The Judge Who Stole Christmas (24 page)

After lunch, Judge Baker-Kline called her law clerk into her office. She handed the clerk a medium-sized box wrapped in brightly colored paper decorated with pictures of the Grinch, his heart bursting from his chest. The judge had written the name of Santana Kringle on the outside but no indication of whom the present was from. It was the same paper she had used for the gift she gave the clerk earlier that morning.

“I've got one more thing I'd like for you to do today, and then you can get an early start on the weekend,” Judge Baker-Kline said. She had plans to stay until the Fourth Circuit opinion came down, but she would rather face it alone.

“Okay.”

The judge handed the box to the clerk. “Could you take this to the jail? Make sure Mr. Kringle gets it when he leaves.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the clerk said. The judge could see the curiosity in the young girl's eyes, but politeness won out. “Anything else?” the clerk asked.

“No. That's it.”

The clerk hesitated for a moment, apparently unsure of whether she should say anything about the upcoming Fourth Circuit's decision. “Merry Christmas, Judge. Have a great weekend.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Judge Baker-Kline bent over her papers and went back to work, thinking about how warm Santana would be in his new wool jacket.

Jasmine worried herself sick all afternoon. She skipped lunch, drove to her apartment in Virginia Beach, and weighed the scenarios—what to do if they won, what to do if they lost. She ignored phone calls and waited alone in her apartment, surfing the Internet and listening to Fox News. She wanted to digest the opinion alone, giving herself time to collect her thoughts before she sprang into action. Theresa was at the jail with Bernice's cell phone—waiting along with Thomas for a phone call from Jasmine.

Jasmine went to the Fourth Circuit site a few minutes before five, just in case, and then double-clicked on the icon for
Today's Opinions
. It loaded slowly, unusual for Jasmine's DSL line. She double-clicked again and got an error message. Frustrated, she tried a third time. Another error message!

Argh!
It was now 4:59. The opinion was either out or coming out, she had a client relying on her, and for some reason she couldn't access the site. She tried again. No luck. The heavy traffic from those who wanted to download the opinion must have crashed the site.

She picked up her cell and dialed Arginot. A recording. She cursed at her laptop. Then a Fox News reporter announced a breaking story.

She turned up the television and considered the irony. Here she was, counsel of record, learning the result just like every other American.

“Fox News has just learned that a sharply divided three-judge panel for the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals has affirmed the order of District Judge Cynthia Baker-Kline. It appears that the man who has become known as the ‘Crèche Crusader' will spend Christmas Day in jail.”

Jasmine's heart dropped to her knees. She thought she was prepared for this, but her emotions started running away with her. She tried the Web site again. When it wouldn't load, she slammed her fist on the desk.
Is this justice?
she demanded of no one. They flashed some segments of the Fourth Circuit opinion on the screen, and Jasmine found herself seething at Judge Baker-Kline. How could the Fourth Circuit let her get away with this?

She flicked channels to see if she could learn more about the opinion. A CNN reporter was interviewing an attorney who babbled on about the precedent of the ruling. CBS was still running its regularly scheduled programming. But the ABC channel had interrupted for a special report—the reporter was actually interviewing Arginot on the steps of the courthouse. Arginot must have been waiting there so he'd look like a real lawyer for the television cameras.

“We'll appeal,” Arginot promised. “We all knew that the Supreme Court would ultimately have to make this call. This is one battle, not the war.”

“How quickly do you think the Supreme Court will rule?” a reporter asked.

“We can't say for sure.” Arginot looked directly into the camera, the composure oozing from his tailored suit and overcoat. “But we're hoping for a Christmas miracle.”

Jasmine scoffed and dialed her mom's cell phone number. She hated this part.

“Hello,” Theresa Hammond said.

“We lost,” Jasmine said. Dead silence filled the line. “I'm on my way over. We'll talk when I get there.”

“Okay.” Theresa's voice was thin, fragile. “I'll tell Thomas.”

Thomas and Theresa listened intently as Jasmine explained the nuances of the opinion she had finally retrieved from the Fox News Web site. Theresa seemed close to tears, but Thomas showed no emotion. “I really wish the town had filed an expedited appeal along with us,” Jasmine said. “The court took great pains to say, in a footnote, that this opinion did not mean the Fourth Circuit was affirming Baker-Kline's rulings against the town's manger scene display. In fact, let me read you their exact language.” Jasmine thumbed through a few pages.

“Today's opinion is limited to the issue of whether Mr. Hammond had a constitutionally protected right to erect his own manger scene, with no other symbols of the Christmas holiday, on the town square. This opinion does not address whether the town's prior displays were constitutional or not. It would appear to this court on first blush that the secular nature of the town's Operation Xmas Spirit display is equivalent to the display upheld by the Supreme Court in
Lynch v. Donnelly
. But the town did not request an expedited appeal, and this court does not give advisory opinions. Resolution of the constitutionality of the town's displays will be decided on another day, after full briefing and argument before the court.”

