THE SHARK CHRONICLES: 42ND POSTCARD

“I smell it too,” Riley assured Derrick. “Fried pickles!” the dog added, tail wagging exuberantly.

            “Is that what it is?” Derrick sniffed the postcard again before studying the image. The postcard featured an old political cartoon-style drawing of three monkeys in the classic “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” poses.

THE WHOLE ANGEL THING

I

            Ben Synder was bored. Hardly a new or even unexpected sensation for Ben, junior partner at Hardin and Jacobsen, the largest law firm in Tellington. Not that meant much in a town of 7,000 residents.  Ben leaned his head back to contemplate the soundproofing tiles on the ceiling as Ray’s voice droned on. Another staff meeting, another pointless staff meeting. Also another staff meeting not presided by the senior partner, Lew Hardin. As usual.

            Then the IDEA suddenly just exploded within Ben’s thoughts. An incredible, slightly frightening IDEA. An IDEA that could change everything.

            “Hold up!” Ben exclaimed, whipping his head forward so fast his neck actually felt a twinge. All eyes fell upon him as he leaned forward, his hands on the table.

            “We should bring a suit against . . .” he paused, locking gazes with each of the four other people seated at the table. Ray finally raised his pale eyebrows, prompting Ben to continue.

            “God,” Ben concluded, triumphantly. The room fell silent. Then Mike, the office’s resident cynic, let out a short bark of annoyed laughter. Rose glanced at Mike and shushed him, but Brent’s eyes remained upon Ben, with mouth slightly open in awe. Being the newest intern, Brent was easily impressed.

            “Could you- could you repeat that?” Ray asked, vaguely indicating that his age might have caused him to misunderstand Ben.

            Ben nodded apologetically, exhaling loudly. “Sorry, that was really oversimplified,” he began.

            “You think?” Mike snarked, emitting another annoyed bark. Ben continued unfazed- he was well used to Mike’s prickly exterior. And interior.

            “We meet every month to talk about what we can to improve business for this firm, but we’re kind of stuck in a loop, right? We can only represent so many clients, and we can only review so many probate wills- this town is just not that big.”

            “Yes, that is why I keep talking about taking on cases nationwide,” Brent interjected, smoothing his tie out, a nervous tic he indulged in quite often.

            “No, I mean, yes, Brent, we all know you do. But we need an icebreaker.”

            Rose scrunched her face up in puzzlement. “Icebreaker? A party?”

            Ben flashed her a quick smile, which Rose returned. “Maybe I’m not using the best metaphor here,” Ben apologized. “I meant some kind of case that would draw a lot of notice. Something big. Then maybe we can start seeing possible cases coming in that we can take on via internet.”

            “And that would be God. You’re not worried we might not be going big enough there, Ben?” Mike scoffed, throwing his hands out in a “what the hell were you thinking?” gesture.

            “Mike, maybe let me expand a bit here?” Ben stared at Mike inquiringly. Mike stared back for a few moments in stubborn challenge, then rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair with another scoff and a “go-ahead” gesture.

            “Alright, so God is a non-entity in terms of legal action, right? We can only bring suit against individuals, religious organizations. But what if we make a case that the very concept of God is the main problem underlying common situations in court? That the old chestnut of keeping church and state separate has now created a dangerous legal precedent of not taking responsibility for one’s actions.” Ben stood up, taking several strides to either side in his excitement. “Whether that one is a person or a corporation or a flock-“

            “So, like taking the Fifth, but more like using God as a buffer against legal persecution . . . ?” Rose ventured, and was rewarded with a thumbs-up from Ben.

            “That’s it, Rose! We want to suggest that religious liberty has in fact, turned into a legal loophole that is over-exploited. Big enough for you, Mike?”

            Mike shrugged. “Where the fuck would we even start with that, Ben?” he shot back.

            “I think it’s worth a shot,” declared Brent, smoothing his tie furiously.

            Mike took the pen he always had in his mouth out and pointed its well-chewed end at Brent. Ben suspected Mike was an ex-smoker who occasionally fudged on his tobacco abstinence. “The kid think’s it’s awesome. I guess that settles it!” The sarcasm in his voice was thick enough to coat the entire room and everyone in it in a few moments of sullen silence.

            It was Ray who finally spoke. “I think the question, really, as Mike has already stated, is what exactly would this suit look like? Where do we, indeed, start? I mean, the people of Tellington are pretty God-fearing, you know. Could be quite the hard sell.”

            “Not necessarily locally, Ray. Maybe we should look beyond the town, the parish. Maybe we should begin with the state of Tennessee? After all, it’s often considered part of the Bible Belt, as you say, Ray, but a little less personal than this town. We could maybe try and take this to the Supreme Court.”

            Mike made a farting noise with his lips. “Seriously, Ben?”

            “Yes, seriously. Look, we don’t have to win the case, necessarily. We just need to get a lot of attention. Put this town, and this firm on the map.”

            “Oh, you’ll get attention, alright,” sneered Mike. He put the pen back between his teeth and clamped down, his usual way of showing he would not participate in any further conversation.

            Ray rubbed his chin slowly. “We’ll have to run it past Lew,” he stated. Rose, Ben, and Brent all groaned. Mike just grinned around his pen.

