Miss Buddha (84 page)

“Secondly, you, as jury, must carefully
consider two things: Did the defendant’s action result in the
circumstances and results claimed by the prosecution. And, if so,
did the defendant intend to bring about these circumstances and
results.

“You must, in other words, establish both
effect and intent. Unintended effects, can, naturally, have been
caused by the defendant’s actions. It is important that you
determine, to the best of your ability any such intent.

“Thirdly, if, after a consideration of all
of the evidence you conclude that the prosecution has failed to
prove beyond a reasonable doubt any of the elements of the offenses
charged, you must find the defendant not guilty.

“If, however, after considering all of the
evidence, you conclude that the prosecution has proven every
element of the offense charged beyond a reasonable doubt then you
must find the defendant guilty.

“Lastly, if found guilty, you may recommend
a commensurate jail sentence, up to a sentence of life without the
possibility of parole, which is the sentence sought by the
prosecution.

“Should you have any questions over and
above what you have been handed individually, and over and above
what I have just said, you must put such questions in writing and
give it to my clerk.

“And good luck to you.”

:

The jury sat for precisely forty-tree
minutes. The foreman then rang for the clerk and handed him the
jury’s decision.

Within five minutes, Judge Moore had called
the jury back in.

“Foreman of the jury, have you reached a
verdict?” she asked.

“Yes, we have, your honor.”

“What is your verdict?”

“As to Inciting to Public Unrest, we find
the defendant not guilty. As to Inciting to Public Disobedience, we
find the defendant not guilty.”

There was no denying that Judge Moore
actually smiled as she dismissed the jury, “Ladies and Gentlemen of
the jury. The court thanks you for your swift resolution and
verdict.”

And then smiled again as she addressed the
defendant, “Ruth Marten, you are acquitted of all charges, and you
are free to go.”

Ruth Marten returned the smile as she said,
both aloud and within Judge Moore’s private universe: “Thank you,
your honor.”

:

Every network in the world led with the
acquittal story.

::
137 :: (Los Angeles)

Yet another conference room,
another conference. This one takes place in Los Angeles. It is
about eight o’clock in the morning the day after the verdict in the
Ruth Marten trial. It is the 21
^st
of August, a
Wednesday.

In attendance: the same
three individuals who met on the 2
^nd
of May in New York City: Otto
Jones, fresh off the trial and its disastrous outcome; Andrew
Callahan, FBI’s Los Angeles Bureau Chief; and Meredith
Simmons,
Biotechnical Industry
Association
in-house counsel.

Neither has slept. All three are well versed
with the media storm already at full strength.

“I was to understand, as were my employer,”
said Simmons, “that the outcome of this trial was a foregone
conclusion. That by now all our problems would be solved.”

She was addressing Otto Jones, who would not
meet her gaze. In fact, he even refused to answer.

“You are appealing,” said Callahan, stating
the obvious.

“That’s our problem,” said
Simmons. “With such a quick, and unanimous, jury verdict, I don’t
see the Appellate Court overturning this. Besides, we’re talking
months for an appeal. Months before the 9
^th
Circuit will hear this. In
fact, there are some who suggest that we don’t even file an appeal.
That an appeal will just garner more media and if the verdict
stands, well, that’s another handful of nails in our respective
coffins.”

“No one saw this coming,” said Jones. “No
one.”

“Well, you should have,” said Simmons. With
teeth.

Jones said nothing.

“I have received another request,” said
Callahan, addressing Simmons. “From your boss.”

“I know,” said Simmons.

“Are you serious?” said Jones. “You’ve
failed, twice. Or is it three times?”

“Bottom line,” said Callahan. “She cannot be
allowed to keep this up. Exonerated, like this, she will carry more
weight. It is a disaster to end all disasters.”

Simmons nodded her agreement. Could not have
been worse.

“There is far too much attention now,” said
Jones. “Any attempt on her life will draw intense media scrutiny.
It could backfire beyond repair.”

“We’re already beyond repair,” Simmons
pointed out, thanks to Jones.

Callahan, who now had no further doubts as
to why he was there, said, “We’ll need a month at least. It will
have to be meticulously planned, and can only involve our most
trusted.”

“We don’t have a month,” said Simmons. “A
week, at best.”

“You are not serious,” said Jones.

“I am completely serious,” said Simmons.

“It cannot be done in a week,” said
Callahan.

“Then we’ll find someone
who
can
do it in a
week,” said Simmons.

Callahan had gotten to where he had gotten
mostly due to his reputation as the Los Angeles go-to guy in all
sorts of situations. Failure to step up now and be counted would
have serious career repercussions, he knew that. Still.

“Two weeks?” he said.

“One week,” said Simmons.

Callahan heard himself agreeing. “Okay, one
week.”

“And no screw-ups this time,” said
Simmons.

“You are not serious,” said Jones.

“One week,” said Simmons.

“One week,” said Callahan.

:

George Roth not only predicted that this
meeting would take place, he also had a pretty good idea where it
would take place. Based on his analysis, it would take place in any
one of three locations, and he had all three covered both with
hyper-sensitive long-distance microphones and very good photo-video
lenses.

He had chosen to man the most likely spot
himself: a forty-third floor corner room in a Century City
high-rise. It was a little known fact that the Bureau owned the
entire floor, and this particular corner room was set aside
exclusively for unofficial high level conferences such as
these.

Roth being the predictor of events that he
was had guessed right.

From a nearby roof, and even across a
distance of five hundred feet, his microphones nonetheless picked
up the voice reverberations in the glass panes surrounding those
talking, and so managed to record a faithful rendition of the
proceedings, each person clearly identifiable, while the high-power
lens faithfully recorded a serviceable high definition video of the
three attendees in conference.

