The pervert's name was Darrel Sackett.
When last seen, he was thirty-seven years old and housed in a county jail awaiting a new trial on charges of molesting1 small children. He certainly looked guilty: long sloping forehead, vapid2 bug3 eyes enlarged by thick glasses, splotchy stubble from a week's growth, a thick scar stuck to his chin-the type of face that would alarm any parent, or anyone else for that matter. A career pedophile, he was first arrested at age sixteen. Many other arrests followed, and he'd been convicted at least four times in four different states.
Sackett, with his frightening face and disgusting rap sheet, was introduced to the registered voters of south Mississippi in a snazzy direct mailing from another new organization, this one calling itself Victims Rising. The two-page letter was both a bio of a pathetic criminal and a summary of the miserable5 failures of the judicial6 system.
"Why Is This Man Free?" the letter screamed. Answer: Because Justice Sheila McCarthy overturned his conviction on sixteen counts of child molestation7. Eight years earlier, a jury convicted Sackett, and the judge sentenced him to life without parole. His lawyer-one paid by taxpayers-appealed his case to the supreme8 court, and "there Darrel Sackett found the sympathetic embrace of Justice Sheila McCarthy." McCarthy condemned9 the honest and hardworking detectives who extracted a full confession10 from Sackett. She chastised11 them for what she saw as their faulty search-and-seizure methods. She hammered the trial judge, who was highly respected and tough on crime, for admitting into evidence the confession and materials taken from Sackett's apartment. (The jury was visibly shaken when forced to view Sackett's stash12 of child porn, seized by the cops during a "valid13" search.) She claimed distaste for the defendant14, but begged off by saying that she had no choice but to reverse his conviction and send his case back for a new trial.
Sackett was moved from the state prison back to the Lauderdale County jail, where he escaped one week later. He had not been heard from since. He was out there, "a free man," no doubt continuing his violence against innocent children.
The last paragraph ended with the usual rant15 against liberal judges. The fine print gave the standard approval by Ron Fisk.
Certain relevant facts were conveniently omitted. First, the court voted 8 to 1 to reverse the Sackett conviction and send it back for a new trial. The actions of the police were so egregious16 that four other justices wrote concurring17 opinions that were even more scathing18 in their condemnation19 of the forced confession and warrantless, unconstitutional search. The lone20 dissenter21, Justice Romano, was a misguided soul who had never voted to reverse a criminal conviction, and privately22 vowed24 that he would never do so.
Second, Sackett was dead. Four years earlier he'd been killed in a bar fight in Alaska.
The news of his passing barely made it to Mississippi, and when his file was retired25 in Lauderdale County, not a single reporter noticed. Barry Rinehart's exhaustive research discovered the truth, for what little it mattered.
The Fisk campaign was far beyond the truth now. The candidate was too busy to sweat the details, and he had placed his complete trust in Tony Zachary. The race had become a crusade, a calling of the highest order, and if facts were slightly bent27 or even ignored, then it was justified28 because of the importance of his candidacy. Besides, it was politics, a dirty game, and you could rest assured the other side wasn't playing fair, either.
Barry Rinehart had never been shackled29 by the truth. His only concern was not getting caught in his lies. If a madman like Darrel Sackett was out there, on the loose, very much alive and doing his filthy30 deeds, then his story was more shocking. A dead Sackett was a pleasant thought, but Rinehart preferred the power of fear. And he knew that McCarthy couldn't respond. She had reversed his conviction, plain and simple.
Any effort to explain why would be futile31 in the world of thirty-second ads and snappy sound bites.
After the shock of the ad, she would try to erase32 Sackett from her mind.
After the shock, though, she had to at least revisit the case. She saw the ad online, at the Victims Rising Web site, after receiving a frantic33 call from Nat Lester. Paul, her clerk, found the reported case, and they read it in silence. She vaguely34 remembered it. In the eight years since, she had read a thousand briefs and written hundreds of opinions.
"You got it right," Paul said when he finished.
"Yes, but why does it look so wrong now?" she said. She'd been hard at work, her desk covered with memos35 from half a dozen cases. She was stunned36, bewildered.
He didn't answer.
"I wonder what's next," she said, closing her eyes.
"Probably a death penalty case. And they'll cherry-pick the facts again.”
"Thanks. Anything else?”
