Chapter 1
   The day was young, but he wasn't. It was the morning of March 3, 2021. Will Hartline shifted onto his left hip, groaned, and spoke into the wind, even as it was only coming in through the side window.
   "This old girl is in better shape than my rear end."
   Will couldn't have asked for better weather-it was expected to reach a high of 60 degrees, giving the promise of spring and better days that were around the corner. He was in a cheerful mood-only a few hours away from reaching the goal he had set out four months earlier to accomplish.
   His pending arrival meant completion of his latest task, admittedly a political stunt, because his ordinary attempts to reach like-minded people got him nowhere. He had sent query letters to literary agents, which went ignored. He sent typed manuscripts to publishers who didn't bother to respond. He authored newsletters no one subscribed to. He scheduled lectures no one attended. He solicited radio and blog interviews hosts disregarded. His writings were posted on a website no one visited.
   Will had grown increasingly eager to accomplish his life's purpose with each passing decade, knowing he would all too soon pass away. He seemed to have a Sisyphean-like fate, of perpetual toil on non-arable lands without ever being able to enjoy a feast, since he hadn't yet harvested any fruit.
   He was pleased with his personal accomplishments-showing how designing men twisted the spirit of the Constitution while deviously upholding its strictest letter, but he had no luck whatsoever disseminating his knowledge.
   He may as well have lived in a cave on a deserted island. Actually, he wouldn't have minded anywhere near as much if the island had at least been dessert-ed (you know-that "feasting" thing one would fantasize about over and over, if one was never able to enjoy a feast).
   He leaned forward and patted the dash. "You're a good girl, Liberty," he said. The small 1984 John Deere 2550 farm tractor responded with a throaty grumble (Will goosed the accelerator whenever he wanted the machine to "talk" to him) and continued chugging down the city street at 18 mph. 
   "Hopefully a few more people will soon know the historical importance of this date," Will said. "Right, Liberty?"
   Another grumble.
   A car zipped by on Will's left with honks and an enthusiastic wave from the passenger window. Most people on his quest had been friendly-a few "middle finger salutes"-but overall, Will had been pleased with the reception his cross-country trek had received, although it certainly could have been better covered by the press.
   It began four months earlier-November 3, 2020-Election Day.  Quincy, Washington, was 4,000 road miles behind the destination he was now approaching. Will checked his rearview. The 20-foot travel trailer followed along dutifully-his evening place of slumber that doubled as a rolling billboard.
   Will glanced to his extended-reach sideview mirrors he added before his trip and smiled. He couldn't see the artwork, but knew it was there. A hand-painted picture of a soaring eagle and a copy of the Declaration of Independence graced the left side of the trailer, while the right side displayed the U.S. Constitution and Bill of Rights.
   Under the map of the United States found on the back of the trailer-which he updated to show his slow progress across the Union-was a website address a friend of his hosted with posts of Will's writings and updates on his trip. www.PatriotCorps.org. 
   One of the better decisions Will had made was posting his Citizens Band radio channel on his trailer. Many truck drivers inquired about his trip, and Will enjoyed the rolling conversations. He could always tell when oncoming truckers knew he was heading their way, because they would invariably blast their air horn at him and then ask him questions on the CB radio until they lost the signal.
   Will also enjoyed his conversations at truck stops and RV parks along his route, which became his two best spread-the-message venues, followed by fuel stops at ordinary gas stations and food stops at roadside cafes. Occasionally he'd strike gold and speak with a small-town newspaper reporter or a local radio host.
   Twin American flags fluttered from eight-foot poles on the back of his trailer, secured to the reinforced rear bumper. The flags stretched to their fullest majesty as he moved along the back roads and smaller highways across America's heartland.
   Besides the questionable legality of rolling along an Interstate freeway except where no reasonable alternative existed-typically bridges and mountain passes-Will knew he would be a hazard given the tractor's limited speed, where traffic was the heaviest and the fastest.
   Then there was the little issue of his driver's license-or lack thereof-that created pause with at least one policeman along the way.  But, as Will explained, he had been driving tractors on the road since he had been 12 years old, like so many other farm kids of his era, without legal issue, years before any of them could ever get a driver's license.
   Will had realized decades earlier-soon after he had picked up his tricorn hat, in fact-that he had no remaining desire to give up his unalienable God-given liberties, to receive revocable government privileges. If one needed a driver's license to drive a licensed vehicle to get places quickly and comfortably, his unlicensed tractor would get him all the places he needed to go, just fine, without needing a driver's license. He just had to plan further ahead, to arrive on time. His latest trip meant he had to start four months early.
   Another car passed. This time, the passenger-a scraggly-bearded young man-leaned out the window and hollered "Weirdo!" Will didn't understand the word shouted, but nevertheless largely received the message intended. The car, less than half the height of the Deere, cut perilously close in front of Will as he kept chugging along.
   "If I run into you, it'll hurt you a lot more than it'll hurt Ol' Liberty," he said, knowing the counterweights on the front of the tractor used to offset any weight he could carry on his rear-facing three-point hitch would serve as an impressive battering ram. Besides, one man's aversion was another's passion.
   Will was comfortable with who he was-sixty years old-part-time farm hand-single-and self-taught (though hardly amateur) constitutional devotee. He'd lived alone since Aileen's death. Had it really been thirty-two years? He didn't date-figuring no ordinary woman would ever care to put up with his mundane routine and steadfast effort to right the wrongs the country faced.
   He had no debt due to his frugal lifestyle, even though he only worked a few months each year during the busy planting and harvesting seasons. When he'd come up with the idea of this trip, he'd wondered how he would afford it. A cross-country trek so long in duration was not a cheap undertaking, even when he was pulling his own housing.
   He'd shared his idea with his employers and a few friends, including some who had ideas on how people could pitch in. After getting used to the idea, Will allowed a crowd-funding account to be set up to help cover expenses. With generous donations along the way, including complimentary stays at a few RV parks and strangers occasionally covering his fuel cost at the diesel pump to show their support, he had been able to cover expenses, including repairs, without excessive worry.
   Will maneuvered around a pile of trash someone had dumped in the middle of the road. With no one behind him, he pulled to the ample shoulder, put on his work gloves, bagged the garbage, tossed it in the refuse bin in the trailer, and put Liberty in gear.
   "We need to take care of this land, don't we, Old Girl?"
   He signaled as he merged onto the highway heading north-the last leg of his journey. Although cab-mounted flashers and turn signals were becoming standard equipment on tractors of the era, Will upgraded them for his cross-country drive, to make sure they were adequate for the task. He tugged on his tricorn cap and began to whistle Yankee Doodle.
   Seemed like an appropriate tune as he closed in on his destination: Washington, D.C.
   §§
   The interview was slotted for 2:00 PM-no one would have to rush and the crew at the station would have ample time to edit. The "talking heads" would add commentary and everything would air on the local news at 6:00 PM. If the piece sparked some interest, the station might run it again at 11:00 PM.
   Will was excited. "This is big, Old Girl," he said. "It is the best chance I've had yet, of hitting the national news. With any luck, they'll even show my website address."
   He was politely known a solitary man-although some said a curmudgeon. Living alone so long and working largely by himself had brought on a certain social reticence people often misinterpreted as unfriendliness. In truth, Will was kind and considerate-always eager to lend a hand to someone in need-always the first to show up when he heard of a neighbor having a fallen tree or runaway livestock.
   While some people invested their spare time in golf, bridge, hiking or host of other pursuits, Will's "hobby" was more private. From the day he'd put on the tricorn hat not long after his wife had passed, he'd developed a fascination for reading and examining the source documents of the American Republic. He'd fashioned a little-and private-ritual.
   Every night after dinner, which included thirty minutes of Bible reading and prayer, Will cleared the table, laid out his materials, and put on the hat. His "nightcap" consisted of pouring himself a glass of fresh milk, which he sipped while he pored over the Constitution and relevant source material. As the years rolled on and he became more familiar with era writings, he found himself more than occasionally employing what a friend of his called, "Adams' Speak"-a manner of talking in which Will used the conversational style of the 1700s: formal, sometimes circuitous, and invariably difficult for the modern ear to accept and translate.
   Of course, Will had always seen more eye-to-eye with Thomas Jefferson than John Adams, especially as far as their presidencies were concerned.  But, since Adams and Jefferson wrote to one another frequently in their later years-each living long enough to see the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence in 1826 (and each dying the same day)-Will wasn't about to hold a grudge against his friend who related better to Adams.
