policy, he noted something strange out of the corner of his eye. There was a man standing behind the reporters in a policeman’s uniform. At first, Winston was not bothered, as it was perfectly normal to have policemen around public appearances for security. Slowly, however, Winston mentally registered the bothersome fact that the man was wearing a uniform that did not resemble that of a D.C. cop or Capitol policeman. It was a subtle point, but one that Winston could not ignore.