Secretly, to her, the idea of having the house to herself occasionally was refreshing.
Issue number two: The campaign. How could he play politics for the rest of the year while continuing to practice law? His firm would be supportive, he thought, but it would not be easy. But then, nothing worthwhile is without sacrifice.
Issue number three: Money, though this was not a significant concern. The increase in pay was obvious. His net from the law firm's profits rose slightly each year, but no big bonuses were likely. Judicial salaries in Mississippi were increased periodically by the legislature. Plus, the state had a better retirement plan and health coverage.
Issue number four: His career. After fourteen years of doing the same thing, with no break in sight, he found the idea of a sudden career change exhilarating. The mere thought of leaving the ranks of thousands to become only one of nine was thrilling. Jumping from the county courthouse to the pinnacle of the state's legal system in one boisterous somersault was so exciting that it made him laugh. Doreen was not laughing, though she was very amused and engaged.
Issue number five: Failure. What if he lost? In a landslide? Would they be humiliated?
This was a humbling thought, but he kept repeating what Tony Zachary had said. "Three million bucks will win the race, and we'll get the money.?
Which brought up the rather large issue of who exactly was Tony Zachary, and could they believe him? Ron had spent an hour online tracking down Judicial Vision and Mr. Zachary. Everything looked legitimate. He called a friend from law school, a career man with the attorney general's office in Jackson, and, without revealing his motives, nibbled around the edges of Judicial Vision. The friend had heard of them, he thought, but didn't know much about them. And besides, he dealt with offshore oil rights and stayed away from politics.
Ron had called the Judicial Vision office in Jackson and was routed through a maze back to Mr. Zachary's secretary, who informed him that her boss was traveling in south Mississippi. After she hung up, she called Tony and reported the contact.
The Fisks met Tony for lunch the following day at the Dixie Springs Cafe, a small restaurant near a lake ten miles south of Brookhaven, far away from potential eavesdroppers in the town's restaurants.
For the occasion, Zachary adopted a slightly different posture. Today he was the man with other options. Here's the deal-take it or leave it because my list is long and I have other young white Protestant male lawyers to talk to. He was gentle and perfectly charming, especially to Doreen, who began the lunch with suspicion but was soon won over.
At some point during the sleepless night, both Mr. and Mrs. Fisk had independently arrived at the same conclusion. Life would be much fuller, much richer in their little town if Lawyer Fisk became Justice Fisk. Their status would be elevated magnificently. No one could touch them, and while they didn't seek power or notoriety, the allure was irresistible.
"What's your principal concern?" Tony asked after fifteen minutes of worthless chatter.
"Well, it's January," Ron began. "And for the next eleven months I will do little else but plan and execute the campaign. Naturally, I'm worried about my law practice.?
"Here's one solution," Tony said without hesitation. He had solutions for everything.
揓udicial Vision is a well-coordinated and concerted effort. We have lots of friends and supporters. We can arrange for some legal work to be shifted to your firm. Timber, energy, natural gas, big clients with interests in this part of the state. Your firm might want to add a lawyer or two to handle things while you're busy elsewhere, but that should ease the strain. If you choose to run, you will not suffer financially.
Quite the opposite.?
The Fisks couldn't help but look at each other. Tony buttered a saltine and took a large bite.
"Legitimate clients?" Doreen asked, then wished she'd kept her mouth shut.
Tony frowned as he chewed, then when he could speak he said, rather sternly, "Everything we do, Doreen, is legitimate. We are completely ethical to begin with-our ultimate mission is to clean up the court, not trash it. And everything we do will be scrutinized. This race will become heated and attract a lot of attention.
We do not stumble.?
Chastised, she lifted her knife and went for a roll.
Tony continued: "No one can question legitimate legal work and fair fees paid by clients, whether big or small.?
"Of course," Ron said. He was already thinking about the wonderful conversation with his partners as they anticipated this infusion of new business.
"I can't see myself as a political wife," Doreen said. "You know, out on the campaign trail giving speeches. I've never even thought about it.?
Tony smiled and exuded charm. He even offered a quick laugh.
