«Worship, Chief Thunder Head, is no part of this Court,» said the large black justice, scowling. «One can worship his god, or a bull or an icon or the newest guru, but it has no influence in a court of law, nor should it have. We here worship only the law. We adjudicate on the basis of provable fact, not on convincing speculation derived from unsubstantiated records of over a hundred years ago.»
«Hey, now just wait a minute!» cried Sam. «I read that brief—»
«We thought you wrote it, Counselor,» interrupted the lady justice. «Didn’t you?»
«Yes—well, that’s another story, but let me tell you, I’m one hell of a lawyer and I’ve scrutinized that brief, and the historical evidentiary materials that support it are damn near irrefutable! Furthermore, if this Court disregards that evidence for pragmatic concerns, you’re a bunch of—of …»
«Of what, Counselor?» asked a justice on the left side of the bench.
«Goddamnit, I’ll say it—cowards!»
«I love you, Sam,» whispered Jennifer.
The voluble astonishment of the entire Court was broken by the stentorian tones of Chief Thunder Head, a.k.a. MacKenzie Lochinvar Hawkins. «Please, great deliberators of justice in this stolen land of ours, may I speak?»
«What, you feathered termite?» shrieked Chief Justice Reebock.
«You have just witnessed the outrage of an honest man, an outstanding attorney who’s willing to throw away a brilliant career because he found the truth within the hidden transcripts that were never meant to see the light of day. Such uncompromising men have made this country great, for they faced the truth and understood its majesty. The truth, both good and bad, had to be accepted in all its glory and all the sacrifices it demanded, a shining light that led a new nation into its own majesty, its own glory. All he seeks, all we seek, all the Indian nations seek, is to be a part of that great land we once called ours. Is that so difficult for you?»
«There are grave national considerations, sir,» said the black justice, his scowl receding. «Extraordinary costs, severe taxes upon the body politic that may not be tolerated. As many have said before us, it is all too frequently an unfair world.»
«Then negotiate, sir!» cried Thunder Head. «The eagle does not stoop to destroy the wounded sparrow. Instead, as our young counsel phrased it, that mighty eagle soars through the skies, a marvel of flight but far more important, a constant symbol of the power of freedom.»
«I said that—»
«Shut up!… Oh, ye judges, let that wounded sparrow find a measure of hope in the shadow of the great eagle. Do not cast us out again for there is no place left for us to wander. Give us the respect that is long overdue—give us the hope we need to survive. Without it we die, our Slaughter complete. Do you wish this on your hands—are they not bloody enough?»
Silence. Everywhere. Except:
«Hey, Mac, not bad,» whispered Sam, from the left side of his mouth. And:
«Magnificent!» whispered Jennifer from behind.
«Hold it, little filly,» replied the Hawk, in hushed tones, turning his head. «Now comes the crunch, like when my buddy, General McAuliffe, said ‘Nuts’ to the Krauts in the Battle of the Bulge.»
«What do you mean?» asked Aaron Pinkus.
«Listen up,» whispered Cyrus. «I know where the general’s coming from. Now he’s got to sting ’em where it really hurts. Right in their own bladders. That’ll put the bullshit in concrete.»
«It wasn’t bullshit,» protested Redwing. «It’s the truth!»
«For them it’s inescapable truthful bullshit, Jenny, because they’re between a rock and a very hard ’nother rock.»
The microphones were turned off once again while the justices conferred. At last, the seemingly emaciated judge from New England spoke. «That was a moving peroration, Chief Thunder Head,» he said quietly, «but such accusations could be made on behalf of numerous minorities everywhere. History isn’t kind to these people, much to my personal regret. As one of our Presidents said, ‘Life isn’t fair,’ but it must go on for the betterment of the majority, not the unfortunate minorities who suffer. We all wish with all our hearts that we could change that scenario, but it’s beyond our providence. The ‘brutality of history’ was the way Schopenhauer described it. I loathe his conclusion but I recognize its reality. You could open floodgates that might drown whole communities across the country far, far in excess of the litigants.»
«Your point, sir?»
«Considering everything that’s involved, what would be your response if the Court in its wisdom decided against you?»
«Quite simple,» replied Chief Thunder Head. «We would declare war against the United States of America, knowing we’d have the sympathy of our Indian brothers across the land. Many thousands of white men would not survive. We would lose, but so would you.»
«Holy shit,» intoned the nasal-twanged Chief Justice Reebock. «I have a house in New Mexico—»
«The land of the warlike Apaches, sir?» asked the Hawk innocently.
«Two and a half miles from the reservation,» answered the justice, swallowing.
«The Apache is our brother in blood. May the Great Spirit grant you a swift and relatively painless death.»
«What about Palm Beach?» asked another member of the Court, his brows arched.
«The Seminoles are our cousins. They boil the blood of the white man to remove its impurities—while the blood is still in the body, of course; it tenderizes the meat.»
«Aspen …?» said yet another, haltingly. «Who’s there?»
«The impetuous Cherokee, sir. They’re even closer cousins, due to the geography. However, we’ve frequently voiced disapproval over their primary method of retribution. They strap their enemies face down over killer anthills.»
«Augh!» gasped Jennifer.
«Lake … Lake George?» asked a pale-faced justice on the left, his expression conveying sudden fear. «I have a lovely summer home there.»
«Upper New York State, sir? Need you ask?» MacKenzie lowered his voice, as if to confirm the unspoken terror. «The hunting and burial grounds of the Mohawk?»
«Something like that … I imagine.»
«Our tribe is an offspring of the Mohawks, sir, but in all honesty, we felt we had to flee and travel west, away from our closest blood brothers.»
«Why was that?»
«The Mohawk brave is perhaps the most ferocious and daring of us all—but, well, I’m sure you understand.»
«Understand … what?»
«When provoked they torch their enemy’s tepees at night, as well as setting fire to all their enemy’s property. It is a scorched earth policy that we found too severe for our branch. Of course, the Mohawks still consider us one with them. The ties of blood are not easily washed away. Without question, they would join our struggle.»
«I think we should confer again!» snapped the Chief Justice, as the microphones went silent and the Court, their heads whipping back and forth, whispered among themselves.
«Mac!» hissed Redwing. «None of what you said is true! The Apaches are from the Athabaskan people and are no part of us, and the Cherokees wouldn’t strap anybody over an anthill, that’s preposterous, and the Seminoles are the most peaceful tribe of all the nations!… The Mohawks, well, they like to shoot craps because it brings in money, but they never attacked anyone who didn’t attack or steal from them first, and they certainly would never scorch the land because then you can’t grow anything on it!»