   Will did not mind when others thought him eccentric, but since he didn't really want to alarm anyone, Will tried to talk "like a human being" when he was around others. But when he lit the candles (he thought it was appropriate to mull over historical documents with period lighting, especially since it fit in with his simple lifestyle), and the hat went on his head, Will's internal speech patterns harkened back to the bygone days of the Sons of Liberty, the Minute Men, the Boston Tea Party, and the Founding Fathers.
   He respected them all-patriots and martyrs. He held no personal animus toward any gentleman who'd helped to shape the greatest nation in history, but one man.  Will Hartline could not abide-indeed, he detested-the machinations and manipulations of one who had most recently become a national sensation and inexplicably risen to the status of "historical superstar."
   Alexander Hamilton.
   Though Hamilton had performed spectacularly during the War of Independence, Will had no use for him afterwards. Will firmly believed Americans were living Alexander Hamilton's true political legacy-a totalitarian nightmare-an abomination which Chief Justice John Marshall later helped implement into formal Supreme Court legend.
   §§
   The striking young reporter, Emerson Nester, pushed all the "B" buttons for a rising media darling: Blonde, Blue-eyed, and Beautiful. She was well-dressed in a tailored jacket even Will could tell was expensive. Her heels made her almost as tall as Will-she must not have minded towering over most people. Perhaps it was a television thing, Will thought. The camera man (Lucas) was a disheveled twenty-something with a scruffy beard, torn jeans, a tee-shirt reading "The Future is Female," and reeking of cannabis. 
   I wonder if any of this will be in focus. 
   Lucas held up his hand. "In five, four..." Then a countdown with his finger-three, two, one-and then he pointed.
   "Thanks, Lauren," the reporter said. "I'm here on the Washington Mall with Will Hartline, a patriotic farmer who has just driven his tractor coast-to-coast to garner support for farm families all across this great land. Tell us about your travels, Will."
   Will was caught off guard by the introduction, as he tried to decide how to handle the understandable presumption. In the meantime, he said, "Thank you for coming to see me, Miss Nester."
   "It's Ms.," she said, interrupting Will, "but just call me Emerson."
   "Em...erson," Will stuttered, "I'm sorry, but I also need to clarify the purpose of my cross-country drive-it is to commemorate the 200th anniversary today of one of the most harmful Supreme Court decisions in our history."
   "Aw, geez," Emerson said. "Cut!" She looked at Will. "Look, mister, I'm not doing a Roe v. Wade piece here. Everyone on both sides of the issue made up their minds long ago. The topic of abortion promises to stunt the career of any reporter who delves into it too deeply, by alienating half of his or her viewers, either way the topic is covered. Lucas, pack it up."
   This is not good. The reporter obviously wasn't paying attention. After all, Roe was decided less than 50 years ago, not 200. Will fought back panic, but the rocky start threw him for a loop, from which he would not easily recover.
   "Miss Nester...Emerson...I mean. Ms. Fitzpatrick-your Programming Manager-promised me I'd get a chance to share my story, if I made it to town; ah, er, when I made it to town.
   "I don't think she'd be happy if you gave up so quickly and came back with nothing, since she already sent you and your cameraman.
   "And, even though I strongly disagree with Roe v. Wade, I am not here to discuss abortion. Although, I guess the topic would fall in line with my work, which shows how federal powers improperly invaded into the reserved domain of the States," Will said, as he ventured from his point, to address Emerson's.
   Emerson's eyes narrowed. "You're not going there, then?" she asked.
   Will dragged his fingers across his chest. "Cross my heart," he said, not realizing the gesture risked foreshadowing his future if he were superstitious.
   "Okay," she said. "I'm sorry for jumping to a false conclusion. You cannot imagine the whack jobs I deal with every day here in Washington-and they say California is 'The Land of Fruits and Nuts'."
   They're not far off, Will thought.
   "Okay, Lucas," she said. "Let's roll tape. Will, I'll point the mic at you-you tell your story. The boom mic will pick you up. We'll shoot an intro and fix everything up in post. Sound good?"
   Will had no idea what she meant, but nodded, as he struggled to organize his thoughts.
   Emerson was reattaching her earpiece. Without looking up, she asked, "What made you do this? You know, the tractor thing?"
   "To be honest," Will admitted, "my cross-country tractor drive was something of a political stunt. I wanted to get people's attention, but after 30 years of trying conventionally and failing every time, I decided to try something a little less conventional."
   Will noticed he still did not have Emerson's attention. He was surprised Emerson didn't question him much, to help communicate what he was doing and why, to tell a better story. He knew directed questions would help keep him on topic, since he had the decided weakness of going off on lengthy tangents, losing people along the way. He cleared his throat and she looked up. "Ah, M...I'm sorry-Emerson, would you mind if I wore a hat?"
   "Can I see it?" she asked. "You know, if it says something inappropriate, Standards and Practices will crawl all over me."
   Once Will deciphered her answer, he was surprised by her words of caution, given some of the garbage he had heard was on television nowadays.
   Will walked over and reached up into his tractor and grabbed his tricorn hat off the side of the seat and plopped it on his head.
   "Perfect!" Emerson said. "This will add some character-really good."
   Will listened for sarcasm-he heard nothing but genuine enthusiasm. She was worried about nuts and whack jobs, but didn't seem fazed by tricorn hats. Go figure.
   "Glad you like it," he said, not fully convinced she did. "For some reason, it seems to help me organize the thoughts that swirl around in my head, perhaps keeping them from drifting off into space."
   Emerson ignored Will's metaphor, smoothed her hair, and waited for a need to interject anything.  Lucas gave the signal and Emerson pointed to the camera.
   Will swallowed and said a quick prayer. Then he started. "Thank you, Emerson," he said. "I drove my tractor across the country to commemorate the 200th anniversary today of Cohens v. Virginia, an 1821 Supreme Court decision with disastrous political effects." 
   He paused momentarily in case Emerson wanted to ask a question. She gave him a circular motion with her index finger: Keep going. 
   Here you go, Will, he thought. Time to start turning the country around-do not screw this up! This is your last, best chance.
   Something was wrong. Will hardly recognized the sound of his own voice. Though he was the farthest thing from a gifted speaker, he could hold his own in most constitutional discussions, at least on paper. But his voice was quivering-he was stammering. What had seemed so clear to him on the 4,000-mile trip-the lines he had rehearsed at every point on his trek-suddenly dissolved into mush in his mouth.
   "The Cohens brothers of Virginia sold D.C.-based lottery tickets in Virginia in contravention to State law," Will managed to say, as he found some rhythm. "The lottery had been organized under an 1812 legislative Act of Congress for the District of Columbia. When hauled into court, the brothers asserted the Act-being an Act of Congress and signed into law by the President-was binding upon the States.
   "Virginia claimed laws enacted by Congress under Clause 17 for the District Seat weren't actual laws 'of the United States.' Or, even if they were, they still could not form part of the 'supreme Law of the Land' that could bind the States nationwide."
   Will turned off-face to the camera, and looked at Emerson for a moment.
   "Wait-to understand this, I should probably tell you about Article 1, Section 8, Clause 17 of the U.S. Constitution. It says, and I quote:
   Congress shall have Power...To exercise exclusive Legislative in all Cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the United States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by the Consent of the Legislature of the State in which the Same shall be, for the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, dock-Yards and other needful Buildings.
   Emerson frowned and started to fidget, circling her finger again for Will to speed up his storytelling. He realized he shouldn't have cited the long passage, especially on television.
   He tried to make up for his diversion by speeding up-which caused him to lose his place.  He stumbled over a few words, before recovering, "Chief Justice John Marshall deviously steered the court in the direction of Alexander Hamilton's earlier vision for the future-securing Hamilton's clever Constitution-bypass strategy into the official Supreme Court record, to extend the inherent discretion allowed for the District Seat, beyond District boundaries, and then keeping quiet about what he had done.
   "Marshall cleverly ruled for Virginia in the case before the Court-but only by saying Congress did not in this particular case (dealing with lotteries), intend to bind the States with Congress' exclusive legislation powers.
   "Marshall established his screwy standard, but then deviously said it didn't apply in the particular instance before the Court, relating to lottery ticket sales. In other words, he created a flexible but binding precedent with the least chance for timely objection.
