DP Tool Club 8/CDASC08.ISO/VRAC/SUN9309.ZIP/FIC2

Text File | 1993-08-22 | 27KB | 424 lines

The Right of the People
Copyright (c) 1993, Robert McKay
All rights reserved



                        The Right of the People
                            by Robert McKay
A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free
State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be
infringed.
                                    --US Constitution, Second Amendment

     Corban was now, finally, president.  He'd fought long and hard to
reach the Oval Office, and yesterday he'd been officially sworn in.
The ceremony, held in the Ceremonial Room of the Capitol building, had
been closed to all but the necessary dignitaries and press people - it
was much too dangerous for a president to appear outside for the length
of time necessary for the requisite speeches and ceremonials.  No
matter how tight the security, an assassin would manage to get through
some day - the odds might be astronomical against any particular
president being killed, but one certainly would be if he stood outside
and went through the forms.  The last five presidents had used the
Ceremonial Room, since England Chalmers had caused it to be built for
his second inaugural in 2005.
     Corban was a man who had often known defeat.  He'd climbed slowly
from a seat on the Needles city council to several posts in the county
government, only to be turned out of appointed office by a revolution
at the polls which swept the Democrats from power.  Starting from
scratch, and with his past experience to bolster his bids, he ran for
the state legislature, and lost; ran again, and lost; ran for mayor of
Needles, and lost; ran for governor, and lost; and finally ran for
lieutenant governor and won, with his running mate, by a bare margin.
His career again seemed to proceed smoothly, until he passed from
lieutenant governor to governor to the United States Senate and thence
to vice president.  But when after two terms in that post he'd run for
the presidency, he'd been soundly defeated.  Running again in four
years, he'd lost, though by a significantly slimmer margin.  And now,
in the year of our Lord 2034, he'd been sworn into the office of
president, having barely won the election the previous November.
     Corban had latched onto on issue, and made it his campaign focus.
He'd hammered hard on the crime rate, which had not shown a serious
downturn in the memory of many voters.  He bemoaned the number of armed
robberies, the number of murders, the number of drug-related killings,
the number of terrorist attacks on American soil, and took great pains
to point out that many of these crimes would never have occurred if the
criminal had not possessed a firearm.  While he had almost nothing to
say on health care, was apathetic on foreign policy, and had no
discernible economic program, his skill in manipulating the fear of the
citizens that they could be shot on the street won him the victory.
     Corban was the first president to affiliate with no major
political party.  He had once been a Democrat, but left that party when
it became evident that, after years of being used, the electorate was
growing tired of voting for two parties but getting only one policy no
matter who won the election.  Cynically, Corban did not change his
views or his politics; he merely ceased to identify with either major
party, and left the public to conclude, erroneously, that he had ceased
to accept the policies that the party hacks had long espoused.  His
cynicism, it seemed, had been rewarded, for he now held the office he
had sought for many years.
     This morning, as he stepped into the Oval Office for the first
time as its legal occupant, Corban noted his reflection on the still-
dark windows.  He saw a reflection that pleased him - a tall, slightly
satanic figure, with dark hair thinning at the temples and combed
straight back above a high forehead.  His nose slashed steeply between
his piercing eyes, and his eyebrows exuded cold control.  Corban had
carefully cultivated the image his looks naturally lent themselves to,
and in this one thing he was honest, for the image was a true
expression of his personality.  He was indeed a cold, hard man, who
gave no quarter and regarded those who did as weaklings and fools.  His
thin lips were an accurate reflection of the biting criticism he could
inflict, with apparent delight, on anyone who got in his way.  Most
politicians, no matter how cold and calculating, managed to erect a
facade of affability; Corban had eschewed this tactic, choosing instead
to win through fear - fear of crime by the electorate, and fear of him
in his subordinates.
     Sitting at the desk, Corban looked over his schedule.  Even before
the inauguration, he had scrapped the highly organized squirrel cage
that previous presidents had moved in.  He would schedule appointments
at times convenient for him.  He would work in his own way.
