World at War. David T. Maddox
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just weren’t going according to the script.
“Dr. Bristol, where are the documents which you were subpoenaed to bring today?” asked Larry Jordan, an assistant United States attorney. “You must understand that both individually and as the representative of Harkins College, you have not simply been asked to produce documents, you have been commanded to produce them.”
“Hold on a minute, we object to the overbroad nature of the requests,” responded Professor Trice, who was acting as his counsel. “These records are covered by privacy rights of students.”
“I am going to have fun if you make that objection to the grand jury subpoena,” Jordan responded. “That objection is trash, and you of all people know that. I am prepared to call the judge this very minute, and you can make that argument. We want those records now. It is a matter of national security, life, and death. I suppose the next thing you will tell me is that this morning’s attempted killings of the children in Williams were really only the accidental discharge of a firearm.”
“Wait a minute,” Dr. Bristol insisted. “The terrorist attacks in Williams have nothing to do with Harkins students or faculty.”
“Dr. Bristol, I am not going to argue with you, but what do you think the president was trying to tell you confidentially? One of your students or faculty members was coordinating a major terrorist attack against the United States from your campus and was using your Graduate School of Education computer lab to communicate with conspirators. The whole plan appears to have been launched on your campus and is being carried out under the leadership of your graduates. You are the ones who chose to try and make this a political issue. It’s not. It’s a criminal issue — a national security emergency. We will not allow you to delay disclosure and make this a political circus.”
“You are way out of line,” Trice responded angrily. “You fools think you see a terrorist under every bed. This is nothing more than an attack on our Constitution and this institution, and you will not succeed. The American people won’t allow it.”
“Enough,” Jordan replied, equally angry. Turning to a staff lawyer, he said, “Jim, see if you can get the judge on the line. Tell him we have a significant documents issue in the middle of a deposition relating to national security.
“While we are waiting for the court to schedule us, let’s continue with the deposition. Dr. Bristol, other than Professor Trice, with whom did you discuss the possibility of filing this lawsuit?”
The question was met with silence. “In particular, I want to know with whom in Washington you discussed the possibility of filing this lawsuit before it was filed.”
“I am going to instruct you not to answer that question,” Trice stated with authority.
“Are you going to refuse to answer?” Jordan directed his response to Dr. Bristol, looking him directly in the eyes.
“I have to follow my lawyer’s advice,” Dr. Bristol coldly responded. “I decline to answer.”
“Fine, if that is the way you want it. Jim, advise the court that we want to discuss contempt and sanctions too. Dr. Trice, you know those instructions are a violation of the rules of civil procedure, which specifically prohibit such conduct unless the question seeks communications between an attorney and his client. Are you sure you don’t want to withdraw that instruction?”
Before Trice could answer, Jim announced, “The court is on the line. The judge will hear us now.”
“Great, put the phone in the middle of the table and set it on speaker,” Jordan responded.
“Good morning, your honor, sorry to interrupt your day,” Jordan began.
“No problem, Mr. Jordan,” Judge Hightower responded. “This is what I get paid to do. What is this about, a national security issue?”
A Different Way to Overcome
Chief Thompson agreed; the journal would remain private for some time, and Susan Stafford’s note would not be released until after the memorial service was completed.
“Thank you,” Sally Johnson said. “As important as this is, it shouldn’t divert attention from the memorial service. Those hurting people need this special time, and the national press is already all over it.”
“Someone needs to help me understand this,” Chief Thompson replied. “All that cold-blooded, calculated evil in every word, and then those experiences with supposed angels of light and darkness? I don’t get it. Suddenly, this killer is risking her life to protect others and claims to have found God. If it weren’t for the way she died and her refusal to blame anyone else or destroy the journal, I would write her off as another fraud trying to escape the consequences of what she did. But this letter and journal are not fake, that’s for sure, and she didn’t have to die this morning.”
“I’m with you, Chief,” Samson added. “There are a lot of people that are going to be asking those questions when this all becomes public.”
“Pete, we need to go. We have got to get a copy of this note to Pastor Scribes so that he and anyone else speaking this afternoon is informed about the shooter and don’t simply paint her as a hero.”
“Agreed… but in the end, wasn’t she a hero?”
As they left for College Church, the president had already been taken secretly to the church’s educational facility, where he surprised the waiting relatives of those injured and killed, along with many of the wounded who had been gathered in a large assembly room. He too was surprised when he encountered the smiling Tom Campy, still in a wheelchair, but miraculously recovering quickly. He was humbled by this man who had stood alone against the assault, and thankful that the millions of prayers for this courageous man had been answered. The Bookseller had told him of Tom’s invitation to the press conference that really launched the whole prayer movement — which was now greatly impacting the nation. “It is a wonder,” he thought, “how God uses simple acts of obedience which seem at the time to have no relevance to anything going on in the world. We have no concept of the plans of God or how He wants to use us.”
One by one, the president and Janet went to each person and family group, listening intently to their stories, seeking to comfort and encourage. There were tears and hugs, prayers and deep sighs. The president felt helpless seeking to fill the void, wishing he could somehow end the hurt and eliminate the pain. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.
There was, however, a wonderful moment of joy in the midst of the tears as he got to thank both Tom Campy and Sally Johnson, who had joined the group after giving a copy of the note to Pastor Scribes. He paused to thank Campy for his vision and courage, and Sally for her state of mind to react to the danger and preserve lives. Campy responded, “Oh no, Mr. President, it is you that God has given both vision and courage. I am praying for you.”
Humbled, the president thanked him and was then interrupted briefly by Pastor Scribes. “Mr. President, I apologize, but there is something I have to show you before the service,” and taking him aside, Pastor Scribes handed the president a copy of Susan’s note. The president was immediately stunned, but then asked, “Pastor, may I have this? I may want to refer to it in my comments.”
“Mr. President, this has not even been released to the press,” Pastor Scribes responded. “The police were going to hold it until after the service.”
“I don’t want to steal their thunder,” the president answered, “but this is really important to what we are doing today. Don’t you see? Even a serial killer can be changed by God.”
“I understand. It’s yours.”
After a pause, “Mr. President, it is about time to go in and begin the service.”
“Thank you.” Turning to the crowd of survivors, relatives, and loved ones, the president said, “Before we go into the service, will you join with Janet and I in a time of prayer?” Reaching for her hand and Tom Campy’s, the whole group spontaneously joined hands to pray. “Any of you who