            Lew Hardin, senior partner and the only surviving one after Greg Jacobsen had dropped dead of a heart attack two years earlier, was a raging alcoholic. No one really talked about it, but it was obvious from the smell and quantity of empty bottles visible in Lew’s waste baskets during the rare occasions his office door was open. Only Ray seemed to know anything about Lew’s past, and he made it clear that Lew had suffered a tragedy that had plunged him deep into the bottle, but Ray also made it clear he would not gossip about it.

            Ben sat down again, put his elbows on the table, and his head in his hands. His next words, a bit muffled, were “I’ll talk to him.” He raised his head and looked around the table. “But let’s draft something we can really work with first before I take it to Lew.”

II

            Three days later, Ben knocked on Lew’s office door with the complaint in his hand. A suit against God for intentionally vague nomism; His instructions to humanity were not defined well enough, allowing for too much leeway in following His word. Contingent upon this also was a declaration of breach of contract on God’s part; He hadn’t bothered to clarify His terms since issuing them, either. For over two thousand years, in fact, leading to grievous loss and injury to the citizens of the state of Tennessee, a complicit partner in God’s actions. Or rather: inactions.

            “Come in,” Lew’s voice floated through the door. As Ben entered, he heard a soft thump and saw Lew straightening up in his chair. As if he’d just closed a drawer in his desk. The odor of alcohol permeated the air, and Ben caught himself before he actually fanned his nose with the folder containing the complaint and brief.

            “We have a proposal for you, Boss. A suit to bring against the state of Tennessee,” Ben informed Lew, smiling. Lew didn’t smile back.

            “Well, that’s a big proposal. Unanimous?” Lew inquired, not holding his hand out for the folder.

            “Mike more or less abstained, but otherwise, everyone’s in on this, but I’m the one who drafted this really. Rose and Brent did quite a bit of legwork for me, though.” He offered Lew the folder. Lew didn’t take it. Instead he folded his arms across his large belly, face expectant.

            “Tell me about it, then,” Lew suggested flatly.

            Ben had a specific set of talents that served him quite well as an attorney. One of these skills was his ability to sell an idea. Perhaps it was in his genes; his grandfather had been a traveling salesman, in the heyday of the door-to-door marketing strategy. He took the chair facing Lew’s desk, took a deep breath and began to outline the complaint. He interjected side explanations and paraphrased the other staff’s input on the development of said lawsuit.

            He didn’t remain seated for long. As he continued, the excitement of the IDEA crept over Ben and animated his entire being. Placing the folder on Lew’s desk to free up his hands, Ben began to gesticulate with increasing frequency and energy. He refrained from pacing back and forth though, well aware of how many people found that both distracting and annoying. After twenty minutes or so, Ben’s face was beginning to run with sweat. Lew’s office was stuffier than the rest of the firm’s space, which dealt with enough humidity and heat as it was, what with summer coming up soon.

            Lew suddenly slammed his flat hand upon his desk. It was not voluble, but the sharp noise caused Ben to break off his spiel. “I’m going to stop you right there, Ben,” Lew declared. Ben tried to read Lew’s bleary eyes for any sign of support or rejection, but Lew’s expression registered neither. Lew started at Ben for a few seconds before sighing and reaching down to pull open a drawer.

            “I know it’s no secret I drink,” Lew stated, holding up the bottle of Jack Daniels he’d just pulled out of the drawer. “And I’m okay with that,” he added. “But do you know why I drink?”

            Ben sank slowly into the chair and sat, incredibly discomforted. He shook his head. Lew jerked his head up in acknowledgment, as he put a well-worn whiskey glass on the desk. He held up the bottle, eyebrows raised quizzically. Offering Ben a drink. Ben shook his head again, more rapidly this time.

            Lew shrugged and poured himself several fingers of Jack. He drained the glass, and poured another drink of the same quantity.

            “I married twenty-seven years ago,” Lew began, his fingers gripped so tightly around the glass Ben was worried it would crack into pieces. “After the first three years, my wife, Melissa, and I had a daughter. She was- just such joy. Her name was Charlene, but I called her Charlie. When she turned seventeen, she started dating. She met this boy, although he was legally an adult then. Shane.”

            Lew wiped his face with his free hand, as if trying to erase the memory, or rather, Ben thought to himself, the pain of the memory from his mind. He began to pick up the glass, but then put it back down. This was a story he needed to finish first.

            “Shane was- ah- there just wasn’t anything good about him. He was decent looking, dressed fine, had a job. Came from a solid family, even. But he just seemed, I don’t know, off. Like everything around him was boring him. Like it was all an act.”

            Definition of a sociopath, Ben realized, but he kept his observation to himself. He intuitively knew Lew needed to tell this story in its entirety.

            “And that made it so much harder. Melissa and I, we couldn’t really tell Charlie she couldn’t be with Shane. Sure, there was the age difference- she was still in high school, but we didn’t want to push her into Shane’s arms any more than she already was. So we had to just bear down and wait for the relationship to end. Those things never last, you know?”

