The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [29]
“Whatever,” Ben said. “If anyone’s watching that phone line, they already know I’m involved.”
“You don’t know that,” Lisa said. Looking at her watch, she added, “It’s almost ten. We should probably head over.”
“I don’t feel like it,” Ben said, suddenly irritated.
“Are you crazy?” she asked. “They’re handing down the CMI decision. Don’t you want to see the crowd’s reaction?”
Ben was silent.
“Well, you’re coming anyway,” she said, grabbing his hand. “We’re not supposed to miss decisions.”
Although the justices returned to work in early September, and the fall term officially began on the first Monday in October, it wasn’t until early November—when the first decisions were announced—that the energy of the Court reached critical mass. While oral arguments were heard throughout the week, decisions were handed down at precisely ten A.M. on every subsequent Monday. Open to the public, the decision sessions were always packed with tourists, press, and friends of the Court. On a typical decision day, the line began to form outside the Court at eight in the morning. For a more popular case, the lines started at six. When the Webster abortion case was handed down in 1989, local entrepreneurs found that both tourists and press would pay big money to have others wait in line for them. The result was an underground line-sitting business that covered all major media events on Capitol Hill. In anticipation of the CMI decision, the professional sitters had started lining up almost a day in advance.
At approximately nine in the morning, the restless crowds were finally led into the building. While the groups were herded through the Great Hall and two separate metal detectors, Ben and Lisa walked straight into the main courtroom. “I love this,” Lisa said as she watched the lines of tourists who were slowly being seated.
Ben was hardly enthusiastic to see Charles Maxwell’s impending victory, but he had to acknowledge the excitement of a decision day. Reporters swarmed into the tiny press area on the left side of the courtroom. It was the only place in the room where observers were allowed to take notes, although there were no recording devices allowed. Armed guards escorted tourists and other observers into the twelve rows of benches in the center of the room, where they all eagerly awaited the arrival of the justices. Everyone spoke in hushed whispers, which added a buzz of energy to the room. On the right was a seating area reserved for family and friends of the justices, as well as a small private area for the Supreme Court clerks.
“They’re all sheep,” Ben said, looking at the packed courtroom. “They just come to see the spectacle and then they leave. They don’t care about the consequences. To them it’s just a tourist attraction.”
“Lighten up,” Lisa said. Still thrilled by the pomp and circumstance, she watched the clock tick toward ten.
Ben fixed his eyes on the marble frieze over the main entrance, which the justices faced. It displayed the Powers of Evil—Corruption and Deceit—offset by the Powers of Good—Security, Charity, and Peace, with Justice flanked by Wisdom and Truth.
Following Ben’s gaze, Lisa asked, “So, does art imitate life?”
“Funny,” Ben shot back.
At exactly three minutes before ten, a buzzer summoned the justices to the conference room, where they prepared to enter the courtroom. Behind the burgundy velvet curtain, the justices ceremonially shook hands with each other. It was a custom instituted by Chief Justice Fuller early in the Court’s history, to show that “harmony of aims if not views is the Court’s guiding principle.” At precisely ten o’clock, the marshal banged his gavel, and every person in the room rose to his feet.
“The Honorable, the Chief Justice and the Associate Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States!” the marshal announced. Within seconds, the nine justices strode through openings in the curtain and moved to their respective chairs.
No matter how many times she saw it happen, Lisa was always awed by the simultaneous arrival of all nine justices. “I love this,” she whispered