"Sure. There's lots of material in these books. You're a judge. Every time you make a decision someone loses. These guys don't care about the truth, so they can make anything sound bad.”
"Please shut up.”
Her first ads began, and they lightened the mood somewhat. Nat chose to begin with a straightforward37 piece with Sheila in a black robe sitting at the bench, smiling earnestly at the camera. She talked about her experience-eight years as a trial judge in Harrison County, nine years on the supreme court. She hated to pat her own back, but twice in the past five years she had received the highest rating in the state bar's annual review of all appellate judges. She was not a liberal judge, nor a conservative one. She refused to be labeled. Her commitment was simply to follow the laws of Mississippi, not to make new ones. The best judges are those without agendas, without preconceived notions of how they might rule. The best judges are those with experience. Neither of her opponents had ever presided over a trial, or issued a ruling, or studied complicated briefs, or listened to oral arguments, or written a final opinion. Until now, neither of her opponents had shown the slightest interest in sitting as a judge. Yet they are asking the voters to jump-start their judicial careers at the very top. She finished by saying, without the smile, "I was appointed to this position by the governor nine years ago, then I was reelected by you, the people. I am a judge, not a politician, and I don't have the money that some are spending to purchase this seat. I ask you, the voters, to help send the message that a seat on the Mississippi Supreme Court cannot be bought by big business. Thank you.”
Nat spent little money at the Jackson stations and much more on the Coast. McCarthy would never be able to saturate38 like Fisk. Nat speculated that Fisk and all those wealthy folks behind him were burning $200,000 a week on the anti-gay-marriage ads alone.
Sheila's first round was about half of that, and the response was lukewarm. The ad was called "uncreative" by her coordinator39 in Jackson County. A noisy trial lawyer, no doubt an expert in all things political, sent an angry e-mail in which he blasted Nat for such a soft approach. You gotta fight fire with fire and answer the attack ads with more of the same. He reminded Nat that his firm had contributed $30,000 and might forgo40 any more if McCarthy didn't take off the gloves.
Women seemed to like the ad. Men were more critical. After reading a few dozen e-mails, Nat realized he was wasting his time.
Barry Rinehart had been waiting impatiently for some television from the McCarthy strategists. When he finally saw her first ad, he laughed out loud. What an old-fashioned, out-of-date, pathetically lame41 effort--judge in black robe, at a bench, thick law books as props42, even a gavel for good measure. She looked sincere, but she was a judge, not a television presence. Her eyes moved as she read from the teleprompter.
Her head was as rigid43 as a deer in headlights.
A weak response indeed, but it had to be answered. It had to be buried. Rinehart reached into his video library, his arsenal44, and selected his next grenade.
Ten hours after McCarthy began running her ad, she was blown off the television by an attack ad that stunned even the most jaded45 political junkies. It began with the sharp crack of a rifle shot, then a black-and-white photo of Justice McCarthy, one from the court's official Web site. A powerful, barbed voice announced, "Justice Sheila McCarthy does not like hunters. Seven years ago she wrote, “The hunters of this state have a poor record on safety' This quote was splashed across her face.
The photo changed to one from a newspaper story with Sheila shaking hands at a rally.
The voice continued, "And Justice Sheila McCarthy does not like gun owners. Five years ago she wrote, “The ever vigilant46 gun lobby can always be expected to attack any statute47 that might in any way restrict the use of handguns in vulnerable areas.
Regardless of how sensible a proposed statute might be, the gun lobby will descend48 upon it with a vengeance49.”This, too, was printed rapidly, word for word, across the screen. Then there was another blast, this one from a shotgun firing at a blue sky.
Ron Fisk appeared, decked out like the real hunter he was. He lowered his shotgun and chatted with the voters for a few seconds. Memories of his grandfather, hunting in these woods as a child, love of nature, a vow23 to protect the sacred rights of hunters and gun owners. It ended with Ron walking along the edge of the woods, a pack of frisky50 dogs behind him.