            Lew fell silent, and stared at the bottle in front of him. The room was so still Ben could hear his own heartbeat, which was starting to quicken. Ben was an avid reader, and could tell when a story was about to turn. But he kept silent. The story needed to be told. After a while that seemed interminable, Lew inhaled so deeply it sounded like a gasp.

            “So then we get the news. Charlie’s pregnant. We had many long talks about that, Melissa and I, and we didn’t want our girl to throw away her future. We asked, begged even, Charlie to think about giving the child up for adoption, or even- well let’s just say, we had been pro-life, or more less until then. But when our daughter’s life, her future came into it, we really wanted her to have- choices. Options. Opportunities. You get what I mean, Ben. Even Shane agreed with us. He said it wasn’t a good time, and that Charlie wasn’t ready to be a mother. Maybe he was just scared, but who wouldn’t be?

            “But Charlie was set on having the baby- and we were still holding out, hoping she’d put it up for adoption afterwards- so she went through the whole thing- all the way into her third trimester. The morning her water broke-“ Lew hiccupped. Then Ben realized it wasn’t a hiccup, but a sob.

            “Shane and Charlie got into her car. Shane drove-and that- that will always stick with me- the ‘what ifs’ of that. What if she had been driving? What if the speed was different- that’s what kills the soul, Ben. The What Ifs. So Shane was driving. Too fast! Yes, she was having contractions, so I do understand why he was speeding. Hell, I probably did when I drove Melissa to the hospital when she had Charlie.

            “So the left front tire blows. And as fast as they were going, the car ends up flipping. Shane couldn’t control the wheel. The paramedics were pretty quick. We were on our way to the hospital already, thinking we’d get to see our grandchild soon. We hadn’t heard about the crash yet, and the ambulance had them there before we even arrived. Well- Charlie didn’t make it. She died en route- her chest had just pretty much been crushed. She had the seatbelt on, but she had it higher up, because of her belly.

            “The baby died too. The umbilical cord shifted in the accident, completely cut off the baby’s circulation, strangled it, something like that. I barely listened to the doctor then. Melissa was just a mess. And Shane? Not a scratch on him. Not a bruise. He walked away from that totaled wreck of a car clean. He also walked away from the entire thing clean. He didn’t stay with us, didn’t offer help, apologies, nothing. Soon as the doctor gave him the okay, he left the hospital, not twenty minutes after we arrived and got the terrible news. That was the last time I ever heard from that asshole.

            “When we finally headed back home after such excruciating time at the hospital, the morgue, and on the phone with the funeral home, it was hours later. Late enough to be dark outside.  And when we got on the interstate, a drunk driver jumped the median divide and hit us, head on. On the passenger side, anyway. Melissa was not killed instantly, but she bled out by the time the paramedics arrive. I watched the life fade from those beautiful, vivacious eyes.”

            Lew’s face was wet with tears now. He brought the glass up fiercely enough to hit his teeth audibly as he drained the glass again. He didn’t toss the glass down, but when it hit the desk, it bounced and spun out of Lew’s reach. Uncaring, Lew grabbed the bottle, and brought it halfway up to his mouth.

            “So you want to sue God? Do it. I don’t owe Him any fucking favors. You sue that bastard, for everything He’s got,” Lew said, his voice seething with barely suppressed rage. “Now get out, and let me drown my liver in peace.”

III

            The Honorable Margaret Robinson whipped her glasses off the very moment Ben and Rose entered her chambers.

            “What in the flying fuck is this?” the judge demanded, jabbing her finger at the open folder before her: The suit against God and the State of Tennessee, as drafted by Hardin and Jacobsen. “You expect anyone to take this seriously? You expect me to take this seriously?”

            “Yes, your Honor, we do,” Ben replied. Judge Robinson shook her head, her mouth tight as she interrupted.

            “This is nothing more than a publicity stunt, and you know it!” Rose began to protest, but Ben placed his hand lightly upon her shoulder. Rose glanced at him and was rewarded with a reassuring nod. She nearly put her hand over his, but knew that would shred any semblance of professionalism in the already tense environment.

            “Your Honor, this is every inch a publicity stunt,” Ben agreed, eliciting a startled laugh from the judge.  “But it’s more than that, though. And we are certain that our definition of a publicity stunt may differ than yours. If I may explain our reasoning?”

            The judge waved exasperatedly. “I have a feeling that’s what you intend to do, regardless of my reply. But I scheduled this meeting to find out what’s going on with this- nonsense. I really do hope I do not find that my time has been completely wasted, because I will recall that every time you or any other attorney with Hardin and Jacobsen appear in my court.” The judge finished this warning as she put her glasses back on to skim over the pages of the brief, shaking her head in disbelief.

            “Understood, your Honor,” Ben replied. “We at the firm feel strongly that the dichotomy of how religion affects law requires attention in these times. By continuing to address specific cases in courts all over the country, we do see change, yes, progress, even, but we also see regression. We see religion continuing to impact policy and law, in a country that continually sings the refrain of ‘keep church and state separate’. The inverse, when law infringes upon religion in different ways, like in the form of taxes, even, often draws public outcry and national scrutiny.”

