Time Bomb Town - Chapter Two

Dalton was sitting in his “History 210, America in the 20th Century” class. He had showered, shaved and changed into blue jeans and a collared shirt. He was wearing understated but necessary eye-glasses. Listening intently to the lecture, he was taking careful notes. 

Teaching the class was an attractive woman in her thirties. Dr. Jaymee Wood.

“...which led the way for the 18th amendment to be repealed by the 21st amendment. A constitutional first and so far a unique event in our nation's history. So... what? Let's hear it. Did any of you do the reading? What were some factors that lead to the failure of prohibition?”

A shaggy student in the back raised his hand. “People like to get hammered.”

Slight laughter filled the classroom. Dr. Wood smiled. “How astute.” She looked around. A serious-looking female student raised her hand.

“The Temperance movement attempted to legislate morality for the masses and that just doesn't work. People can't decide morality for other people.”

Dr. Wood cocked her head. “So, Shelly, you would say the policy failed because...?”

Shelly tapped her teeth with her pen, “Because the Constitution isn't supposed to tell us what is right and wrong, but only to govern the safe and harmonious interaction of members of society.”

“Way to quote the textbook,” muttered Dalton. A student to his left snickered and Dalton smiled at her.

Dr. Wood sat down on the front of her desk. “Well said, Shelly. Some people would like to look at our system of laws as based on morality or Judeo-Christian principles, but in fact our laws are not about morality at all. When they try to legislate morality, such as in prohibition or in the current drug war, they backfire and end up creating a black market.”

“Before I state that I find that idea to be utterly absurd and this textbook to be incredibly biased, I'm curious about your grading policy. Is absolute agreement with your opinions necessary to get an A in this class?” Dalton leaned back in his seat and adjusted his glasses.

“Mr. Vance. I will try not to be insulted by the implications of your question and just ask for your point.”

“All law is based on morality. Things we as a society have determined to be 'right and wrong'. While some of these ideas are culturally specific, such as parking tickets, many, if not most of the basic, primary laws are rooted in a world-wide, transcendent morality. Such as 'don't murder, don't steal'. In fact, I would be very surprised if you could find any defense in the Founding Father's writings for this textbook's definition of constitutional law.”

“The purpose of law is not morality. It is to keep civil order. While there may, of course, be some overlap with 'morality', morality isn't the purpose.” said Dr. Wood with a frown.

“That's begging the question. Who decided that civil order is good? Isn't that a moral judgment at its base?” said Dalton.

“You are missing the point, Dalton. Laws and civil order must apply to everyone. You couldn't decide that everyone should have short hair cuts, pass a law to that effect and then punish anyone with long hair,” said Dr. Wood.

“Prohibition, either of alcohol or drugs are substantively different from haircuts. If long hair 'abuse' caused increased crime and violence, thousands of deaths every year from driving under the influence and radically increased public health care costs, I think you could make a case that it was not only immoral but also in the best interest of 'Civil Order' to outlaw or limit 'long hair'.”

“Nazi.” The shaggy student coughed from the back row. Dalton ignored him.

“I think the issue you're having is that you fail to understand that 'morals' are things in people's brains that they get from religious books. Things like not eating shellfish...and I love me some shrimp...become immoral and illegal for no good reason. Laws are concrete and necessary for governing human relationships. Bad laws come from people conflating the two. That's how we get laws that prohibit things like drug or alcohol use.”

“Or abortions,” said Shelly.

Dr. Wood nodded, “Or abortions. An excellent example.”

Dalton suddenly felt very alone. “In the real world, things aren't so cut and dry as you seem to want to make them in this classroom, Professor Wood. If your definition is to be accepted, there is no reason to outlaw incest. Birth control or sterilization removes any reasonable objection to it. Polygamy should be fine as well.”

“Theoretically, you're right, Dalton.”

“Euthanasia. If someone is old or a non-productive member of society, why not just kill them? And why stop at abortion? Why not infanticide? What makes the birth canal a line between legal and illegal killing?”

“Now you're moving into absurdity,” frowned Dr. Wood.

“Am I?”

“Dalton...I'm surprised and curious about your perspectives on this. Doesn't your own mother sell weed?”