   "Indeed, since the current case went for Virginia, how could Virginia really oppose the standard there set down but there not utilized, since Virginia had just won the answer it sought?
   "After all, Virginia could not really argue about theoretical future cases, where the Court could rule Congress did intend in those cases to bind the States with exclusive legislation authority.
   "That would be the duty of the States in future cases, whenever the courts based their decisions on the 1821 'standard.'
   "But, future court rulings wouldn't necessarily even have to openly cite or expressly point to the 1821 ruling, at least directly.
   "In future cases, the Supreme Court could rule the States were bound by the exclusive legislation powers of Congress, whenever Congress intended-even if the justices openly only offered up lame excuses to throw everyone off-track as to what they relied upon in their decision.
   "Chief Justice John Marshall fiendishly took an arbitrary power and made it fully capricious, setting up a miserable future of ever-increasing federal supremacy. And, the greatest fiction repeatedly cited by the Court was asserting that justices could give existing words of the Constitution a new meaning, for direct implementation throughout the Union. This would theoretically give federal servants new powers, when in reality they only gave words a different meaning, where they could, which was in and for the District Seat."
   As the interviewer was getting increasingly fidgety, Will realized his time was running out. The reporter either didn't care for the story or didn't like being there, for she merely went through the motions.
   Will pushed forward with his explanation, while he was still given the opportunity.
   "1821 Cohens followed the lead of Marshall's earlier cases-1803 Marbury v. Madison and 1819 McCulloch v. Maryland-driving the final nail in the limited-government coffin he had started two decades earlier. Marshall boldly claimed the Supreme Court could 'reinterpret' various words and phrases found in the Constitution, differently than the words meant, at time of ratification.
   "But, what the justices and members of Congress were really doing was simply changing the meaning of particular words, only where and when they had the authority to do so-which was in and for the District of Columbia, where federal guardians must make up all their own rules as they go along.
   "Of course, the trillion-dollar question Marshall intentionally left obscure, was the extent to which these exclusive legislation laws of the United States under Clause 17 could actually bind the States-."
   Emerson's voice echoed across the plaza. "And thank you, Mr. Hartline, for the fascinating voyage into history. This is Emerson Nester, WTVQ television. Back to you, Lauren."
   Lucas lowered his camera, "And, we're done," he said. He packed his equipment like a man whose pants were on fire, then looked at Emerson. "I'll be in the van." 
   After leaning up against a nearby light pole, Will looked down at his feet. He could feel Emerson approaching, but wasn't particularly interested in facing her.
   "I fouled up my biggest chance yet, to do something to help this country," he said, continuing to look down, without seeking to blame anyone but himself for his own lackluster performance.
    He heard a soft chuckle. "It's called choking, Mr. Hartline," Emerson said. "It can happen to anyone. You are obviously passionate and informed. You just chose the wrong format."
   Will looked up, with a confused look on his face.
   "Local TV news isn't ever going to give you the forum you want, especially in this town. I came out here as punishment. This was a puff piece-a quirky little story about some guy from Oregon."
   "Washington," Will said, correcting her.
   "Same difference," Emerson said. "I should have paid more attention at the start and the minute I realized how serious you were, I should have taken you aside, to warn you. Looking at your tractor drive, and then seeing you in a tricorn hat, though, I just didn't know what to think of you, to tell you the truth." 
   "Punishment for what?" Will asked, accepting the blame for using a stunt to try and nevertheless get out his message on a grave matter. "Warning of what?"
   "I'm a good reporter," Emerson said, "but I guess I offended my boss last week, when I refused to go out on a second date with his best friend, who was a little too presumptuous for my tastes.
   "Although my boss knows he certainly can't fire me-good ratings; sort of a local big deal and all-that doesn't mean he won't punish me in the short term. 
   "After all, I just broke a big story about some shenanigans on Capitol Hill two weeks ago. I caught a couple of Senators-from both major parties-using their positions for personal gain and I called them out on it.
   "The networks have been talking to me and my boss knows the station doesn't want to lose or permanently offend me. But, as punishment, I get to do a few pseudo stories-like yours."
   Will felt his blood pressure spike, as he frowned.
   Emerson raised her palms in surrender. "I know, I know. You're serious. I can tell you're not a publicity hound, someone who would spend four months driving your rig across the country only to get your name in the paper or on television.
   "I could tell after listening to you for just a few minutes that you have an important story to tell behind your little stunt."
   Will was surprised at Emerson's Capitol Hill story, given her seeming disinterest in his interview, which covered much more extensive corruption than affecting only two Senators, in one minor instance of small-time graft. After all, Will's story reached all of government, for over two hundred years, attempting to fundamentally transform it into its polar opposite.
   "I've done a little constitutional study myself-Political Science major at Georgetown," Emerson said. "I got my masters in the same field while I took extra courses in communications."
   "I wouldn't have guessed it," Will said.
   "I've also studied Hamilton."
   Will smiled. "The musical?"
   Emerson erupted in laughter. "Not bad."
   "For a farmer, you mean?" Will asked.
   "No, I wasn't talking about the musical and its inventive picture it paints of Hamilton," Emerson answered, leaving alone Will's last comment. "I know soon after the Revolutionary War, many people came to question Hamilton's true motives. You're only the latest person I've met who places Hamilton, and Marshall, for that matter, at the political foundation of the escalating federal tyranny we face."
   Will stood upright. "Good to meet someone else who cares so deeply. I wouldn't have guessed as much, twenty minutes ago." He moved to shake her hand. Emerson extended a clenched fist. Will was unfamiliar with fist "bumps," nor did he care to learn how to "pump" her knuckles.
   "Company policy," she said. "Covid-19 and all."
   "Another subject entirely," he said, never one to force a handshake, but not caring to perform any "hip" procedures, either. "This whole episode today-down to the greeting and parting gestures which aren't a handshake-shows me just how far I'm out of touch with modern society. I have to say, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to function in today's culture. Sometimes, I just wonder if I was born two hundred years too late."
   She nodded, as if she understood his frustration, before getting to his unanswered question, regarding her lack of interest in his interview. "As far as me not seeming to pay much attention, it's not because of you or your subject matter-it is because I don't think any of this will air tonight and I'm not interested in wasting my time on unproductive work.
   "As I told you, the station was trying to punish me. They aren't likely going to bite the hand that feeds them. Remember, everyone at the station lives and works in this town. Only if a story like this cannot be contained will the station likely cover it."
   "Live and learn, I guess," Will said. "As the old saying goes, Fool me once..."
   "Something tells me you're not easily fooled twice, Will Hartline," Emerson interrupted. 
   Reaching into her bag, Emerson pulled out a business card, and wrote on the back. She handed the card to Will. "I wrote my cell number on the back. Not sure I can do anything to make this up to you, but if I can-call me. Maybe at some point in the future, I can help you, perhaps in another way, even as I don't think I can help you, today, with positive television news coverage of your trip."
   She waved and walked towards the van.  
   Will heard her voice over his shoulder as he headed back to Liberty. 
   "You know, not everyone could pull off that hat. But on you, somehow it fits."
   §§
   At 6:00 PM, Will was in the lobby of his last RV park, to watch the evening news, on WTVQ. Twenty-eight minutes later, he was still waiting for his story to air. A square-jawed anchorman turned to his female co-host.
   "Well, Lauren," he said, "You've got one last thing to cheer everyone up, right?"
   "Yes, I do, Nolan," she said.
   Will sat up straighter, as the screen showed his tractor coming around a traffic circle at the interview site.
   Lauren was talking. "Just when you think you've seen everything, we've got this. A guy pulling a trailer with his farm tractor and clogging up traffic in the heart of the city. Looking at his signage, I'd say he loves himself some America."
   Nolan's laugh was boisterous and as fake as Lauren's eyelashes.
   "Well," Nolan said, "I imagine he didn't make a lot of friends with the line of cars following behind him. But it takes all kinds, doesn't it?"
   "It certainly does," Lauren said. "I'm just glad he didn't decide to drive a riding lawnmower, about the only thing slower on earth, than a farm tractor. Can you imagine how long it would take to drive a lawnmower across the country?" She turned to the camera with a plastic grin stamped onto her overly made-up face. "For Nolan Carmichael, I'm Lauren Victor. Goodnight from WTVQ-and be safe, Washington."
   Will heard a recorded crowd yelling, "Wheel...of...Fortune," but his disappointment blurred his vision.