Functionaries and dignitaries and affairs of state were never to
intrude on the business of governing - that was what the vice president
was for, he had snapped at an aid who was more concerned about protocol
than placating his boss.  The schedule at this point, therefore, was
only sparsely filled.  A meeting with the chief of staff and the
Attorney General at 7:45, to discuss the gun problem, was the first
item on the agenda.  Looking at his watch, Corban saw that there was
still an hour and a half to go.  He set the schedule aside, and drew
toward him the papers he needed for his next project.
                               ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
     Corban's presidency was proceeding with mixed results.  Having
campaigned on a strong-anti crime platform, he was politically
embarrassed by the fact that in six months he had been unable to do a
thing about the problem.  He had tried, with every political maneuver
and trick in his book, to persuade Congress to act, but nothing had
been done.  As was usual, both the House and the Senate were so caught
up in partisan wrangling, pork-barrel bickering, and simple
bureaucratic gridlock that nothing of value could be expected in
anything like a reasonable time.
     Corban had had enough.  He picked up the phone, punching the
intercom button as he hunched his shoulder to hold the receiver to his
ear.  Picking up a piece of paper covered with his fine, precise
script, he spoke into the mouthpiece.  "Have the chief of staff and the
Attorney General here after lunch."  His voice was dry and cold, and
left no room for argument.
     Corban replaced the phone and turned his attention fully to the
paper he held in his thin hands.  Finishing his perusal, he nodded,
made a few corrections in red ink, and stuck the paper in the folder he
kept for items to be discussed informally.
     After lunch the two men he'd ordered to his office sat across from
Corban.  Roger Hedrick, the White House chief of staff, was a solid
stump of a man, bald and blunt and absolutely ruthless.  He had been
hired to oversee the president's schedule, and his muddy brown eyes did
so with an efficiency and lack of compassion that would have made a
robot proud.
     Gordon Hacker, the Attorney General, was tall, with a paunch that
lapped over his belt and thick gray hair combed into the most faultless
and unmoving style.  He too was a hard man, tailored after his
president, and his mission in life as Attorney General was to prosecute
criminals.  The fact that the Justice Department was falling even
further behind was no disparagement of his zeal, for as the crime rate
rose Hacker cut more and more corners in the effort to arrest, try,
convict, and pass sentence on those who broke the law.
     Corban leaned back in his chair, after the small talk -
exceedingly small between these men - had been taken care of.
Flattening his palms on the leather arms of his chair, he asked,
"Gentlemen, is there anything we can do at this time, through the
legislative process, to significantly affect the crime rate?"
     Hacker and Hedrick looked at each other, each giving a miniscule
shake of the head.  Hedrick, as chief of staff, answered for both men -
"No, sir, not a thing."
     "Very well," said the president.  "We all know that the judicial
system is clogged, both with new cases, interminable appeals, and a
bleeding-heart crop of judges.  The executive branch, however, is not
powerless, nor is it witless, nor is it craven.  I would like to read
something to you."
     Corban reached into the folder on the corner of his desk and
extracted the sheet of paper he'd placed there earlier.  "This is the
text of a proposed executive order.  'The level of crimes committed
with firearms is already insupportably high, and is continuing to rise
at an unacceptable rate.  Law enforcement agencies at all levels of
government in the United States are unable to effectively combat this
problem due to many factors, not the least of which is the alarming
proliferation of guns among the populace.
     "'After consultation with officials at the Justice Department, I
have, therefore, taken the step of issuing this executive order in the
hope that once its provisions are in place the rate of crimes committed
with firearms will drop.  All Federal agencies with law enforcement
responsibilities are directed to make every effort to assist local and
state agencies in carrying out the provisions of this order.
     "'On my authority as president of the United States of America, I,
C.T. Corban, order the immediate confiscation of all privately owned
firearms within the borders of the United States and its territories.
Once this is done, those with legitimate cause for ownership and
possession of firearms - such as private investigators, police
officers, and intelligence and military personnel - will have their
guns returned to them, with appropriate registration of said weapons.
The Department of Justice will promulgate the necessary regulations for
enforcing this order.'"
     Hedrick and Hacker glanced at each other.  Again, there was a
slight shake of the head.  Hedrick once more spoke for the two visitors
to the Oval Office.  "Have you thought about the political
ramifications of this order?"
     "At this point," returned the president with a cold sneer, "I
don't think anyone would dare bring those ramifications into play.  If
anyone wishes to play hardball with this, they will find that being
portrayed as an enemy of law and order, an enemy of the people's right
to a safe neighborhood, is detrimental to further political success."