            “And you want that scrutiny to be, I don’t know, balanced?” the judge queried. Ben nodded once, and spread his arms wide.  The judge sighed heavily, and took her glasses off again to rub the bridge of her nose.  “This is a novel approach, I must say, Ben-”

            “Well, there is precedent in the case of-“ Ben began eagerly, but the judge cut him off with a finger raised in warning.

            “I will not brook any interruption here. I will deliberate upon this. The question of God alone as a party in a suit? I said, no interruption!” the judge barked, as Ben took a quick breath. “If and only if, I decide to allow this suit to be brought to my court, then I will most certainly be in touch with you to clarify a few terms of this complaint. Until then, I want no further contact from you or any representative of your firm. Any attempt to find out my decision before I am ready to divulge it will result in an immediate dismissal of this . . . with extreme prejudice. Do I make myself clear?”

            “Mighty clear, Your Honor,” Ben acknowledged, inclining his head in lieu of touching his hat as a sign or respect, since he wore no hat. He and Rose made their retreat from the peeved judge’s office. Once in the open air outside the courthouse, Rose looked up at Ben.

            “Do you think she’ll really let us do this?” she asked him. Ben considered her question for a few moments, then broke out into a brilliant smile as he quoted Tennessee Williams with an exaggerated drawl.

            “We got nothing to do but wait for tomorrow and see if we’re remembered or forgotten.”

IV

            Judge Marge Robinson refused to give her answer over the phone or via email. When she called the firm to announce that she had made her decision, three weeks had crept past at an agonizingly slow pace for Ben. The judge summoned Ben back to her chambers, and this time, he went alone. If she rejected the suit, Ben preferred to bear the humiliation of that by himself.

            When Ben entered the judge’s chambers, he caught himself smoothing his tie out. It seemed that the near-constant presence of Brent during the many recent late nights of research and discussing strategy was beginning to wear off onto him. His amusement died a quick death, however, in the withering gaze that Judge Robinson fixed upon Ben.

            “Sit,” she said, apparently choosing not to stand on formality. Ben sat. His hand crept up towards his tie, but then he stopped himself, and instead fell back upon more familiar territory. He smiled.

            “Tell me, counselor, how this complaint might have any chance at all of taking place in my court, or any other court of law, if this one problem cannot be surmounted,” the judge demanded, eyes locked upon Ben, “if due process cannot take place?”

            “Due process?” Ben repeated, completely caught off guard. Of all the questions he had expected and prepared to have to field, this one was nowhere near the ballpark. The judge nodded, her smile sour.

            “Yes, due process. Let’s say we want to summon God to answer this complaint. How can we possibly serve the summons?” The judge shook her head dismissively. Ben, however, now that he understood her question had an answer at the ready.

            “Ah, I see. Your Honor, there is a precedent for this. An address for a summons to be served in this particular case is actually moot, because the party named in conjunction with the State of Tennessee is omniscient. Therefore, God would be aware of the summons once it is issued.”

            The judge jerked her head back, and frowned. “Come on now,” she rebuked Ben, “that would hardly stand up in court as a valid line of reasoning.”

            “Then that makes the State of Tennessee solely responsible for all legal action based in religious tenets. If the State acknowledges there is no God, or that God is not omniscient despite all documentation to the contrary, then citing God, religious liberty, or faith as the foundation of any policy or law is itself fundamentally illegal in terms of representing all the people. If the State acknowledges that God exists, has an address in Heaven, and also by dint of being God, would be aware of the summons, then the State is complicit in the interpretation and implementation of God’s word in policy without clearly stated intent on God’s-”

            “Alright, Ben.” The judge stared at Ben, removing her glasses to maintain eye contact more directly. “You are truly prepared to see this through, then?”

            “I am, Your Honor. This is an important issue.” Ben declared. The judge’s mouth quirked into a smile, a real one. She shook her head, bemused.

            “Fine. You may file the complaint. But, let me advise you,” she warned, pointing her finger at Ben. “You and your firm are on your own here.  Whomever the State brings in as defense, that will be your cross to bear. Also, this case is already on extremely shaky ground. I will not tolerate a media circus inside or outside my court. Also any tomfoolery or sass will result in this case being thrown out.”

            Ben leapt to his feet, and extended his hand to the judge, beaming. She took it, but lightly; more of a tap against his palm. “Thank you for your consideration, Your Honor!” he exclaimed.

            Judge Robinson chuckled wryly. “The law does need to be challenged once in a while to create progress as you say, counselor. Just . . . no circus.”

            “Never, Your Honor,” Ben promised, turning for the door and delving into his jacket pocket for his phone so he could share the news with Rose and the others at the office.

V

            Although it was more like two or three days, it seemed to Ben that the millisecond that the complaint was filed, all Hell broke loose. (Or should that be Heaven?) It seemed that every possible variation of oddball characters exploded forth from the woodwork. Cynthia, the part-time receptionist, was hired on full-time to deal with the flood of mail and emails; predominantly death threats and hate mail. Another woman, a recent high school graduate by the name of Jasmine Brown, was hired to replace to Cynthia as the part-time receptionist for walk-ins.