Jasmine stopped reading and looked into the puzzled eyes of her clients.

“What's that mean?” Thomas asked.

“It's the way appellate courts drop major hints,” Jasmine explained. “They're basically saying that Judge Baker-Kline was right to hold you in contempt because she couldn't allow someone to display a manger scene all by itself, especially if he hadn't followed the right permitting procedures. But they're also saying that when the town appeals, we can probably expect a different result, since the town's displays had a variety of Christmas symbols in addition to the manger.”

“Can we appeal to the Supreme Court?” Theresa asked.

Jasmine hesitated. “Typically, you would appeal a decision of a three-judge panel to the Fourth Circuit sitting
en banc
—” Her clients looked confused. “That's all eleven judges of the Fourth Circuit sitting together,” she explained. “But given the time constraints, Arginot wants to go directly to the Supreme Court. The problem is this: even if they decide to hear the case—and that's no guarantee—I just don't see any way we could get a ruling before Christmas.”

At this news Theresa teared up and Thomas put his hand on top of hers. “Do you think we'll win if we appeal to them?” he asked.

“We might win. But the odds are against us. And if we lose, we establish a bad precedent for the whole country, not just the Fourth Circuit.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Theresa asked.

“I think we should appeal,” Jasmine said. “I just want you to know the downside.”

“But you think the town's appeal, whenever that is heard, has a pretty good chance?” Thomas asked.

“Yes.”

“So they could establish some good law in this same court . . . in this same circuit or whatever.”

“Right.”

“And maybe go up to the Supreme Court and establish some good law for the whole country?”

“It's possible,” Jasmine said. “But there's never a guarantee that the Supreme Court will even take the case.”

Thomas thought about this for a moment. “It seems obvious to me,” he said. “We don't appeal. I serve my time through Christmas, and then we let the town appeal instead. They've got the strongest case—right?”

“Yes,” Jasmine answered. “But they've . . .” She trailed off. How could she diplomatically explain that the town had the weakest attorney? “It's not either/or, Thomas. I think we should both appeal. We'll get two bites at the apple.”

“But you said yourself we might establish some bad law.”

“Yes, but—”

“I'm not interested in establishing any more bad law,” Thomas said, squaring up his jaw. “I've seen what the courts think about Christmas. And I think I've made my point. We aren't going to appeal any further.”

Jasmine didn't know what to say. Theresa stared at the table, and Thomas put on his stubborn mule face. “Okay,” Jasmine said. “Why don't you sleep on it tonight? If you still feel that way in the morning, we won't appeal.”

Thomas shook his head. “I don't need to sleep on it, Jasmine. You've done your level best. And I, for one, appreciate it. But we ain't gonna appeal.”

Jasmine turned to Theresa. “You agree?”

She squeezed her husband's hand and nodded.

“Okay,” Jasmine said. “I'll call Arginot and let him tell the world.”

“Good,” Thomas said. The three of them sat there in silence for a few moments, letting the finality of their loss hit home.

“It seems like such a shame,” Theresa said.

And they all nodded in silent agreement.

CHRISTMAS EVE

Theresa opened her eyes and knew she wouldn't be going back to sleep. She awoke with that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, the loneliness of missing Thomas. Still, she couldn't resist a small smile when she noticed the furry little ball curled up next to her in bed.

The first few nights King had slept in the crate, but he was a world-class whiner, and Theresa didn't have the heart to ignore the puppy's crying. On night three, Theresa allowed King to sleep in the bed with her, placing a rawhide bone by her feet, which King chewed on until he dozed off. Last night, she had done the same thing, but somehow the little bugger had migrated up to the top of the bed and made a comfy home on Thomas's pillow.

Theresa reached over and scratched King behind his ears. “Don't get too comfortable there. One more night and that pillow will be spoken for.”

As she took King outside to do his business, Theresa reflected on all that faced her the rest of the day. She and Thomas had talked last night and agreed on a plan. Thomas had insisted that they not come see him today. Theresa could bring the kids to the jail on Christmas, but Christmas Eve would go on as it always did. Following the Hammond family traditions would be important to the kids, especially now. Thomas said it would send a message: all the federal judges in the world couldn't keep Christmas from coming or the Hammond family from celebrating it.

Theresa wasn't interested in sending messages. She just wanted the kids to be happy. She just wanted to
survive
Christmas.

When the kids woke up, they would eat breakfast, dress warmly, go to church, and then go with Theresa to pick out their Charlie Brown Christmas tree. This tradition started two years ago, on Christmas Eve, when the family walked by the rejected trees in the Food Lion parking lot. Softhearted Hannah started feeling sorry for the trees and wondered what would happen to them if nobody picked them. Though they already had one tree, she talked her daddy into rescuing another one—the sorriest-looking tree on the lot. They put it in their already-cramped living room next to the first tree and decorated it with a few candy canes. You had to turn sideways to walk through the room.