   "It wasn't a joke," he said to himself, of his cross-country stunt that nevertheless dealt with a serious subject matter. "I don't care if they make fun of me, but my mission is serious."
   The next few hours went by in a blur-Will was on autopilot and wouldn't have been able to recall the events of the evening after the newscast if his life depended upon it. It wasn't until he got back into a routine, this time making himself a ham and cheese sandwich back in his trailer, that he began to catch up. After he finished his evening meal, he pulled out a sheaf of papers and his pocket copy of the Constitution from a drawer. He did his evening study, made several notes on a typewritten manuscript, then opened his Bible. He turned to the Gospel of Matthew and read in a quiet voice:
  Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.
   By the time he completed his evening rituals, he was largely over his dejection and ready for bed. He changed into his pajamas and then knelt.
   "Dear Lord: Guide my heart. Strengthen me to do what I must not from malice but in the desire to help this country and to fulfill Your will. Amen."
   He switched off the light, punched his pillow, and pulled the comforter to his shoulder. 
   

Chapter 2 
   The line outside the National Archives Museum the next morning extended down the street. Will waited patiently with other eager patrons for the doors to open.
   This was the first time Will had ever made it to the nation's capital and he figured he'd never make it back again. Thus, he was anxious to see some of the historical sites as a reward for an otherwise-successful cross-country journey, even if he didn't get as much news coverage as he had hoped, especially his grand finale at the end of his trip. The National Archives Museum was his first stop and the highlight of his trip.
   Even as he tried to allow the older couple in front of him their privacy, he overheard them talking. "I'm excited," the woman said. "Another place we can get in free."
   "Well, honey," the man said, "I'm excited too, but if you think these places are free, we should meet with our accountant when we get home, so he can explain how much we pay in taxes every year. All the people in this town ever care about is money-money and power. They take our hard-earned money, then want us to feel grateful because we don't have to pay to see our country's founding documents. I wish someone would beat them at their own game."
   "Oh, Elliot," she said, "all you ever do is complain. Why don't you just enjoy the start of our day at this marvelous museum?"
   "Oh, I'll enjoy it, Martha," Elliot said. "I just think it would be nice if you realized-"
   Will smiled when Elliot stopped abruptly. Will knew he had witnessed a husband getting "the look" from his wife-the steely gaze every husband learns to recognize if not fear-time to pick one's battles and if the current one wasn't worth the fight, then to retreat without further humiliation.
   The line hadn't moved. Will looked at his watch-9:15 AM. Another 45 minutes. He covered the highlights of his trip in his mind.
   Words that he'd just heard began to ping-pong in his head, over the next half hour-"Money and power...beat them at their own game."
   What if I did-beat them at their own game? What if there were a way to expose everyone who's in this for themselves? A way to shine the light of freedom on the tyranny posing as our rightful government? 
   He went back to the interview with Emerson Nester. He realized he largely blew it. He wasn't a good speaker. His words never flowed well, and his mind repeatedly went blank, with his mouth filling in the unintended void with obnoxious filler words in a tiring manner. He knew the subject, but he didn't like crowds and he had no experience with public speaking, let alone before a television camera.  Once Emerson showed him the microphone and he gazed into the lens of the camera, either might as well have been a timber rattler. 
   Will rubbed his back at the beltline. Sciatica was creeping down his right leg-a recurring issue and a reminder of the lengthy trip he just completed-the trip without overt and measurable success.
   If I'd only known it wasn't going to be a lengthy interview, like I had thought, perhaps I could have honed my argument and done a better job. But, he realized, no, he probably wouldn't have done any better if he knew his time limit. Once they pushed the microphone in his face in front of the camera, it was largely already over for him.
   He began running his interview through his head, again. Then, Elliot's comments pushed aside Will's thoughts. "Money and power" echoed in Will's head, when suddenly his Big Idea came into his mind in a full-blown, lightbulb moment-a clever scheme writ large as if an invisible hand had inscribed them directly onto Will's brain.
   Curiously enough, his new strategy would be even more insidious than the tactics used by his historical adversaries who first implemented their devious means to circumvent normal constitutional parameters so long ago.
   Will's cunning plan would use his political adversaries' insatiable appetite and lust for power as bait, to lure them in and expose their tactics to the bright light of day, beating them at their own game.
   Beat them at their own game, Will repeated subconsciously in his mind. He felt a sudden peace, which meant he was on to something, at least if he had the guts to pursue it.
   In a blinding moment of inspiration, Will Hartline saw what he had to do-how he could save his beloved nation. There was a great amount of risk, though, because if he failed again, he would have only helped his political adversaries advance their absolute rule so they could crush patriots in a final, devastating blow. Or, perhaps, his tactic would backfire in another way, and end all federal authority, entirely, which he didn't want either.
   Although introverted by nature, Will stepped forward to bounce his daring idea off the man who indirectly helped him create it, "Say, uh, Mr. Elliot, is it?
   "Well, it's Mr. Parker-or Elliot-which is my first name," Elliot said. "You look like a fellow patriot-feel free to call me Elliot."
   I look like a fellow patriot? Will asked in his mind, before thinking about what they were in line to see.
   A wide grin spread over Elliot's face, after reading the puzzling look on Will's face. "Well, besides waiting here in this line for the doors to open-your hat is a pretty strong clue."
   Will had forgotten he was wearing his tricorn hat. "Oh," he said. "Sort of a keepsake-I thought it was appropriate, given what we're waiting to view."
   "It's a beaut," Elliot said. "How can I help you?"
   Will scrunched his eyebrows together. "I overheard your conversation with Mrs. Parker there-"
   "Martha," she said, extending her hand.
   Will shook it and said, "Hello, glad to meet you," before remembering he hadn't even introduced himself. "Hi. I'm Will Hartline-pleased to meet you both." He glanced to Elliot and also shook his hand. "Anyway, I couldn't help but overhear your comment a while back and I wanted to ask you a question."
   Parker reached for his back pocket. "You need some money for gas or something, my friend?"
   Will threw his palms up. "Oh, by no means, no. I only had a question of you, if I may ask."
   "No offense intended." Elliot stated. "Go ahead-I'll answer if I can."
   "No offense taken," Will said. "My question is this. What do you think would happen if the folks here in Washington, D.C.-the elected ones in federal positions-suddenly had the opportunity to serve four times longer political terms, seemingly almost into perpetuity."
   Parker shook his head. "Ugh! It would be an unmitigated disaster. They'd grab at it like a pit bull chomping on a ribeye.  And, they'd likely kill to keep it, if it appeared the opportunity were slipping away from them."
   "Which party?" Will asked. "Traditionalists or Unionists?"
   Parker did not hesitate. "As much as I support the Traditionalists in most things, as compared with the Unionists, anyway, either party would gobble up the opportunity
   "They're all power hungry-at least from my way of thinking."
   "Even Senate Majority Leader Andrew Carrier? I've recently met many fine people who seem to think he does a fairly good job, considering what he's up against."
   "Oh," Parker said. "I suppose I like his politics as far as they go. But if he had the chance at extended political power, without frequent elections, he'd be after it as fast as anyone else."
   A voice came from behind them. "Hey guys, do you mind?"
   Will glanced at the door of the Museum. The line had started to move. They were ten feet behind the people in front of them. He waved behind them. "Sorry," he said.
   Will and the Parkers moved towards the door.
   Is this a good idea or am I just nuts? 
   



Chapter 3
   Will had stood in churches with less reverence and libraries that were noisier. It seemed as if everyone was holding their breath as the crowd viewed the Holy Trinity of American History: The Declaration of Independence, the U.S. Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. 
   He could see the Founders-he could hear their arguments. In his mind, he saw the two junior members of the assemblage, Thomas Lynch Jr. and Edward Rutledge, scrawl their names on the Declaration, right along with the seventy-year-old elder statesman and inventor, Benjamin Franklin. 
   Names, dates, and anecdotes filled Will's mind, as the three made their way through and then finally out of the exhibit hall.
   "You okay, Will?"
   It was Martha. She was holding out a handkerchief. She pointed to Will's face, who didn't realize a tear had fallen down his cheek.
   "Pretty moving, huh Old Boy?" Elliot said.
   "Yes," Will said. "But I was thinking of how far we have fallen, all at our own hand."
   "If you boys are going to complain about government again, I'm going to engage in some retail therapy," Martha said, motioning to her purse, nodding towards the gift shop.