As evidence went, this was as damning as it
came.

::
138 :: (Los Angeles)

George Roth leaked the video and sound
recording of the FBI/Pharma conference to the major networks, all
of whom led the evening news with the story.

Watching the coverage, Ananda Wolf hovered
somewhere between immense relief and horror at the thought.

This particular broadcast began with the
footage of Ruth Marten in Berlin, standing up the one moment and
the next prone on the stage. “This attempt,” the voice-over said,
“was obviously also orchestrated by the FBI and BIA collusion.” The
next sound-bite being what amounted to a clear admission from the
recorded conference: “Or as Otto Jones put it: ‘You’ve failed,
twice. Or is it three times?’ Clearly, the U.S. Government is
involved in attempts to assassinate Ruth Marten. Clearly the FBI
has made several attempts, and clearly, the pharmaceutical giant
BIA is pulling some sort of strings to make Uncle Sam jump so
quickly—and clumsily.”

George Roth, who was visiting, afforded
himself a smile. “Pretty darn good, if I may say so myself.”

“But,” said Melissa, ever the mother. “Do
you think that this will make them back off?”

“First,” said Roth. “We’ll see the fallout
in terms of dismissals. My guess is that this will go all the way
to the head of the service. It will also involve a serious
congressional inquiry into the extent to which Big Pharma is
calling the Washington shots. After that, it would be easier to
assess the likelihood of other attempts. My guess, though—my
gut-feeling—is that we’ll see no more of this. Ruth’s profile is
now far too high, the Government’s and Pharma’s involvement far too
known.”

“I wish I could take that to the bank,” said
Melissa.

“I think you can,” said Ruth.

The next report again played the highlights
from the videoed meeting, again referring to the source as
“unnamed.”

Ananda turned to Roth, “I don’t think we can
thank you enough,” he said.

“My pleasure,” said Roth. “I am very glad to
have been of service.”

“Invaluable service,” confirmed Ruth.

::
139 :: (Pasadena)

Seeing Ananda smile again warms my heart.
Then he notices me noticing and he looks down, as if embarrassed to
be caught in such a personal act.

Then he looks up again, still smiling.
Relaxing, finally.

Though he will, on some level, still worry
about me—that seems to be part of his very makeup—I see that he,
too, believes all will be okay now.

I look over at George Roth, who certainly
has good reason to seem pleased with himself. Truth is, I cannot
thank him enough, and I will do all I can to help him along the
path.

Melissa, my mother, seems asleep, leaning
back into the sofa cushion and closing her eyes. But she’s not
asleep, she’s more like waking up from a dark dream, finally over.
She senses me looking at her and opens her eyes. And just like
Ananda, smiles.

On the television some other channel is
replaying George’s clever recording and I can hear a call for
independent investigations and several resignations. True, I have
not made friends in some very high places, but we have also flushed
the enemy to enlightenment out into the open, for all to see.

It seems, and every cell in my body sings
the same tune, that my mission will succeed.

::
140 :: (USC)

The world economy is a resilient creature.
Yes, demand for luxury goods has dropped dramatically and continues
to fall. But new industries burgeon. The call for healthier food,
simpler clothing and furniture is rising, and many manufacturers
are all too happy to oblige.

Even the larger pharmaceutical companies are
seeing some sort of writing on some sort of wall and have begun to
shift their research and production capacities toward vitamins and
other food supplements: the customer is, after all, Kind and Queen
in this game of supply and demand, and the world is responding
accordingly.

The public’s disobedience, its refusal to
clamor for more and more and more did not bring the world to its
knees, but seems to have infused it with a new, cleaner life.

Ruth Marten provides a brief overview of
this during her USC morning lecture, to applause.

At the end of the lecture, she again invites
questions and the first one—from a young post-graduate woman—is the
one question she has always refused to answer.

“Miss Marten. I know I should probably not
ask this, but I feel I must: Are you the Buddha returned?”

Ruth smiles, and finally does answer that
question.

::

Part Four — Thesis

Thesis:

Science, Philosophy, and Religion —

Shared Ground, Shared Goal

by Ruth Marten

:: One Truth ::

Ultimately, there is only one truth. There
cannot be two, or many, ultimate truths. Things are, and came to be
a certain way; and the truth about how existence arrived at this
moment is singular: it is the way existence arrived here, proven by
the plain fact that it has indeed arrived precisely here.

There can only be one single way that
things—no matter how complex or complicated they may appear—came to
be and now are.

True, there are many views on that subject
as well: are things? Do they exist or are we just imagining them in
a narcissistic universe where we perceive nothing but our own
dreams? Some see it that way.

I maintain, however—as do most
observers—that things do exist; objectively (un-interpreted) as
well as subjectively (interpreted).

And these many things that are, they are a
certain way; by reason of existing they exist the way they exist
and no other way.

Things are not two certain ways. They are a
single certain way. And they arrived at their current state of
being by a certain series of events, by a certain path, a certain
way, not via two, or three, or four certain ways, but one certain
way—and here I place profound stress on the two words “certain” and
“way.”

Reality, as we perceive it, consists, among
other things, of bodies and blood and stars and skylarks and grass
and hastily assembled tables and ice cream and painted fingernails.
We perceive these things and we say that they are. And they are a
certain way.

Perhaps we
do
dream them in some
vast communal slumber, but if that is the case, then that is the
way things are. Or perhaps a Capital-G God created all things,
well, if that is the case then that is precisely the single certain
way they came to be. Or perhaps all things are conjured by a man
named Thornton in Philadelphia, and if so, well, that is the one
certain lay of the land.