            Judge Robinson made it clear there would be no cameras allowed in the court; press was severely limited, also closely monitored, but the massive throngs of people gathered outside the courthouse only seemed to grow every day. The most obvious populace with a reaction to the suit was the outspoken, deeply religious people who allowed their politics to be guided and influenced by their beliefs- the very people highlighted in the complaint. Yet those people only made up a part of the crowd. There were the journalists, trying to get the scoop on whatever transpired during the suit, hungry and hawkish.  There were the theologians, also the sociologists, desiring new material to publish articles about, hot and philosophical. There were the doomsayers, angrily orating that the courthouse was the nexus of the End Times, vindicated and fierce. There were the atheists, exhilarated that someone was challenging the assumption called God, vindictive and eager. There were the clergy, seeking reassurance that their faith would survive this latest obstacle, patient and nervous. There were the curiosity seekers, equally as interested in being on T.V. or the internet as the outcome of the lawsuit, garrulous and gaudy.

            Every day, Ben, Rose, and Brent braved the gauntlet, to make their way into Judge Robinson’s court, to face their greatest hurdle: Jared Lee. Jared Lee was the lead defense lawyer for the State of Tennessee, and ostensibly for God as well.

            If a bull shark had mated with a wolverine, had an offspring, then injected this offspring with wild boar steroids, the resulting creature would have perhaps half the dogged tenacity and viciousness of Jared Lee. Jared’s reputation for his relentless approach in the courtroom and his fiery eloquence regarding his personal faith were well-documented. His dashing, youthful appearance didn’t hurt his popularity much, either.

            On the first day, Jared came out swinging. He immediately requested that the suit be dismissed, because any suit against God was spurious in nature. “God cannot be held accountable to our laws,” he declared in his smooth baritone, during his opening statement

            Ben, however, was more than ready for this, thanks to Brent’s notes on precedents set in earlier cases. “Then we should not craft our laws to be accountable to God, then. If we have free will, and no intervention from God in the process of creating our laws, then we should not have any legislation that is faith-based. History, however, shows us that we have more than plenty of such legislation. This presumes that God is then a stakeholder in the practice and application of such laws,” Ben countered.

            The media ate it all up. The news coverage was near-constant; talk show hosts and political pundits engaged in frantic discourse about the implications of the lawsuit upon society in Tennessee and the rest of the country. Then somebody remembered that the Scopes trial had taken place in Tennessee as well. The forthcoming comparisons, memes, and “monkeys vs. creation’ parodies seemed to spout endlessly on every media course, online and broadcast.

            The “Re-Scopes” trial moniker, as the media decided to call it, much to the chagrin and disgust of Hardin and Jacobsen, but to Jared Lee’s delight (He reminded the court that Clarence Darrow, on the side of “evolution”, had been found guilty in the original trial of 1925.) became a mainstay in the media. And an albatross around the collective necks of Ben’s team.

            In short, the media frenzy exhausted Ben and the others thoroughly.

VI

            Not surprisingly, the Re-Scopes team spent every night late at the office, trying to ensure they were prepared for further arguments against Jared Lee and his crack team of attorneys. Upon one such all-nighter, Ben leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He suspected that he might be in need of a prescription for glasses; a first for him. Age happened to everyone, whether they liked it or not. Rose glanced at him and chuckled. She began to stack the Chinese takeout cartons, to clear some space in front of her on the table. When she was done, she seated herself partly on the tabletop, leaning back to catch Ben’s gaze when he finally removed his fingers from his eyes and opened them.

            When Ben saw her, she smiled. Ben mirrored her smile, gesturing at the papers spread haphazardly across the surface of the table. “I think the most difficult aspect of this for me,” he remarked, reaching out to nab a pork dumpling, “is how so much of this is really just semantics, interpretation of the law, without hard facts. I almost wish there was truly some hard evidence one way or the other on whether God actually exists.”  He popped the dumpling into his mouth, grimaced at how cold it was, and turned around to see if there were any pods left to put into the Keurig.

            Rose followed his gaze, and divining his thoughts, got up to check the basket of mostly empty pods, and fished out an unopened pod. She held it up, and Ben gave her the thumbs up. She inserted the pod into the machine and as it whirred to life, she addressed Ben.

            “So, I’m curious, what do you mean, almost wish?” Ben nodded, wiping his mouth with the last unsullied inch left on a greasy paper napkin.

            “I just think about the consequences, really, if one religion was proved to be irrefutably true above any other, what that would do to society. Humanity. The world. We need doubt as much as we need faith, I think, in the grander scheme of- well- you know, all of it. Ah, I’m so tired.” Ben chuckled ruefully. Rose chuckled sympathetically as she poured half of the coffee from the cup underneath the spigot into a new cup.

            She crossed over to Ben and handed him one of the cups. As he sipped the coffee, she inhaled deeply. “Ben,” she stammered, “I- well, I just wanted to let you know I really appreciate working with you, this has been quite the experience.”

            Ben tapped the edge of her coffee cup with his. “No kidding. Re-Scopes. Here’s hoping we all live to see this though!” He laughed. Rose chuckled again, but shook her head gently.

            “Well, yes, but I didn’t mean the suit, actually. I meant this- just getting to spend time with you, getting to know you so much better-” She moved in close to Ben, biting her lower lip. She put her hand on Ben’s chest, and was gratified to discover his heartbeat was almost as frantic as hers. But when she leaned in to kiss Ben, he scooted back in his chair, the wheels squeaking slightly as he pushed himself back several more inches.