   As Martha entered the gift shop, Elliot indicated he'd stay outside and speak with Will. 
   Ten minutes later, Martha exited with two gift bags. "Elliot, we need to be going. We promised the grandchildren we would take them for ice cream after we meet for lunch."
   "This is an interesting discussion, Martha," Elliot said. "The grandkids can wait a few minutes."
   "Dear..." Martha said, giving her husband the look-indicating in this instance that they weren't in town to visit with strangers they'd never see again, but spend time with family viewing the historic sites.
   Shaking Elliot's hand goodbye, Will figured it was premature to discuss much more of his still-percolating plan anyway. "Great generals know when to surrender the field in the face of overwhelming odds, my friend. Take care."
   "You too, Will. Please let me know if you could use my help in your plan to fix the country," Elliot said, as he gave Will his contact information, indicating they lived in Pittsburg. As Elliot walked off hand-in-hand with Martha, he added a parting comment-"I'll do everything within my power that I can to help clear the political roadblocks from my grandchildren's path. I am quite concerned about their future."
   §§
   After confirming prior arrangements to transport his tractor and trailer back home and dropping them off at the truckyard, Will took a long bus ride back to Washington State. It was nearly time for spring plowing season to commence, meaning work would soon be waiting for him.
   If he had to rank the direct success of his four-month journey, he had reached far more people than ever before with his message, but it made nowhere near as much of an impact as he had hoped.
   It was true that he had built up a bevy of friends across the Union, so he at least had something to build upon. Indeed, many offered future support, to the extent they were able.
   The best thing about his four-month journey was in the development of a new plan forward, just as he had finished his last plan. It was always important to have a next step, even if it wasn't big. Sometimes, it was just important to keep moving in the general direction of one's goal.
   But, his next step was big-very, very big. In fact, a nagging thought kept reoccurring in his mind...Yes, I must continue to do something, but should I really go this far? Should I really take such a giant step and great risk, especially considering many people would deem my last venture a failure, by most conventional standards?
   He spent the next few days at his cabin and went through his strategy, time and again, trying to think through all the ramifications. He might miss something of critical importance, if he wasn't diligent. He prayed for guidance day-after-day and night-after-night.
   Should I really go forward with my strategy? I have to get it right, or I'll do a lot of damage, from which there may perhaps be no recovery. Lord, give me the wisdom I need, to know how to proceed.
   The mental strain from the internal wrestling tired him more than normal. He had a dream that night, as he often did. He was with Aileen, and she was urging him to find the courage he needed to step forward boldly and carry out his daring plan. There could be no risk of great reward, she seemed to say, without taking a degree of risk. His past efforts, after all, had failed to make a sufficient impact.
   Will's dream gave him the impression it was time to move ahead with his plan, but he made one last prayer for guidance. Will prayed often, for he was not only hard of hearing, but also a little pig-headed, and he wanted to make sure he wasn't moving forward on his own bull-headedness. Coming to the same conclusion time and again from many different angles, he finally said to himself, it is time for the nuclear option.
   He had four days left before he was to begin plowing at the farm where he worked during the busy planting and harvest seasons. This meant he had four days to finish his immediate project-writing The Political Year Strategy, to advance his plan.
   Pulling out the Underwood, Will began to type on the old manual typewriter.
   When he finished writing and re-writing his paper three days later, he mailed his strategy paper to the local Grant County Traditionalist Party chairman (the most political person he personally knew).

Chapter 4
   White House Press Secretary Nancy Johnson sat across the table from her friend Abby Thomas and stabbed at a salad. It was Friday, May 7, 2021.
   "I would kill for a burger and fries," Nancy said.
   "But you wouldn't fit into those expensive clothes you wear, and you'd have to give them all to me," Abby said.
   "Point taken."
   "How are your folks?" Abby asked.
   "Proud...overjoyed...blah, blah...you know, little girl works in the White House. They have no idea I spend most of my day being accused by the press of withholding information but then getting yelled at by my bosses for saying too much," Nancy said. "And then we had The Conversation again."
   Abby took on a parental tone. "Do you mean the conversation about you meeting a nice guy, getting married and giving them grandchildren?"
   "Well, almost-" Nancy said. "Daddy quit asking about my having their grandchildren when I told him I was practicing as much as I could. That shut him up. Real fast."
   "You did not say that to your father!" Abby said, as a statement rather than as a question, laughing at the sheer audacity of her best friend.
   "Did too-now he just asks if I am seeing anyone special, if he gathers up the nerve."
   Abby almost spit out her food. "What a riot. You haven't had a date in what-three years?"
   "Not unless you count the last national convention where at least four old men slapped me on the rear and called me 'Honey,'" Nancy said.
   Nancy took a breath to say something but was interrupted by a tall man in his early 40s who came up to the table.
   "Excuse me, Ms. Johnson," he said. "I don't know if you remember me."
   "Of course, I do, Sam," Nancy said, again proving her superb memory, which helped her climb the administrative ladder to her enviable position. She turned to Abby. "Abby, this is Sam Bennett, Chair of the Washington State Traditionalist Party.  We last saw each other at the last Conventional Political Action Conference, if I recall correctly."
   "Indeed," he said. "You have an excellent memory."
   "And, Sam, this is my best friend, Abby," Nancy said, before moving on. "What can I do for you? No one in Washington ever just stops by to say hello," she said out loud, while saying to herself-they all want something. 
   "Well, I'm from the other Washington-Washington State-where it isn't quite so strange," Sam said, before he next admitted what he wanted. "I'm going to deliver a position paper to the Traditionalist National Committee after lunch, but I think someone on the President's senior staff probably ought to have it as well. I happened to spot you from across the room while I was eating lunch. If you'd review it in your spare time, you can decide whether to run it up your flagpole. My guess is if you don't see any merit, neither will anyone else. I admire your work and I trust your judgment. But, I'll have to say, this paper sure looks mighty important to me. In some ways I hate the discussed plan, but I readily admit, it could come in handy keeping us in the majority for quite some time."
   "Thank you," Nancy said. She eyed the manilla envelope. "Where did you get it?"
   "A local county party chair hand-delivered it to our party's headquarters in Olympia yesterday morning. She insisted it couldn't wait until I returned Sunday, so they shipped it to me in care of my hotel, next-day air, marking it 'Urgent Political Matter.' 
   "I read it when I got to my hotel room last night and immediately called this morning for an in-person meeting at the National Committee-dicey stuff if you ask me. Normally, I put most things I receive in ol' File Thirteen, but this matter needs eyes higher up to judge its importance. I made an extra copy, which you may have, if you care to look at it."
   Nancy hoped her smile didn't look as weak as it felt. "Thank you, Sam," she said. "I'll be sure to look it over in my spare time."
   "Say, uh..." Sam said.
   Uh oh, here it comes.
   "Since you're doing me a solid, why don't you let me say thanks by taking you out to dinner-say, tonight or tomorrow, before I leave town on the Red Eye late tomorrow night?"
   "You're very nice, Sam," Nancy said, "but I'm kinda seeing someone. It's real new and I want to tread lightly-you understand, I'm sure."
   Sam stepped back, disappointment on his face. "No problem...absolutely, wanna give it a fair shake. I completely understand, I'm cool with that."
   He might have strung fifteen more clichés together, but Nancy saved him. "Thank you so much. I'll be sure to look into your paper."
   Sam slithered off and Abby stifled a laugh. "Sam seemed nice; maybe you should have said 'yes.' It was just dinner, you know. It wouldn't kill you to go out on a date with a nice guy, at least once in a while."
   "My life is too busy to think about dating right now," Nancy said, offering an excuse, to avoid the issue.
   Abby shook her head. "And when exactly will you have time, Nancy? You're not getting any younger, you know. We're the same age and I have been married for eight years."
   "Some time before your fourth child graduates from college," Nancy said, figuring her comment would buy her an indefinite amount of time.
   "Well, girlfriend, you might want to reconsider your answer to Sam, because 'Mr. Right' and I have already been trying for child number four!" Abby said.
   "Are you kidding?" asked Nancy. "You're just telling me now that you hope to have another child, when we've been here an hour?"
   "I was waiting for the right moment to tell you," Abby said. "You have to realize it can prove dicey to speak to people who don't have children, about me having a fourth, right? Even my own family started looking at us funny after two kids."