     "I'm sure there will be a few who will want to run this through
the courts," responded Hacker.  "And while we've got good attorneys, I
don't know if we could successfully hold off a challenge to this
order."
     "You have no personal opposition to the order?" asked Corban
softly.
     "None at all."  Hedrick shook his head in the slight pause Hacker
left as he considered his next words.  "I think it is the only step
left to us.  We have tried everything we can within the current
framework; we must try this.  I only want to be sure that you are
prepared for a court challenge."
     Corban was silent, and Hedrick spoke into the quiet.  "I agree.  I
am also concerned about possible repercussions on the Hill.  This is
something that could galvanize Congress and persuade both parties to
work together.  And that would undermine your presidency, perhaps
fatally.  Remember, you're a member of neither major party, and if they
combine against you there is no political machinery for you to fall
back on."
     "Your objections are well-thought out," said Corban.  "However, I
do not think that things will be as bad as you fear.  As I said a
moment ago, anyone who opposes this order would be easily characterized
as opposing safety in the streets and parks of the United States, and
if that perception is once attached to a politician, his career will be
over.  This order will be issued one week from today.  Gordon, have
basic plans drawn up by then for enforcement.  Roger, have a speech
written to be delivered that evening, and several press releases
slanted in various ways for the several sectors of the press."
     With a double "Yes, sir," the two men rose from their chairs and
left the room.  Laying the paper in his out basket for the secretary to
type, the president turned to another item of business.
                               ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
     Surprisingly, a year after Corban's executive order was issued no
one had raised a political ruckus.  The Hill was uncharacteristically
silent, and the president's sources informed him that the Senators and
Representatives were afraid, as he had predicted, of being seen as pro-
crime.  The sources Corban's subordinates had cultivated in Congress
delivered the same reports, and so the president felt safe on that
flank.
     The second area of concern was the judicial system, and so far
there was not a squeak from that quarter.  Corban had watched the
courts like a hawk after the order became public, expecting someone to
either use a criminal case, or file a civil case, in opposition to the
banning of all but a few guns.  But apparently no one wished to do so.
Here it was more difficult to be sure of the reasons, but after a year
of polling and studying and spying, the president and his top advisors
were convinced that the lack of reaction resulted from equal parts
apathy, fear of being seen as anti-law and order, and fear of crime
itself.
     Then there was the electorate.  Corban continued to watch this
front, as the voters were the only people at this point which could
post a serious threat of removing him from office.  The American
electorate was notoriously fickle - "the people" could turn from
overwhelming support to total opposition in a very short time, and with
the preliminary planning for the next election already under way, it
was essential to keep a finger on the pulse of the voters.  But they
too seemed either sick of armed crime or apathetic, and gradually
Corban was beginning to relax.
     On this summer day, he turned his chair and looked out the windows
across the lawn.  The grass was a startling emerald green outside, a
green that reminded him of summers back in Washington.  He smiled
slightly - a smile very different from his normal cold gesture - as he
remembered the days of playing in the meadows and fields, catching
grasshoppers and garter snakes, and enjoying the time without a care.
He'd only moved to California as an adult, and while his legal home was
there, he'd grown up in Washington and that was where his memories took
him.  Now, of course, if he wanted to go out and walk on the grass he
would be followed by a contingent of Secret Service men, and chased by
a pack of reporters howling after even the most banal remark.  The
smile vanished, and the cold, set expression resumed its place.
Jerking his chair around, Corban picked up his pen and resumed where
he'd left off, going over the text of a bill scheduled for a floor vote
later in the day.
     The buzz of the intercom was an unwelcome distraction.  Corban's
head jerked with irritation, then he controlled himself and pressed the
speaker button on the phone.  "Yes?"
     "Sir, Attorney General Hacker wishes to see you.  He says it's
urgent, and also Mr. Hedrick will be here in a few minutes."
     "Very well, send him in.  And when Hedrick gets here send him in
as well."
     Pressing the button again, Corban turned back to the document on
the desk.  As Hacker came in the president favored him with a bare nod,
and returned to his work.  A few minutes later the chief of staff
arrived, and only then did Corban lay the bill down and look at his
visitors.