            “Oh, Rose- I’m just so sorry,” Ben exclaimed, contrite, as Rose gasped, mortified at her rejection. “I totally thought you knew,” he added, standing up to console Rose in some way.

            “You’re in a relationship?” Rose blurted out, “But you never talked about-” Ben shook his head, patting Rose awkwardly on her shoulder.

            “No- no I’m single, but- I’m gay, Rose.” Rose uttered an incredulous laugh and covered her mouth with her free hand.

            “Oh Christ, do I feel stupid,” she groaned, shaking her head. Ben took her by the shoulders to look into her eyes.

            “No, please don’t. Like I said, I thought you knew. Look, let’s just call it a night, yes? We can pick this up in the morning,” he suggested.

            “Yeah, along with the pieces of my dignity,” Rose muttered. Ben laughed, surprised by the remark. Rose stared at him for a moment, then laughed and groaned. The moment had passed, and they would be okay.

            Just outside the room, Brent stood in stunned silence in the hallway, holding a pink box. He hadn’t known either about Ben’s sexuality until just now, returning from a donut run to The Donut Castle, open twenty-four hours.

VII

            On the seventh day of the case, Jared Lee swaggered into the courtroom. Ben glanced at Rose. Rose rolled her eyes. So far, Hardin and Jacobsen had held their own against Team Lee, but that didn’t stop Jared from constantly acting as if he had the ultimate weapon ready to bear upon Ben’s team and utterly annihilate them. He also came up with endless challenges and irrelevant claims that seemed designed to keep Ben’s team on the defensive and off-balance. Ben sighed, waiting to see what new tack Jared was going to take this time.

            “Your Honor, we would like to make the motion that this suit be dropped, by reason of lacking legal merit,” Jared declared to Judge Robinson. The judge raised an eyebrow. She looked at Ben.

            “Your Honor,” Ben replied, ”if you were expecting an objection from me, I have no doubt I will have grounds for one, once our esteemed colleague explains himself.” A ripple of laughter came from the gallery but quickly stilled, as the judge raised a warning hand. The judge returned her gaze to Jared Lee.

            “I agree with Counselor Synder. Mr. Lee, will you elaborate, please, for the court?”

            “Nothing would please me more, Your Honor,” Jared Lee declared, stepping out from behind the desk. “The naming of God as a party in this suit, holds no legal merit, in that God has never proven to be an individual. We argue that God is a concept, an idea that shapes faith in many forms. To bring suit against God, as if God were a person is spurious, and indeed, not possible.”

            Well that was really out of left field, Ben thought to himself. He put his pen to his notes, ready to start crafting a response, and realized that he had none. He smiled, putting a mask over his sudden desperation. Then his name came up as a whisper behind him. Ben turned to see Brent holding out a folded piece of paper. Ben gave the intern a quick nod as he took the paper. When he opened it, he saw the following in Brent’s handwriting: Witnesses verifying God is a person/being. Ben’s smile became genuine.

            “Your Honor, we would like to request a brief continuance to complete our list of witnesses to be called to challenge this motion.” Ben retorted.

            “Witnesses?” the judge and Jared Lee said in near unison. Ben nodded, spreading his hands out in a gesture of “isn’t it obvious?”.

            “Yes, to determine God’s status as either a person or an idea. We will be calling witnesses to testify on this matter.” Ben clarified.  He thought he heard a faint chuckle from Brent behind him.

            “Objection!” Jared Lee called out. The judge stared at him. Then she shook her head slightly, eyebrows raised.

            “On what grounds? You’re the one who brought up the question of God’s standing as a person, Counselor,” The judge reminded Jared. Jared opened his mouth, then shut it again. “You have until ten a.m. on Thursday, the day after tomorrow, Counselor Synder. I imagine your witness list will be . . .  lengthy?”

            Ben beamed at the judge and Jared Lee. “There’ll be a few names.”

           

VIII

            If Ben thought he had known exhaustion before, he realized he’d barely scratched the surface of how debilitating the process of preparing for a day in court could be. Rose and Brent had poured all their energy into helping Ben find a respectable number of credible witnesses. Ray had helped, calling in favors that went as far back to when he was a law student. Even Lew made a call or two, and he also called Mike into his office and told him if he wanted to keep earning his pay, Mike should get off his ass and put some time into the team’s research.

            Ben decided to mix up the witness criteria. He didn’t want just theologians, anthropologists, or historians. He wanted a cross-section of the American strata, to reinforce the idea that if you asked anyone how God was perceived, the most likely answer would be “A being”.  But there were problems. Budgetary and time constraints. In the handful of hours afforded them by Judge Robinson, the partners and employees of Hardin and Jacobsen interviewed 91 people in person, and quite a few more via phone and email. Hundreds of interested parties showed up endlessly at the front doors, all wanting to be interviewed. The new receptionist’s sister and some friends came in to help handle the volume of phone calls and emails pouring in by the hour. Ben had a new-found appreciation for the wellspring of boundless energy that teenagers apparently had a direct line to; watching those girls constantly filtering the calls and emails, all the while chattering away and glancing at their phones every few minutes. He just felt more exhausted.