   "Yes, I guess so," Nancy answered. Reading between the inferred lines, Nancy added, "And, yes, I want children, someday-although I have no desire at present for the morning sickness, the painful delivery, the sleepless nights, the crying, the diapers..."
   "I can tell you haven't had any children yet," said Abby. "Yes, it is all true, but it is so worth it. My greatest hope is you will someday experience the pain and trouble."
   "Because misery loves company?" Nancy asked, laughing, trying to keep the conversation light, even as she was tiring of being alone, the result of her concentrating upon her career.
   "No, I'm serious and you know it," Abby said. "I know one isn't supposed to put so much stock in motherhood and family these days, to pursue a career, instead. But I readily admit my family is my greatest joy, even as they are also occasionally my greatest difficulty."
   And with the present discussion being about as much as the two friends could discuss before one of them grew uncomfortable due to their differing circumstances, the lunch date began winding down.
   Little could Nancy then know, before long, the "Urgent Political Matter" in the envelope under her purse would soon become the new "obsession du jour" in D.C.
§§
   Nancy, thirty-two, lived alone. The apartment had its usual "end of the week and nothing is where it belongs" look. She liked to clean and straighten on the weekend, but she was exhausted. Well, not that she liked to clean and straighten, but she liked a clean and straightened place. It always took too much effort to find things she needed, if life interfered for too long, and kept her from getting her apartment cleaned and things put away so she could find them again.
   She attacked the pile of laundry overflowing the hamper. She tackled the garbage, dusted, watered the plants (not far from death), and then assaulted her floors with the vacuum cleaner and a mop.
   At least she didn't have a dog or cat. She'd kept a goldfish until last winter when she found "Fred" floating belly-up in his bowl. She decided pets weren't safe around her. Plants didn't necessarily fare a great deal better, as her important work tasks invariably took precedence.
   Nancy looked at the clock-7:30 PM. Thirty minutes later, China Spring delivered her extra-spicy Singapore Mai Fung.
   "Thank you for the tip, Miss Nancy."
   "You're welcome, Fong," Nancy said. "Thanks for your prompt delivery-I'm really looking forward to a superb dinner."
   "You...always nice," the young man said, in broken English. 
   "My pleasure," Nancy said. 
   Nancy popped open a diet soda, grinning a little when she heard the familiar pffffffft, and ate her meal like a starving tiger.
   Didn't know I was so hungry.  
   She had cleaned the kitchen and bathroom until they were spotless and her bedroom and living room to B+ standards. The couch felt good when she sank into it. Just before she turned on the television, she saw the corner of the report Sam Bennett had given her leering at her from her valise. 
   Geez. I can't get caught flatfooted if someone asks me about it.
   Since Sam was also going to pass the strategy paper along, she felt some pressure to stay up with the competition likely within her own ranks. Figuring she was typically more committed than most of her cohorts, however, she felt she was yet safe to get a good night's sleep.
   Nancy went to her office for half of Saturday, but stayed four hours longer than she had planned. After enjoying a quick run through the park, she went home and showered and made herself a ham, bacon and cheese omelet, with toast. While Nancy wasn't a closet eater, no one would ever accuse her of undereating, seeing her eat on the weekend, when she allowed herself to live a little.
   She was about to dive into The Political Year Strategy, when she got a call from her upset mother. She was taking her husband to the emergency room, for x-rays of his forearm, after his fall from a short ladder.
   Nancy didn't get to the hospital until the orthopedic technicians were wrapping her dad's left forearm in a cast. He suffered a fracture to the radius and ulna, just proximal to the wrist. It was a break so common-1/6th of all adult bone fractures-that it had its own name: Colles' fracture.
   Beyond a few more bumps and a bruised ego, however, her father would be okay. He just had to slow down long enough to let his hurt wing heal.
   As was her custom, Nancy attended church on Sunday. When she returned home, she began readying herself for the coming week. She had a lot to do but the strategy paper kept popping into her mind.
   At 4:00 PM, Nancy opened the mailer and grabbed out the paper.
   "Who uses a typewriter these days, let alone a manual one?" she said to no one. 
   She was hooked after a few minutes of reading.
   §§
March 21, 2021
The Political Year Strategy
By William Hartline

Introduction
A frequent complaint, heard especially from freshman members, is that U.S. Representatives must start their re-election campaigns almost as soon as they win their first election, because their next campaign is only two short calendar years away.
The corollary to this argument is Representatives are so geared toward pleasing their contributors, they tend to vote more often for things they otherwise wouldn't, if they had greater autonomy.  It hardly needs to be said, Representatives catering to their contributors instead of their country and their constituents leads to political expedience overtaking proper governance.
Indeed, like the rest of us, they only have so much available time--when members of Congress spend so much effort getting re-elected, they undoubtedly become pressured to delegate even more legislative authority over to bureaucrats of the alphabet agencies in the executive branch--who never face any election.
One could thereby argue giving members of Congress longer terms could allow them to keep more legislative authority within their own hands, to do what they were hired to do in the first place. In turn, longer terms may help to retain voter influence over the enactment of law and the imposition of regulations.
Review of Primary Constitutional Issues
This paper showcases a novel method for giving elected members of Congress four-times longer terms, by a simple legislative enactment. At the same time, it would extend the terms for the President and the Vice President of the United States equally as long.
Of course, the U.S. Constitution has a few things to say about the length of terms for members of Congress, the President and Vice President.  Thus, it is important to start by covering the pertinent clauses.
Article I, Section 2, Clause 1 expressly details that U.S. Representatives are to be chosen "every second Year."
Article I, Section 3, Clause 1, details that U.S Senators are chosen for "six Years."
And, Article II, Section 1, Clause 1 details that the President of the United States is to hold Office "during the Term of four Years," with the V-P "chosen for the same Term."
As an aside, U.S. Supreme Court justices hold their positions "during good Behaviour," according to Article III, Section 1 (which essentially has come to mean, "for Life").
While members of Congress suffer no sort of constitutionally-imposed term limits, the 22nd Amendment to the Constitution expressly limits the number of Presidential terms to two.
Given the words of the Constitution, it would appear--short of an amendment--there is no way to extend federal terms.
But, what if there was a way, without an amendment?
If there was a way to extend their terms by a simple legislative enactment, should government servants willingly extend their service?  This is the one question that The Political Year Strategy does not seek to answer, believing that answer is best left to We The People themselves, and their representatives, to discuss and answer.
In any such possible discussion, The Political Year Strategy seeks to highlight a number of issues that should be considered, as it outlines a simple method for elected federal servants to serve four times longer terms, without having to propose and ratify a new constitutional amendment.
Review of Secondary Constitutional Issues
The Political Year Strategy centers upon the legislative discretion members of Congress are given in two clauses of the U.S. Constitution (one relating to members of Congress and the other for Presidents and Vice Presidents).
The first passage under consideration is found in Article I, Section 4, which discusses the scheduling and holding of federal elections for members of Congress.  Clause 1 details:
"The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof; but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Regulations, except as to the Places of chusing Senators."
The Constitution, in Article II, Section 1, Clause 4, also details:
"The Congress may determine the Time of chusing1 the Electors and the Day on which they shall give their Votes; which Day shall be the same throughout the United States."
Primary Discussion
To begin an examination into extending the federal terms without an amendment, it is important to look first at Article I, Section 4, as Clause 1 specifically empowers members to "make or alter...Regulations" pertaining to "The Times" and "Manner" of "holding Elections for Senators and Representatives."
Please note the rest of the clause specifically prohibits members of Congress from changing the polling "Places" designated by the State Legislatures themselves (to keep Congress from fatiguing the voters into compliance, by making them travel great distances to vote).
However, no other prohibitions are listed.
By listing one express prohibition, but omitting any other, it is presumed that no other prohibitions or limitations are expressly meant, including an express prohibition or exception from any day or date being chosen as the day or date specified for federal elections.
It is also important to realize Article II, Section 1 explicitly gives members of Congress the named power to determine "the Time of chusing the [presidential] Electors, and the Day on which they shall give their Votes, which Day shall be the same throughout the United States."
By these two cited clauses, the Constitution gives to Congress the discretion and power to choose a day or date for federal elections, for members of Congress and also for Presidents and Vice Presidents, without any other express prohibition.
In conformance with that duty and honor, on January 23, 1845 (5 Stat. 721), Congress specified "the Tuesday next after the first Monday in the month of November" of pertinent election years as the day appointed for choosing Electors to elect the President and Vice President.  This day has also been since used for electing U.S. Senators and U.S. Representatives (and State candidates, which are not here necessarily relevant [but could be included]).