Some small, quick print at the end of the ad gave credit to an organization called Gunowners United Now (GUN). The truth: The first case mentioned in the ad involved the accidental shooting death of a deer hunter. His widow sued the man who shot him, a nasty trial ensued, and the jury in Calhoun County awarded her $600,000, the highest ever in that courtroom. The trial was as sordid51 as a divorce, with allegations of drinking and pot smoking and bad behavior. The two men were members of a hunting club and had been at deer camp for a week. During the trial, a contentious52 issue was safety, and several experts testified about gun laws and hunter education. Though the evidence was hotly disputed, it appeared, from the record, that the bulk of the testimony53 proved that the state's record on safety lagged behind others'.
In the second case, the City of Tupelo, in response to a schoolyard shooting that killed none but injured four, passed an ordinance54 banning the possession of a firearm within a hundred yards of any public school. Gun advocates sued, and the American Rifle Association wedged itself into the picture by filing a portentous55 and overblown friend-of-the-court brief. The court struck down the ordinance on Second Amendment56 grounds, but Sheila dissented57. In doing so, she couldn't resist the temptation to take a swipe at the ARA.
Now the swipe was back. She watched Fisk's latest ad in her office, alone and with the sinking feeling that her chances were fading. On the stump58, she had the time to explain her votes and point out the unfairness of taking her words out of context.
But on television, she had thirty seconds. It was impossible, and the clever handlers of Ron Fisk knew it.
After a month at Pirate's Cove26, Clete Coley had overstayed his welcome. The owner was fed up with giving away a penthouse suite59, and he was fed up with feeding Coley's astounding60 appetite. The candidate was getting three meals a day, many of them sent to his room. At the blackjack tables, he drank rum like it was water and got hammered every night. He badgered the dealers61, insulted the other players, and groped the cocktail63 waitresses. The casino had pocketed about $20,000 from Coley, but his expenses were at least that much.
Marlin found him at the bar early one evening, having a drink and limbering up for another long night at the tables. After small talk, Marlin cut to the chase. "We'd like for you to drop out of the race," he said. "And while you're leaving, endorse64 Ron Fisk.”
Clete's eyes narrowed. Deep wrinkles tightened65 around his forehead. "Say what?”
"You heard me.”
"I'm not so sure I did.”
"We're asking you to withdraw and endorse Fisk. It's simple.”
Coley gulped66 the rum without taking his eyes off Marlin. "Keep talking," he said.
"There's not much to say. You're a long shot, to put it mildly. You've done a good job of stirring things up, attacking McCarthy, but it's time to bail67 out and help elect Fisk.”
"What if I don't like Fisk?”
"I'm sure he doesn't like you. It's immaterial. The party's over. You've had your jollies, gotten some headlines, met lots of interesting folks along the way, but you've made your last speech.”
"The ballots68 have been printed. My name is on them.”
"That means that a handful of your fans won't hear the news. Big deal.”
Another long pull on the rum, and Coley said, "Okay, a hundred thousand to get in, how much to get out?”
"Fifty.”
He shook his head and glanced at the blackjack tables in the distance. "That's not enough.”
"I'm not here to negotiate. It's fifty thousand cash. Same suitcase as before, just not as heavy.”
"Sorry. My figure is a hundred.”
"I'll be here tomorrow, same time, same place." And with that, Marlin disappeared.
At nine the next morning, two FBI agents banged on the door to the penthouse suite.
Eventually, Clete staggered to the door and demanded, "Who the hell is it?”
"FBI. Open up.”
Clete cracked the door and peered over the chain. Twins. Dark suits. Same barber.
"What do you want?”
"We'd like to ask you some questions, and we prefer not to do it from this side of the door.”
Clete opened it and waved them in. He was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of NBA-style shorts that fell to his knees and sagged69 halfway70 down his ass4. As he watched them sit at the small dining table, he racked his muddled71 brain for some recollection of which law he'd broken. Nothing recent sprang to mind, but then nothing would at this miserable time of the day. He maneuvered72 his cumbersome73 stomach-how much weight had he gained in the last month?-into a chair and glanced at their badges.
"Does the name Mick Runyun ring a bell?" one asked.
It did, but he wasn't ready to admit anything. "Maybe.”
"Meth dealer62. You represented him three years ago in federal court. Pled to ten years, cooperated with the government, real nice boy.”
"Oh, that Mick Runyun.”
"Yes, that one. Did he pay you a fee?”
"My records are at the office in Natchez.”
"Great. We have a warrant for them. Can we meet there tomorrow?”
"Love to.”