            Jared Lee had opened the floodgates to every person who had a stake in God being real, it seemed. The entire team grumbled, but they also seemed to be taking some satisfaction in the firm receiving so much media coverage. Ray probably summed it up best, when he walked into the men’s restroom in the firm, and saw Ben standing at one of the urinals. Ray stood next to Ben, relieving himself. Ben finished up, and zipping his fly, crossed to the sink to wash his hands. Ray chose that moment to speak.

            “I got to hand it you, Ben. However this goes down, I reckon you’ve made your mark on history. You put us on the map, no two ways about it. Well done, son.”

Ben smiled at Ray’s reflection in the mirror, and as he dried his hands, he retorted, “You wanna repeat that for Mike, maybe?”

Ray joined Ben at the sink, and began to wash his own hands. “No need for that. Mike said ‘bout the same thing to me earlier today. We’re all proud of you in our own way, Ben.”

Ben thanked Ray, and left the restroom. As he walked to his office, he felt slightly less exhausted. He sat in the chair at his desk smiling, humming the tune to “Southern Comfort Zone” by Brad Paisley as he began to spin his chair slowly around.

IX

“You just have to take it on faith,” Ephraim Colquitt explained, lifting his shoulders in a shrug and holding his large hands up. Ephraim resembled the earth he made his living from; earthy, cragged, and a bit dusty. Even though he had cleaned up for his appearance upon the witness stand, his nails and wrinkles still gave the impression of embedded dirt. This was a man who had spent his entire life on a farm, and would be buried in the same earth he tilled. Ben leaned forward, standing with his hands on the table. He wanted to be closer to the witness stand, but Judge Robinson didn’t like lawyers crossing the well unless she expressly allowed it.

“Indeed, sir,” Ben agreed, nodding encouragingly, “we do understand that, but can you clarify why you do think that God is a being, specifically?”

Ephraim lifted his shoulders again. “Well, we are made in His image, aren’t we? If God didn’t look like people, then we wouldn’t look like we did!” He leaned back in his chair, satisfied with his logic. But then he sat up straight again, evidently struck by a new thought. “And there’s the whole angel thing, too. People see them all the time, and they look like us too. They were made in His image, too! So there you go,” he added. Ben smiled, and then looked at Jared Lee who sat in his chair, face as sour as if he’d just swallowed a sweaty sock.

“Your witness, counselor,” Ben remarked, taking his own seat. Jared Lee wearily got to his feet. Ben’s team might have been perpetually exhausted since the beginning of the trial, but it seemed as if Jared and his own team was starting to hit the bottom of their own energy reserves. Jared Lee had initially been condescending towards the first dozen or so of Ben’s witnesses, bordering upon downright disrespectful, until Judge Robinson had given him a sharp reprimand that regardless of his own opinions, Jared Lee had better treat the witnesses with the dignity they deserved. Their belief in God was not the issue at question, she reminded Jared Lee, but God’s legal status.

“Tell me, Mr. Colquitt, have you ever seen an angel yourself?” Jared Lee inquired. Ephraim frowned, either suspicious of Jared Lee’s intentions, or searching his memory for any recollection of angel sightings. After a few moments, the farmer slowly shook his head. “Could you state if you have seen an angel or not, for the court reporter, please?” Jared Lee asked, glancing at Judge Robinson.

“Naw, I can’t say that I have,” Ephraim confessed. “But there are plenty of accounts out there,” he added.

“That there are,” Jared Lee said amiably. “Now let us suppose, that you had never heard or seen any accounts of angels, do you think you might recognize one?”

“Objection,” Ben interjected. “Calls for speculation.” Judge Robinson nodded her head.

“Sustained. Counselor Lee, please find a more definitive line of questioning or wrap up your cross-examination.”

Jared Lee exhaled noisily. He shot Ben a venomous glance, then looked at Ephraim again.

“But in those accounts, aren’t angels described differently than humans? They don’t look quite the same, correct?”

Ephraim nodded. “Well, we don’t have wings!” he declared in a ‘no duh” tone. The gallery erupted into laughter. Judge Robinson groped for her gavel. She, too, was becoming quite weary.

Three days later, she summoned Ben into her chambers again, after adjourning for the day. Ben entered the room, and sat when indicated by Judge Robinson. She sat in the chair next to his, and looked at him over the rims of her glasses. Ben blinked, reminded anew he should go visit the optometrist.

“So now that the court has acknowledged that God is a persona that can be addressed for the purposes of this case, and therefore can be summoned for questioning, I will ask you one last time, are you still prepared to go forward without any kind of antics? I grant you,” she added, holding her hand up to forestall his reply, “the general conduct has been tolerable thus far, but thus far, the idea of God actually being sued hasn’t been the focus yet in my courtroom. So, are you still doing this, in a serious manner?”

Ben considered his answer for a few moments. “The first time you asked about this, I admitted that it was a publicity stunt, but at the same time, an idea worth exploring as it bears upon current law. The more I work on this, the more I want to see this through to the end. But,” he added with a rueful smile as he mirrored the judge’s earlier gesture, anticipating her response, “to be honest, I do not know what the end would be at this juncture.”