"You can do as much or as little as you like. With three young children, I would guess that you'll be pretty busy on the home front.?
Over catfish and hush puppies, they agreed to meet again in a few days when Tony was passing through. They would have another lunch, and a final decision would be made. November was far away, but there was so much work to do.
Chapter 12
She once laughed at herself when she went through the dreaded ritual of crawling onto her stationary bike at dawn and pedaling away, going nowhere as the sun crept up and lightened her little gym. For a woman whose public veneer was a somber face behind an intimidating black robe, she was amused at what people would think if they could see her on the bike, in old sweats, hair a mess, eyes swollen, face unadorned with cosmetics. But that was a long time ago. Now she just went through the routine with little thought of how she looked or what anyone might think. Of particular concern now was the fact that she had gained five pounds over the holidays, eleven since her divorce. The gaining had to be stopped before the losing could commence. At fifty-one, the pounds were clinging now, refusing to burn away as quickly as when she was younger.
Sheila McCarthy was not a morning person. She hated mornings, hated getting out of bed before her sleep was finished, hated the cheery voices on television, hated the traffic on the way to the office. She didn't eat breakfast, because she hated breakfast food. She hated coffee. She had always secretly loathed those who reveled in their early morning exploits-the joggers, yoga nuts, workaholics, hyperactive soccer moms.
As a young circuit court judge in Biloxi, she had often scheduled trials for 10:00 a.m., a scandalous hour. But it was her court and she made the rules.
Now she was one of nine, and the tribunal on which she served clung desperately to its traditions. On certain days she could roll in at noon and work until midnight, her preferred schedule, but most of the time she was expected by 9:00 a.m.
She was sweating after one mile. Eighty-four calories burned. Less than a cup of Haagen-Dazs chocolate chip mint, her most serious temptation. A television hung from a rack above the bike, and she watched and listened as the locals gushed over the latest car wrecks and murders. Then the weatherman was back for the third time in twelve minutes, clucking on about snow in the Rockies because there wasn't a single cloud at home to analyze.
After two miles, and down 161 calories, Sheila stopped for water and a towel, then crawled onto the treadmill for more work. She switched to CNN for a quick review of the national gossip. When she had burned 250 calories, Sheila quit and went to the shower. An hour later, she left her two-story condo on the reservoir, got into her bright red BMW convertible sports car, and headed to work.
The Mississippi Supreme Court is divided into three neat districts- northern, central, and southern-with three justices elected from each. A term is eight years, with no limit. Judicial elections take place in the off years, those quiet ones in which there are no races for local, legislative, or other statewide positions. Once obtained, a seat on the court lasts for a long time, usually until death or voluntary retirement.
The elections are nonpartisan, with all candidates running as independents. Campaign finance laws limit contributions from individuals at $5,000 each, and $2,500 from organizations, including political action committees and corporations.
Sheila McCarthy was appointed to the bench nine years earlier by a friendly governor, following the death of her predecessor. She ran unopposed once and was certainly planning on another easy victory. There was not the faintest whiff of a rumor that someone out there had designs on her seat.
With nine years' experience, she outranked only three others, and was still considered by most members of the state bar to be a relative newcomer. Tracking her written opinions and her voting record baffled liberals and conservatives alike. She was a moderate, a consensus builder, neither a strict constructionist nor a judicial activist, but more or less a practical fence straddler who, some said, decided the best outcome first, then found enough law to support it. As such, she was an influential member of the court. She could broker a deal between the hard right-wingers, of which there were always automatically four in number, and the liberals, of which there were two on most days and none on others. Four on the right and two on the left meant Sheila had two comrades in the center, though this simplistic analysis had burned many a lawyer trying to predict an outcome. Most cases on the docket defied categorization.
Where's the liberal or conservative side in a big messy divorce, or a boundary line dispute between two timber companies? Many cases were decided 9-0.
The supreme court does its work in the Carroll Gartin Justice Building in downtown Jackson, across the street from the state capitol. Sheila parked in her reserved space underneath the building. She rode the elevator to the fourth floor alone and stepped into her suite at exactly 8:45. Paul, her chief clerk, a strikingly handsome twenty-eight-year-old single straight male of whom she was extremely fond, walked into her office seconds after she did.