Dalton turned bright red. “I...uhh...well... She owns a legal medical marijuana clinic.”

The shaggy student in the back spoke up. “She pushes some fine kush, too.”

There was a knock at the door. Slightly surprised, Professor Wood answered it. Two men in suits stood outside. 

* * *

First year Criminal Law. An older professor wearing a rumpled suit with a purple bowtie stood in front of an amphitheater classroom delivering his lecture. The students, including Adrienne Jacks, were dutifully tapping out their notes on laptops. As the professor, J.W. Ringwood, turned to write on the whiteboard, a door at the back of the room, the top of the amphitheater, opened slowly.

Wyatt Vance, now showered and changed, saw that the professor's back was turned and took the opportunity to slip in and sit down unnoticed. Or so he thought.

Ringwood turned back to the class and was about to speak, when he stopped himself. He stared right at Wyatt.

“Mr. Vance. I hope Law School isn't interfering with your surfing schedule.”

“Not too much. But thanks for asking. Please. Continue,” Wyatt motioned with his hand for Ringwood to go on with his lecture. Several students shook their heads. A few watched with wide-eyed disbelief as Wyatt opened his laptop and slouched back in his chair.

Ringwood glared at Wyatt, “Glibness. Charming. Perhaps you could take over for Mr. Croft and give us the factual background in U.S. Versus Brown.”

“The defendant-” started Wyatt.

“Stand up, stand up, Mr. Vance.”

Wyatt stood up. “The defendant-”

“Project, Mr. Vance. From the diaphragm. So we can hear you. Perhaps the next time you go to the beach, you should fill your mouth with pebbles and try to speak over the roar of the surf you so love riding.”

“What?”

“Project! Mr. Vance.”

Wyatt took a breath and started again, “The defendant was convicted for possession of crack cocaine. He challenged his conviction by arguing the police searched him without reasonable suspicion.”

“And why is that a significant argument?” shot back Ringwood.

“Because cops can only search a defendant subsequent to an arrest or with reasonable suspicion that a crime has been or is being committed.”

“And how does that apply to Mr. Brown?” said Ringwood.

“Mr. Brown claims he was walking down the street, minding his own business and the cops stopped him without cause, searched him, reaching into his pockets and found the crack.” said Wyatt.

“And why isn't that a valid Terry stop?”

Wyatt paused. Too long.

“Mr. Vance?”

“Because the defendant's name was Jerome.”

The class laughed. Professor Ringwood didn't. He smoothed his white beard and glowered at Wyatt. “If you are not going to prepare for class, perhaps it would be better if you stayed on your surfing board,” Ringwood looked around the amphitheater. “Can anyone tell me the correct answer?”

Adrienne's hand shot up. “It wasn't a valid 'Terry' stop because the police officer had his gun drawn and a reasonable person wouldn't have felt free to leave.”

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Without waiting, the door opened and two men in suits stepped into the room. Ringwood, already irritated, vented on the two men.

“What is this? I am teaching a class. Class is in session. What do you mean by interrupting? Quickly. Explain yourselves or depart.”

One of the men flashed a badge. “Sorry sir. F.B.I. We're looking for a Mr. Wyatt Vance.”

The look on Ringwood's face was priceless. And the whole class turned to stare right at Wyatt. Wyatt shrank in his seat.

“How utterly shocking. Mr. Vance. The F.B.I. is here for you,” remarked Ringwood.

One of the agents, Agent Boone, spoke, “Mr. Vance, would you please come with us?”

“Do you have a warrant for my arrest?” Wyatt asked as he opened his web browser and started an email message.

“It's not like that. We just need to ask you some questions,” said Boone.

“Regarding?”

Boone tried to look conciliatory. He motioned towards the door. “Perhaps we could discuss this in the hall?”

“Yeah, I don't think so. I'm gonna need a lawyer present. Professor Ringwood, would you represent me?”

The scorn in Ringwood's laughter was answer enough.

Boone was getting impatient. “Mr. Vance, seriously. Please. We need you to come with us. Right now.”

“Uh, I'm in the middle of a very important class. So I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about. And maybe not even then, pal,” Wyatt finished typing a short email on his laptop and hit send.

The two agents looked at each other.

“Wyatt...Your father is missing.”