     Hacker nodded perfunctorily, while Hedrick did not even bother
with that.  Hacker took the initiative.  "Mr. President, we've got a
problem - a big one.  I just got the news today from a source in
California.  It seems someone is preparing a challenge to your
executive order on constitutional grounds."
     "Constitutional grounds?" asked Corban.  "We didn't anticipate
that, did we?"
     "No, sir, we didn't.  We thought through the political
ramifications, but we never discussed the legal aspect.  We assumed, as
seemed only reasonable to assume, that if the political angles were
covered no legal challenge would arise."
     Hedrick spoke now, for the first time.  "Sir, we can handle the
folks on the Hill and in the public and the courts right now.  Between
judicious politicking and good press manipulation, we've got the
situation under control.  But if this challenge is allowed to proceed,
the whole situation will unravel.  And even if we defeat it, the
political climate will turn against us and I'm not at all sure we'll be
able to recover before the election."
     Corban sat silently for a moment, his eyes cast down on the desk.
Finally he roused himself and spoke.  "What are the grounds of this
challenge?"
     Hacker spoke three words.  "The second amendment."
     Corban relaxed.  "In that case," he declared, "we have nothing to
worry about.  I can whip that kind of challenge in my sleep.  You go
back to work - I'll get back to you with the steps necessary to deal
with this when it comes up."
     Obediently the two subordinates got up and walked out.  Corban, a
chill smile on his face, returned to his work.
                               ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
     Another two years had passed.  The court system, clogged with the
criminal cases and civil suits of an entire nation, had ground slowly,
and only today had the challenge to the executive order reached the
Supreme Court.  This delay in itself was a problem, as Corban's promise
of dealing with crime, which was the reason for his executive order,
was being graphically cut to ribbons by the immense number of illegal
weapons being used.  The election was looking iffy at best, and he was,
for the first time, worried.  Householders were being robbed, raped,
and murdered in record numbers; many of them protested that until
they'd been forced to give up their weapons they'd been safe, and would
have shot anyone who tried what was now being done with near-impunity.
     Corban, in a bold move, had declared that he would put his law
degree to use and argue the case himself.  The Attorney General had
protested mightily.  The Solicitor General, whose office was
responsible for presenting the government's side before the Court, was
equally furious.  Corban insisted.  He fired a few people.  He demoted
some people.  And he had his way.  The president himself would argue
before the Supreme Court.
     The unheard-of move was not as asinine as it might have appeared.
Exercising his strong personality and his growing knowledge of where
the bodies were buried, he'd filled the two vacancies on the Court that
had come before him with rigid, doctrinaire judges who, unlike some
Justices, would not waffle all over the map in their decisions.  They'd
proved that they would argue and write their opinions based on their
ideology.  They were also highly persuasive men, and had more than once
influence decisions that would otherwise have gone the other way.
Corban was not worried about the case; it was the election that
concerned him.  And he was confident that by winning the case, he could
save the election.
     In the rear of his limousine, traveling in armored luxury with a
veritable army of security people all around, Corban reviewed his
arguments.  He expected to demolish the opposing counsel, an ordinary
trial lawyer from California.  He'd reviewed the man's record; there
was nothing there to fear.
     Corban's lips moved in his small cold smile.  He would win the
case.  He would win the election.  And he would continue his life in
power, for his next step was to overturn the constitutional amendment
limiting a president to two terms.  He intended, in the end, to be
president for life, as Franklin Roosevelt had been.  Eventually,
perhaps, he could dispense with elections altogether, and simply rule
on the basis of an election for life.
     The car pulled into the Supreme Court's parking area.  Surrounded
by Secret Service men, who became less obtrusive as he proceeded to the
Court's chamber, Corban strode confidently through the halls.  The
Supreme Court had made many momentous decisions, but never had it heard
a president argue a case.  History was being made today.
                               ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
     Closing statements, now.  Corban had presented his side, and the
opposing counsel had presented his.  It was time to sum up the case on
both sides, and then wait for the Court's decision.  Corban waited
comfortably while the California lawyer, who had handled the case with
one aide, rose.  Looking around at the hefty legal staff he'd
assembled, the president was completely satisfied.
