"Objection," Amato said.
He sounded bored. He sounded amused. He sounded frustrated,
Jack marveled.
All
of that in one nine-letter word. The guy was simply magnificent.
"What does any of this have to do with the fact that Mr.
Strockmire is representing an animal in this court and doesn't have a shred of
standing for his plaintiff?" Amato challenged.
Warren Krookshank seemed to ponder that, and looked down at Herman.
"This court concedes that inequalities exist, Counselor. However, this
court is also bound by legal precedent. The defense raises a good point.
Historically, only
Homo sapiens
have been allowed access to our judicial
system."
"Your Honor, need I remind you of Dred Scott—a slave who was
told that because he was a slave, and therefore was defined as property, he
could not sue for his own freedom in a court of law? That decision was
eventually overturned by the Supreme Court. But before that it was the law. He
was denied court standing, just as Charles Chimera is being denied his legal
access. Even though he is closer to a human, by virtue of his DNA chart, than a
Down's syndrome child or a genetically damaged fetus—many of whom have availed
themselves of their legal rights in federal court.
"I have here a table of federal cases in which the court has
heard lawsuits on behalf of beings with DNA further
from the human
norm than Charles Chimera's, together with a description of their DNA status. I
would like to submit this as Exhibit B." He rummaged in his folder and
withdrew a stack of pages, then handed his list of cases to the clerk, who
marked them. Herman handed out copies to the defense, then reached up and
ceremoniously laid one on Judge Krookshank's bench.
"I have to admit, there is something in this argument that is
intriguing," Krookshank said. "The law must be prepared to change
with the times. However, I'm still not convinced. I'm going to let you continue
on the assumption that as we proceed you will establish facts to bring this
more clearly into focus. I will rule on the issue of Charles Chimera's standing
at some point down the road."
"Objection, Your Honor," Amato roared.
"Overruled."
"Exception."
"Noted."
A break in the action. They all sat around looking at one another
wondering what to do next.
"Your Honor," Mr. Amato finally argued. "We don't
accept the existence of any such thing as a chimera."
"I have submitted to this court a chart of Charles Chimera's
DNA base pairs. It proves without a doubt that he exists, even though his
presence in court is not possible today. However, we will have testimony from
witnesses who have seen Charles Chimera. I heard him speak, and will offer my own
declarations as to those facts."
"It's not possible, because there isn't anything or anyone
called Charles Chimera. This hybrid animal doesn't exist and Mr. Strockmire has
no proof that it does," Amato said.
"Your Honor, I'm prepared to put on a genetic expert, Dr.
Carolyn Adjemenian, who will testify that this gene map could not be
reverse-engineered."
"And we will put on ten experts who will explain how it can
be reverse-engineered," Amato shot back. "This map of base pairs is
nothing but a puzzle designed in a computer. There is no chimera, or whatever.
Counsel can't
prove there is!
If he could, you'd see it sitting there."
Herman stood and handed up a discovery motion. "Your Honor,
the gene map speaks for itself, but if Mr. Amato wants the real thing, the
chimeras are currently being held and experimented on at the Ten-Eyck
reservation out by Indio. They're being trained out there to be soldiers by an
agency of the federal government. I want this court to grant this discovery motion
to allow us to go out there and see for ourselves."
"A fishing expedition? Is that what this has finally turned
into?" Amato said. "Perhaps we should also go looking for
Bigfoot."
"No," Herman shot back. "It's not a fishing
expedition, it's a discovery motion, a document whereby you, sir, are ordered
to produce the hybrid animals in question."
"Your Honor, I resent that and object. Moreover, if counsel
is making a discovery motion, the defense has not been given proper
notice."
Warren Krookshank had his glasses back on and was looking at the
motion, flipping pages. Then the judge looked up from the document. "As to
the lack of notice, in the interest of time I'll consider this motion now and
give Mr. Amato a chance to submit opposition in a minute, if I think it
warranted."
The drones on the defense team were huddled over the motion,
reading fast.
"This discovery motion seems in order, Mr. Amato. I don't
think I'll need anything further from you," Krookshank announced.
"Except for one thing, Your Honor." Amato wasn't out of
it yet.
"And what's that?" Krookshank said, looking up.
"It's an Indian reservation, and as such is not covered by
the discovery requests of this court. As you know, tribal lands are sovereign
territories much like foreign embassies, and therefore are not subject to U.S.
federal laws or rules of evidence. Anticipating this move by Mr. Strockmire, I
have already talked to the Ten-Eyck Tribal Administrator,
who has informed
me that it is their long-standing policy to deny legal summonses and motions
with regard to the reservation. With that in mind, we are objecting to this
discovery motion under
Apache Nation
v.
the Office of Indian Affairs,
U.S.A. v. the Chippewah Nation, U.S.A.
v.
the Seminole Nation, et al.
The
list is extensive, Your Honor. Lengthy precedent exists here. This is an old
burial ground of legal arguments—excuse the pun."
"Your Honor, I would like to call a witness who I think can
clarify this matter for all of us," Herman said.
"And who is that?" Judge Krookshank asked.