The 1845 Act has been minorly amended, but the same simple discretion by which members of Congress chose that particular day as Election Day may be used to determine another.
* * *
The Political Year Strategy suggests members of Congress consider choosing February 29th as the date for future elections.
* * *
The inevitable effect of choosing February 29th as the date for federal elections would be the creation of a new "Political Year."
The Political Year would come to be defined as the amount of time that passes until the date chosen for federal elections again shows up on the calendar.
Thereafter, and thereby, this new Political Year would be the type of year used to determine the length of congressional and presidential terms, equal in time to one "Leap Year."
Choosing February 29th as the date for federal elections would necessarily alter the frequency of elections.
Assuming members of Congress pick February 29th as the date for federal elections, after the November 3, 2020 elections, then the next time February 29th rolls around-2024--then [only] one "Political Year" will have passed.
February 29th, 2028 would be two "Political Years" from the 2020 general election, or the time the 2020-elected U.S. Representatives thus need to run for re-election or new Representatives chosen.  February 29, 2028 would also mark the election for the class of U.S. Senators who would have otherwise been up for re-election in 2022.
In accordance with the 20th Amendment, the terms of 2020-elected U.S. Representatives and pertinent-third of U.S. Senators would end on January 3rd that follows the election, at noon.
February 29th, 2036 would be four "Political Years," or the time for the next Presidential election, after the 2020 election.  The term for the 2020-elected President would end on January 20th, at noon, 2037, also by the command of the 20th Amendment (being the next January 20th following the most-recent Presidential election).
February 29th, 2036 would also be the re-election date for the second-third of U.S. Senators, who would have otherwise been up for re-election in 2024. 2036 would also see, of course, another election of Representatives.
And, February 29th, 2044 would be the date for electing the last class of U.S. Senators, who were chosen in the 2020 election, ending their term the following January 3rd, 2045 (again according to the dictates of the 20th Amendment), ending the six "Political Year" term for those Senators.
While many people may initially object to the holding of a "Political Year" as the length of time until the date used for federal elections again shows up on the calendar, this isn't much different from the "Calendar Year" being the passage of time for every other date appearing on the calendar.
Indeed, January 1, 2021 is but one [calendar] year after the previous January 1 (2020).  Specifying a "Political Year" to be the length of time from one February 29th until the next is not inherently different, so long as federal law designates the election date to be the applicable standard involved in determining the passage of one Political Year, for the express political purposes regarding elections and term lengths.
It must be noted that the Constitution specifically leaves it up to Congress to determine the day or date used for federal elections, and for appointing Electors.  And, without any day or date being expressly prohibited from being chosen, then even February 29th must be considered within their discretion, since it is not expressly prohibited.
It is not as if the Framers of the Constitution, or those who ratified it, didn't know of the concept of Leap Years, after all.
Leap Years go back to the time even before Christ.  In 46 B.C., Julius Caesar put into his famed calendar--his Julian Calendar--a Leap Year every fourth year.
And, it is not as if the U.S. Supreme Court hasn't redefined words and phrases found in the Constitution, at will.
For instance, in 1942, the Supreme Court, in Wickard v. Filburn (317 U.S. 111), held that wheat grown and consumed on the same farm may nevertheless be federally regulated, even though the Constitution only empowers Congress to regulate interstate Commerce ("Commerce among the States").  That the particular activity was neither "interstate" [but intrastate] nor "commerce" [but merely a crop grown and used on one farm] didn't seem to enter into the equation.
Another example, found in the 1871 The Legal Tender Cases Supreme Court decision, in a concurring opinion, all but bragged that the 1819 McCulloch v. Maryland Court reinterpreted "necessary and proper" to mean only "convenient."
Of course, "general Welfare" is another phrase of the Constitution that has come to reach even its opposite meaning (to the specific detriment of the many, for the decided advantage of the few or one).
So, if the Court can reinterpret some words and phrases of the Constitution, what is stopping them or Congress from reinterpreting other words and phrases?
In reality, if the Court can justify hundreds of decisions within their seemingly inherent discretion as they have long done in the past, then there is little or nothing stopping Congress and the Court from now reinterpreting "Year" as found in the Constitution, for term lengths and elections, to being a special type of year--a "Political Year"--at least once the date for federal elections has been designated within a congressional Act, as February 29th.
The Calendar Year, of course, can be left to mean the normal 12-month passage of time, for all other purposes, including minimum ages for Representatives, Senators, Presidents, and voters, meeting times for Congress, appropriations, and federal pay, for example.
Secondary Discussions
Given the far-reaching implications and perhaps initial resistance to the redefining of a "Year" to be a Political Year, it is proper to go beyond a cursory discussion of the principles involved.
In Section V of this strategy paper, it is therefore appropriate to dig more deeply into such matters, to show no new ground is actually being plowed in the redefining the term "Years," as found in the Constitution, for term lengths and elections, as compared with reinterpreting other words and phrases.
a.  Political Years v. Calendar Years.  
Perhaps the first matter to investigate more deeply is the creation of a special type of year, a "Political Year," different from the "Calendar Year."
A comparison with the First Amendment is helpful in this discussion.  The pertinent words of this amendment plainly declare that Congress "shall make no law...abridging the freedom of speech..."
Yet, the Court has long given different qualifications and differing standards for regulating or allowing various types of "speech."  For example, "commercial" speech is held to a much lower standard of judicial review than "political" speech (allowing far greater government restrictions on commercial speech).
If "speech" can be parsed out into different types with differing standards, what difference is there in the creation of differing types of "Years" - Political Years versus Calendar Years?
In truth, there is no material difference in holding different types of years to differing standards than different types of speech--the Constitution only details "Years," just like it only details "speech."
What has been allowed elsewhere may thus be allowed here.
b. Daylight Savings Time.
Congress enacted the Uniform Time Act of 1966 setting a uniform standard for States to follow regarding Daylight Savings Time (the "springing forward" of clocks one hour in the spring and "falling back" in the fall, to maximize daylight in the evenings when more people are out and about).
If Congress may enact a law regarding the altering of time by an hour, what difference is there, in principle, to altering the allotted time members of Congress and the President and Vice President may serve, according to their terms designated by a number of [different types of] years?
In truth, once one accepts the premise of the altering of time for any purpose, one opens the door for other purposes also.  Once one accepts the principle of altered time to even the smallest extent, one must accept the principle of altering time to a greater extent.
What has been allowed elsewhere may be allowed here.
c. "Day" vs. "Date"
Article II, Section 1, Clause 4 specifically details that "The Congress may determine the Time of chusing the Electors, and the Day on which they shall give their Votes; which Day shall be the same throughout the United States."
Does that mean members of Congress may only designate Election Day to be a particular "Day"--like the Tuesday that follows the first Monday in November, for example?  Does that foreclose Congress from picking a specific "Date"--like February 29th?
People who would argue this point miss the different wording found in Clause 4 pertaining to the passage of time.  The choosing of Electors points to the election itself and here the clause specifically only points to "Time"--which can be either "Day" or "Date.
The wording about "the Day on which [the Electors] shall give their Votes" points to the day when the Electoral Votes are counted in Congress--which is currently in January (the Electors meet in their respective States in December and then forward their votes for counting to the Seat of Government, directed to the President of the Senate).  The Political Year Strategy doesn't necessarily care when the Electoral Votes are counted.  The day which the votes are counted can remain the same, or moved to a day or date closer to the [earlier] election.
Of course, Article II simply points to the Electoral process used for choosing the President and Vice President.
It is Article I, Section 4, Clause 1 that discusses the choosing of U.S. Senators and U.S. Representatives.  It is pertinent to note that this clause also discusses only "Time" regarding the electing of members of Congress, saying: 
"The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof; but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Regulations, except as to the Places of chusing Senators."
Since "Time" pertains equally to either "Day" or "Date," neither Article I nor Article II forecloses members of Congress from picking February 29th to be the date for federal elections.
d.  Inauguration Day
The Twentieth Amendment specifies that:
"The terms of President and Vice President shall end at noon on the 20th day of January, and the terms of Senators and Representatives at noon on the 3rd day of January, of the years in which such terms would have ended if this article had not been ratified; and the terms of their successors shall then begin."