“Hmmm. Fair enough. And speaking of fair, I now need to see Counselor Lee for a few minutes so he doesn’t not think I am playing favorites. I will see you tomorrow morning, Counselor.” The judge stood, then in a rare display of warmth, smiled and put her hand out for Ben to shake.

X

            Ben clenched his teeth to hide the prodigious yawn that threatened to split his face into half. He had barely gotten any sleep the previous night. He didn’t get much sleep those nights, but this one was especially wakeful. He’d thought about nothing but his conversation with Judge Robinson in her chambers the previous day. About what the end of this would be. He was so very tired.

            “All rise,” declared the bailiff. As the judge strode to her seat behind the bench, Ben wobbled slightly, feeling lightheaded.

            “You may be seated,” Judge Robinson said. “Court is now in session,” she added, tapping her gavel upon its block. She steepled her fingers together, and looked at Ben.

            “Counselor Synder, the next move is yours, given the point at where we adjourned yesterday. What will it be?”

            Ben stood again, and immediately had to stifle another yawn. “Your Honor, the prosecution calls God to the witness stand.” Laughter spilled forth from the gallery, but before the judge could grab her gavel, Ben turned to address the gallery. “If you believe in God, why do you find it so hard to believe that He would come here?” he hurled at the spectators. Nearly the entire room fell silent. The members of the press that the judge had allowed furiously wrote down this quote for posterity. Both Brent and Rose grinned at Ben.

            “Counselor, you will refrain from theatrics,” warned Judge Robinson. Ben nodded sheepishly. “Well, let the witness so called come forth,” the judge added. A deep silence fell upon the courtroom as nearly everyone swiveled towards the entrance doors. After a few moments, the bailiff started, and then walked towards the doors, as if checking to see if God was waiting outside. God wasn’t.

            It was Jared Lee who broke the lull. “Your Honor, can we finally dispense with this farce?” He was rewarded with a chilly glare from the judge.

            “Are you saying, Counselor, that I am presiding over a farce?” Jared Lee immediately backpedaled, blinking furiously.

            “What? Oh no, no my apologies, your Honor-“ he stammered.

            “Your Honor, it would appear that the witness has chosen not to appear. Or has been detained,” Ben said. “I would like to make two motions.”

            “And they are?” Judge Robinson prompted.

            “The first, that God be found in contempt of court for not responding to His summons. The second, that this case be dismissed, since the primary party of the suit has failed to appear.”

            Jared Lee threw his hands up in exasperation, but catching Judge Robinson’s eye, immediately sat down.

            “I will grant the second motion, Counselor, and as for the first . . .” Judge Robinson smiled tightly. “If I ever hear from Him, I will certainly address His negligence. For now, I will reserve judgement on that motion. This case is dismissed, and court is now adjourned. Good day, counselors.”

            The court room erupted into chaos. Ben had no idea how he made it out of the room or the building, but he had a vague impression that Brent had pulled him by the hand all the way to the company car.

            Two hours later, Ben sat in the coffee room by himself, nursing a cup of hot coffee. He would go home very soon, and finally get some real sleep. The others had returned to their offices, after a brief celebration. They hadn’t won anything, but they hadn’t lost anything either. The publicity had launched their law firm into the national eye, and business was going to be really, really great. Ray had already informed Ben that Lew would be retiring, and there would be space for a new partner. Someone who had showed real initiative in securing the future of the firm. Ben broke out into a smile that became a loud yawn.

            “You going to head home soon?” Ben spun around to see Brent standing in the doorway of the coffee room. Brent smoothed out his tie, as he beamed at Ben. Ben raised his coffee cup.

            “Soon, yes. Just taking a moment to reflect on all this, you know?” Brent nodded his agreement. He gestured towards the chair next to Ben’s. Ben nodded. Brent quickly crossed over to the chair and sat down.

            “I just wanted to tell you, Ben, that I really admire what you did,” Brent gushed. Ben shook his head tiredly.

            “It wasn’t just me, you know that, Brent. Everyone pitched in. Some of your ideas and input were truly valuable. You’re a great asset to this firm,” Ben assured the younger man. Brent’s cheeks colored slightly. He glanced at the open door of the coffee room.

            “I should probably confess this,” Brent muttered. “I didn’t do it all just for the sake of the firm. I- I really respect you, Ben. Like, a lot. In fact, I think I might- no, I do-“ he gulped audibly. “Have a crush on you,” he finished in a rush.

            Ben smiled, and raised his cup again in salutation. Normally, he would have been giddy, or annoyed, but he was honestly too tired to really process what Brent at just told him.

            “I always thought you were really smart, but this IDEA was brilliant,” Brent continued, putting special emphasis on the word ‘idea’. “Who could blame you, really, for suing God? Considering the state of the world? But I got to ask you, why would you believe in this God, the God of the Southern states, that is behind so much homophobia?”

            Ben studied the earnest expression of the intern. Then he smiled warmly, and reached out to smooth out Brent’s tie. “Oh, I don’t know, He can’t be all that bad. After all, you’re here.” He leaned in to kiss Brent.