     The opposition counsel, whose name was Matthews, spoke, beginning
quietly.  "This case has been presented as a matter of solving a crime
problem.  That aspect has been argued back and forth all the way up the
court system, with statistics being presented on both sides.  I contend
that the statistics show that the executive order whose
constitutionality is questioned has not produced the results intended,
but that is not what I wish to address now.
     "We are dealing with constitutionality.  In the end, it all comes
down to the Constitution.  Whatever results the order may have
produced, whatever justifications can be made for it, whatever
motivation President Corban had in issuing it - all this is in a very
important sense irrelevant.
     "Let's look at the Constitution.  That has not been done during
the progress of this case through the system, and it's high time we did
so.  I quote from the second amendment thereto: 'A well regulated
Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of
the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.'  That is
rather simple, is it not?"
     Matthews cleared his throat and went on, his voice somewhat
stronger.  "This statement consists of only one sentence.  Brevity and
conciseness were virtues well displayed by the framers of the
Constitution.  But it was not mere literary skill that produced this
marvel of succinct language - it was the simplicity of the principle
thus enunciated.
     "'The right of the people.'  That was being safeguarded.  When we
read the Constitution, we find that the entire document has one
overriding purpose - to protect the people from the government.  Having
lived under a repressive government which failed to protect the rights
of the individual citizen, the framers were determined to ensure that
those rights were never again violated by the government.  'The right
of the people.' That right, above all else, must be protected - from
the government.  It must be protected - whatever right it might be.
     "But what right does the second amendment protect?  The language
of the amendment is explicit.  It is the right to 'keep and bear Arms.'
There are no conditions attached.  There are no caveats, no
restrictions.  The people have this right - to keep and bear arms - and
it shall not be infringed.
     "What does this executive order do?  It explicitly denies the
people this right.  It overtly and blatantly declares that the people
may not keep and bear arms.  It says, and I quote, 'On my authority as
president of the United States of America, I, C.T. Corban, order the
immediate confiscation of all privately owned firearms within the
borders of the United States and its territories.  Once this is done,
those with legitimate cause for ownership and possession of firearms -
such as private investigators, police officers, and intelligence and
military personnel - will have their guns returned to them, with
appropriate registration of said weapons.'
     "Firearms are, according to this order, to be confiscated.  Only
those who can show 'just cause,' as it were, may later retrieve their
guns.  This directly conflicts with the second amendment.  The right of
the people - not just those in certain occupations, but the people - to
keep and bear arms has been flagrantly and deliberately infringed."
     Matthews raised his head and looked directly into the eyes of each
of the nine Justices in turn, as they sat behind their high bench.  He
stood like an ancient knight, defending the castle from barbarian
hordes.  "Your Honors, I submit that if this order is allowed to stand
it will desecrate the Constitution, destroy the second amendment,
eviscerate our claims to freedom, and place the United States squarely
within the ranks of those totalitarian dictatorships that we have
publicly decried and even fought against.  This order is plainly
unconstitutional, and must be overturned."
     Corban sat in shock.  He had studied the transcripts of testimony
and arguments as the case worked its way through the courts, and
nothing like this had ever been said.  The argument had always dealt
with effectiveness, with previous Supreme Court rulings, with esoteric
precedents in case law.  Only now had Matthews played his ace - an
appeal directly to the text of the Constitution.
     Corban now saw it, as if he'd planned it himself.  The earlier
trials and arguments were not intended to be won.  The whole thing was
intended, from the very beginning, to be argued before the Supreme
Court.  Matthews must have grinned in ecstasy when he learned that
Corban himself would argue the case - Corban, who had waltzed in with
such arrogant, overbearing confidence.  The case was intended to make
much more than a legal point - it was directed specifically at the
president.  The election was now lost, the case was lost, Corban's
dreams were dust.
                               ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
     When the nine Justices released their unanimous opinion it was an
anticlimax.  Corban was already making future plans.  Given the
argument Matthews had made at that last dramatic moment, there could
not be any other ruling.  Had the Court upheld Corban's executive
order, the people would have forced what had never before occurred -
resignations from the Supreme Court.  Corban would have been forced
from office in shame, following Richard Nixon.  As it was his
administration was in ruins, the campaign abandoned.  And the people,
all over the United States, were recovering their guns from police
storage.