"Russell Ibanazi, chief of the Ten-Eyck tribe. He has
pertinent testimony regarding the issue counsel raises."
"Your Honor, Chief Ibanazi has no position with regard to
this land. He doesn't even live on the reservation. The Tribal Administrator is
a man named Scott Nichols. He and he alone is in charge of Ten-Eyck tribal
affairs on the reservation. I have his prepared affidavit here denying
access."
"Your Honor, Scott Nichols is no longer—"
"Just a minute. Let me review this affidavit first,"
Krookshank said as Amato handed up his paperwork. Judge Krookshank readjusted
his glasses and began to read. Herman didn't bother to read it because he
already knew it was irrelevant. "Counsel seems to have a point,"
Krookshank said after shooting through the document. He removed his glasses and
looked at Herman.
"Your Honor, may I please call Russell Ibanazi? I promise he
can clarify all of this for you."
"All right, call your witness," Krookshank said.
"Objection."
"Overruled."
"The plaintiff calls Russell Ibanazi," Herman announced.
The bailiff opened the door and Izzy strode into court. He was
dressed in a charcoal suit, starched white shirt, with a black-and-red tie and
matching pocket square. His black hair glistened. Jack thought he looked better
than Wayne
Newton on
Hollywood
Squares.
Izzy took the stand and was sworn in.
Herman moved toward him. "Mr. Ibanazi, could you tell us your
position with respect to the Ten-Eyck tribe?"
"I am the chief. My male ancestors have held that position
for almost two hundred years."
"I see. And who is currently in charge of tribal affairs at
the Ten-Eyck reservation?" Herman asked.
"I am."
"Objection, Your Honor," Amato said. "This
statement is clearly in conflict with the affidavit I just submitted, which
confirms that Scott Nichols is the Tribal Administrator."
"Was the Tribal Administrator," Herman said. "He
was voted out of his job last night by the entire Ten-Eyck tribe."
Herman stepped forward. "I have here a copy of the Ten-Eyck
tribal laws, which provide that the Tribal Administrator may be replaced at any
time by a majority vote of the Tribal Council. I also have a notarized record
of that vote, which was taken at ten thirty-five last night." Herman
opened a folder and removed the notarized records, then dealt out copies like a
blackjack dealer.
"Your Honor, the Ten-Eyck tribe has entered into a binding contract
with the U.S. government to lease that land," Amato persisted. "This
vote is in violation of the government's lease agreement." He was scanning
the document.
"Counsel?" Krookshank said looking over at Herman.
"Didn't Mr. Amato just say that reservation land was
sovereign and not subject to the jurisdiction of the American courts? Didn't we
just hear that?" Herman crowed.
"I believe we did," Krookshank was smiling slightly.
"Then I think if he wants to argue that one, he needs to file
a breach-of-contract suit and see if he can get some civil court to overrule
the long-standing list of decisions he just provided us with."
Herman held up Amato's list of Vs.
"I agree," Krookshank said. "Proceed,
counselor."
"Chief Ibanazi, I'm going to show you a discovery motion and
ask if you have any objections to the court making a trip out to your
reservation to see if Charles Chimera and these five John Doe chimeras can be
located?" Herman said.
"Absolutely no problem," Izzy responded. "You're
all invited."
Judge Krookshank looked at his watch. "In the interest of
preserving the evidence, how 'bout three this afternoon? I'll have the marshal
arrange for some vans." He banged his gavel. "This court stands in
recess."
W
hile everybody else waited for three
o'clock and the
vans, Jack Wirta took a taxi over to Cedars-Sinai to see
Casimiro Roca. As the cab driver bounced through a construction zone south of
Pico, Jack's head felt like sun-rotted fruit about to explode. He silently
cursed everybody, especially his driver, who was a Greek. The name on the hack
license looked like it belonged on the Rosetta Stone. "Slow down," he
growled to the man, who replied "Ho-kay," but didn't.
When they arrived at the main entrance of Cedars, Jack felt like
he'd gone ten rounds with Lennox Lewis.
After a few minutes of wandering the polished, antiseptic halls of
the hospital he finally found himself outside of Miro's door. He pushed it open
and discovered the little ex-dancer reading
The Advocate.
When he looked
up, Jack winced. . . Miro's face had gone half purple with bruises. His swollen
eyes were greased with some kind of ointment and, as Susan had said, he'd lost
several teeth.
Jack moved into the room and sat next to the bed on an
institutional metal chair that sagged in the middle. He tried to ignore his own
symphony of aches and pains as he focused on Miro's damaged face.
"Are you using too much Maybelline blush, or is that actually
a bruise?" he said, trying to keep it light.
"I guess I got myself kinda stomped," Miro said.
"Those men . . . they came back."
"Yeah, I got it all from Susan. What you did for me. . .that
was something pretty special. I just wanted you to
know, if you
hadn't gotten that info about Black Star in Cleveland, I'd be opening at Forest
Lawn this weekend."
"That's what neighbors do for one another."
"Listen, Miro, neighbors just call the cops when the music is
too loud. What you did was heroic, man. We're buds for life. I owe you."