"Good morning," Paul said. He had long dark curly hair and a small diamond in his ear, and he somehow managed to maintain a perfect growth of three days' worth of stubble. Hazel eyes. She often expected to see Paul modeling Armani suits in the fashion magazines stacked around her condo. Paul had more to do with her gym time than she cared to admit.
"Good morning," she said coolly, as if she had barely noticed him.
"You have the Sturdivant hearing at nine.?
"I know that," she said, glancing at his rear end as he walked across her office.
Faded jeans. The ass of a model.
He walked out, her eyes following every step.
Her secretary took his place. She locked the door and pulled out a small makeup kit, and when Justice McCarthy was ready, the touch-up was done quickly. The hair-short, almost above the ear, half sandy blond and half gray, and now carefully colored twice a month at $400 a pop-was fussed into place, then sprayed.
"What are my chances with Paul?" Sheila asked with her eyes closed.
"A bit young, don't you think
The secretary was older than her boss and had been doing the touch-ups for almost nine years. She kept powdering.
"Of course he's young. That's the point.?
"I don't know. I hear he's awfully busy with that redhead in Albritton's office.?
Sheila had heard the rumors, too. A gorgeous new clerk from Stanford was getting plenty of attention down the hall, and Paul usually had his pick.
"Have you read the Sturdivant briefs?" Sheila asked, standing as she prepared to be robed.
"Yes." The secretary carefully draped the black robe over her shoulders. The zipper ran down the front. Both ladies tugged and fussed until the bulky garment was perfect.
"Who killed the cop?" Sheila asked, gently pulling the zipper.
"It wasn't Sturdivant.?
"I agree." She stepped before a full-length mirror, and both ladies inspected the presentation. "Can you tell I've gained weight?" Sheila asked.
"No." Same answer to the same question.
"Well, I have. And that's why I love these things. They can hide twenty pounds.?
"You love it for another reason, dear, and we both know it. You're the only girl out there with eight boys, and none of them are as tough or as smart as you.?
"And sexy. Don't forget sexy.?
The secretary laughed at the idea. "No competition, dear. Those old goats can only dream about sex.?
And they went off, out of the office, down the hall, where they met Paul again. He rattled off some key points in the Sturdivant case as they rode the elevator to the third floor, where the courtroom was located.
One lawyer might argue this, and the other might possibly argue that. Here are some questions to trip both of them.
Three blocks away from where Justice McCarthy assumed her position on the bench, a group of rather intense men and (two) women gathered to discuss her demise. They met in a windowless conference room in a nondescript building, one of many clustered near the state capital where countless civil servants and lobbyists ground out the work of running Mississippi.
The meeting was hosted by Tony Zachary and Judicial Vision. The guests were the directors of other like-minded "government relations" firms, some with vague names that deflected categorization-Freedom Network, Market Partnership, Commerce Council, Enterprise Advocacy. Other names got right to the point-Citizens Opposed to Lawsuit Tyranny (COLT), Fair Litigation Association, Jury Watch, Tort Reform Committee of Mississippi.
And the old guard was there, the associations representing the interests of banks, insurance, oil, medicine, manufacturing, retail, commerce, trade, and the best of our American way of life.
In the murky world of legislative manipulation, where loyalties shift overnight and a friend can become an enemy by noon, the people in the room were known, at least to Tony Zachary, to be worthy of trust.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Tony began, standing with a half-eaten croissant on the plate before him, "the purpose of this meeting is to inform you that we will remove Sheila McCarthy from the supreme court in November and her replacement will be a young justice committed to economic growth and limited liability.?
There was light applause around the table. Everyone else was seated, all curious and listening. No one was certain who was behind Judicial Vision. Zachary had been around a few years and had a fair reputation, but he had no personal money. Nor did his group have much of a membership. Nor had he ever shown much interest in the civil justice system. His newfound passion for changing liability laws seemed to spring from nowhere.