"Anyway, we're betting that your records don't tell us too much about the fees paid by Mr. Runyun. We have a real good source telling us that he paid you in cash, twenty thousand bucks74, and that this was never reported.”
"Do tell.”
"And if this is true, then it's a violation75 of RICO and a few other federal statutes76.”
"Good ole RICO. You boys wouldn't be in business without it.”
"What time tomorrow?”
"I was planning on campaigning tomorrow. The election is in two weeks.”
They looked at this bleary-eyed, wild-haired, hungover beast and found it comical that he was a candidate for the supreme court.
"We'll be at your office in Natchez at noon tomorrow. If you don't show| then we'll have a warrant for your arrest. That should impress the voters.”
They marched out of the room and slammed the door behind them.
Late that afternoon, Marlin appeared, as promised. He ordered coffee, which he didn't touch. Clete ordered rum and soda77 and smelled as though it was not the first one of the day.
"Can we agree on fifty, Clete?" Marlin asked after a long spell of gazing at the cocktail waitresses scurrying78 about.
"I'm still thinking.”
"Were those two Fibbies nice to you this morning?”
Clete absorbed this without a flinch79, without the slightest twitch80 to indicate his surprise. In fact, he wasn't surprised at all. "Nice boys," he said. "The way I figure it, Senator Rudd is meddling81 again. He wants Fisk to win because they're from the same tribe. Of course we know that Rudd is the uncle of the U.S. attorney down here, a real imbecile who got the job only because of his connections. Damned sure couldn't find a job anywhere else. Rudd leans on his nephew, who brings in the FBI to twist my arm. I drop out while singing the praises of Ron Fisk, and he squeaks82 out a great victory. He's happy. Rudd's happy. Big business is happy. Ain't life grand?”
"You're very close," Marlin said. "And you also took a $20,000 cash fee from a drug dealer and didn't report it. Pretty stupid, but not the end of the world. Nothing that can't be fixed83 by The Senator. You play along now, take your cash, bow out gracefully84, and you'll never hear from the Fibbies again. Case closed.”
Clete's red eyes settled on Marlin's blue ones. "You swear?”
"I swear. We shake hands now, you can forget the meeting at noon tomorrow in Natchez.”
"Where's the money?”
"Outside, to the right. Same green Mustang." Marlin gently laid his keys on the bar.
Clete grabbed them and disappeared.
收听单词发音 |
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molesting
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| v.骚扰( molest的现在分词 )；干扰；调戏；猥亵 | |
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vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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molestation
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| n.骚扰，干扰，调戏；折磨 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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chastised
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| v.严惩（某人）（尤指责打）( chastise的过去式 ) | |
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stash
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| v.藏或贮存于一秘密处所；n.隐藏处 | |
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valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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defendant
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| n.被告；adj.处于被告地位的 | |
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rant
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| v.咆哮；怒吼；n.大话；粗野的话 | |
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egregious
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| adj.非常的，过分的 | |
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concurring
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| 同时发生的，并发的 | |
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scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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dissenter
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| n.反对者 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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shackled
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| 给（某人）带上手铐或脚镣( shackle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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erase
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| v.擦掉；消除某事物的痕迹 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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memos
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| n.备忘录( memo的名词复数 )；（美）内部通知 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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saturate
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| vt.使湿透，浸透；使充满，使饱和 | |
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coordinator
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| n.协调人 | |
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forgo
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| v.放弃，抛弃 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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statute
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| n.成文法，法令，法规；章程，规则，条例 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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frisky
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| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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contentious
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| adj.好辩的，善争吵的 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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ordinance
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| n.法令；条令；条例 | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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amendment
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| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
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dissented
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| 不同意，持异议( dissent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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endorse
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| vt.(支票、汇票等)背书，背署；批注；同意 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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66
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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67
bail
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| v.舀（水），保释；n.保证金，保释，保释人 | |
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68
ballots
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| n.投票表决( ballot的名词复数 )；选举；选票；投票总数v.（使）投票表决( ballot的第三人称单数 ) | |
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69
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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70
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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71
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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72
maneuvered
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵 | |
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73
cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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74
bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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statutes
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| 成文法( statute的名词复数 )； 法令； 法规； 章程 | |
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77
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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78
scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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79
flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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80
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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81
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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82
squeaks
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| n.短促的尖叫声，吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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83
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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