Since this amendment uses the like term "years" to determine the affected year for terms to end, then the new Political Year created by a legislative Act that designates February 29th as the date for federal elections may easily conform also to the Twentieth Amendment.
Thus, the Twentieth Amendment does not foreclose extending federal elected terms, after February 29th is chosen as the date for elections.
Of course, with Elections being on February 29th, but the terms not ending for another 10 or 11 months, the so-called "Lame Duck" period would be lengthened.
Though hardly ideal, that it would only affect Representatives every two Political Years (eight calendar years), the President/VP every four Political Years (16 calendar years) and each class of Senators only every six Political Years (24 calendar years), meaning the issue should be only a minor inconvenience on relatively rare occasions.
e. Weekend Elections
Picking a particular "date" for federal elections means that the date will eventually fall on a weekend (which picking of a "Day" otherwise necessarily avoids).
It should be noted that February 29th will fall on a weekend only five times over the next century (on a Saturday, in 2048 and 2116, and on a Sunday, in 2032, 2060, and 2088), but none of them are even Presidential Election Years (which would take place, after 2020, in 2036, 2052, 2068, 2084, 2104 [there is no Leap Year in 2100 {being a century mark, not divisible by 400}, giving incumbents that term a bonus four calendar years], and 2120).
That election workers may have to work on the weekend five times in 100 years shouldn't preclude choosing February 29th as the date for federal elections.  Weekends--even Sundays--hardly hold the historically-once-relevant [religious] significance they once did.
Conclusion
There can be no question that members of Congress have the discretion to pick another day or date for federal elections, beyond the current standard set in place 175 years ago--the Tuesday after the first Monday in November.
With no express words found in the Constitution barring members from choosing any day or date for federal elections, including February 29th, members of Congress may enact a new law specifying the date for federal elections, including February 29th.
With enactment of this simple law, the terms for Representatives may become two Political Years, or eight calendar years; the terms for Presidents' and Vice Presidents' may become four Political Years, or 16 calendar years; and the terms for Senators may become six Political Years, or 24 calendar years.
   §§
   Lost in her thoughts, Nancy read through the paper again, this time highlighting key words and phrases. When she looked up again, she'd been analyzing the paper for three hours and had read through the color-coded passages two more times.
   There seems to be something wrong here so basic it couldn't ever be implemented, she thought. But when the author here, Hartline, compares it to other words in the Constitution the Supreme Court reinterpreted long ago, how can it really be any different than what has already been done in the past?
   If justices over the years changed the meaning of "necessary and proper," "general Welfare," "Commerce," etc., why couldn't they also change "Year?"
   I don't know the Constitution like this guy, but if anyone-and I mean anyone-in authority decides to chase this rabbit, we are going to have a full-blown political tsunami on our hands.
   She ran her tongue along her bottom lip. Geez, what if this gets some steam behind it? And, why wouldn't it? Corporations have different years-calendar years vs. fiscal years. The First Amendment protects all "speech" without division, but the Supreme Court has divided "speech" into "political speech" with great protections and "commercial speech" with less protections. So, if they may divide "speech," why not "Year?"
   Especially the party in power would jump at this outlandish plan-after all, it would keep them in influence for a very long time.
   But, wouldn't the individual members of the minority party still want to drink from the same well, too? Even if the tactic wasn't particularly favorable to their party currently in the minority, it is only the individual members who seek re-election, not the party. Wouldn't these individuals still prefer to be there, even if only in the minority, then risk it all and lose an election? Being assured of a job in the minority was still so much better than being tossed out of the game, politically.
    "If I were in the Senate, I'd love a chance to hold my seat for twenty-four calendar years without ever having to worry about re-election," Nancy said out loud. And every congressman I've ever met complains continuously about being "on the circuit" all the time, in never-ending election cycles that start as soon as the last one ended.
   No one she knew in either the Traditionalist or Unionist parties-and she knew a lot-would pass on a chance to extend his or her individual term, even if their party wasn't in the majority, unless they were retiring. And, even if a member was planning on retiring at the end of their term, how many members would stay a few extra years, if they didn't have to face an election to stay on?
   The savings in terms of time, effort, and money for everyone involved would be significant. And-the icing on the cake-there'd never be any chance of an election loss during an extended term. 
   Even if members in the minority were coerced by their party into speaking out against the strategy in public, every single one of them would still secretly want it to pass for themselves. They'd likely sell their own mothers for a chance to stay in power for a four-times longer term, without risk of an election loss.
   Nancy wondered about Hartline and his motives.
   He's not a national political figure, nor is he even likely high in State politics, or I'd probably recognize the name, she thought. Is "Will Hartline" even his real name? He must be seeking a direct ticket to the top of national politics, if it is his real name.
   What Nancy did not know was soon a lot of people in town would be asking the same questions. When Will didn't arrive immediately and attempt to collect for his pre-loaded political favors, no one knew what to make of the conundrum known as Will Hartline.

Chapter 5
   Traditionalist President Franklin Trapp stared at the document in front of him, but hadn't read it-he had a whole army of staff, for such menial tasks.
   "Is this some sort of a joke?" he asked of his Chief of Staff. "I've got better things to do on a Monday afternoon than waste my time on the wild theories of some crackpot."
   The President wasn't angry about the strategy. After all, he was likely its biggest beneficiary, since he was young enough to enjoy the remainder of what would amount to a 16-year political term.
   What unsettled the President so much was being blindsided by something so powerful. He and his staff-representing the most powerful and well-connected men and women in the history of the world-were yet seemingly among the last people to hear about the revolutionary policy paper.
   These movers and shakers had heard nothing about the strategy until it worked its way up from a county chairman, of a State on the other side of the country, before making its way to the nation's capital, some seven weeks later.
   Something this powerful should have come from within, from the top, where it could have been kept quiet until fully vetted. His staff could have then worked out all the kinks, to their greatest personal advantage, and then push it forward, on their schedule.
   No, he didn't like being blindsided. He preferred the status quo, to disconcerting surprise, even if the surprise otherwise promised to be pleasing to him both personally and professionally. After all, not every surprise turned out to be pleasing in the end, even if it appeared beneficial at first.
   Darrel Atwater, short, squat, and perpetually angry with everyone except his boss, said, "Not as far as I know, Mr. President. The paper is dated seven weeks ago. Who knows who has seen it, before us."
   "How are we some of the last people to know?" asked the President. "We should have been the first to have it. I don't like playing catch up. We don't want to react-we need to lead. Mistakes are made when we don't keep out front.
   "What I want to know is where did it come from and why did it take so long for us to get a copy? And, how did you say we even got it?"
   "I don't know the full story," Atwater began. "All I know at this point is Nancy Johnson gave it to me nearly an hour ago. It's attributed to some guy by the name of Will Hartline, if you believe it to be his real name, who may be from Washington State. Nancy hadn't heard of him, and she seems to remember everyone who's anyone in politics."
   "Now there's the biggest bunch of hooey I've ever heard," President Trapp said. "This has Fitzhugh Compton's fingerprints all over it."
   Atwater shook his head. "I don't think so, sir," he said. "As soon as I read it, I called the Senate Minority Leader. He denies any involvement. Besides, why would he spring it now when his party is in the minority?"
   "You talked to him personally or his little weasel of an assistant?"
   "I spoke with the Minority Leader himself. Mr. President, I don't like the man's politics, but he has never flat out lied to me before, to my knowledge. I would perhaps doubt his story, if he were the Majority Leader right now, because this does seem to be right up his alley. I think if it were his, he'd have waited until the Unionists were in power to release it, if he could have kept it quiet-which he could have, if it were his. After all, it's not like we sniffed this paper out on our own, and were able to trace it back to him or his staff."
   President Trapp raised his hands in growing exasperation. "For the love of Pete, please tell me this isn't some cockamamie idea from Andrew Carrier. Our party has enough issues as it is."
   Again, Atwater shook his head. "My second call, sir, was to the Senate Majority Leader, who hadn't even read it yet. One of his top aides is perusing it now while the Majority Leader is rushing back to his office to read his copy. He didn't even know what it was, beyond the name and the shortest of explanations of it. But, he promised he would call me as soon as he'd studied it."
   "You believe him?"
   Atwater waited until the President looked up. "Yes sir," Atwater said. "The man aspires to your chair, Mr. President. The last thing he's probably going to want to do is pull a stunt like this, even if his party is in power. I mean, think about it. He doesn't want anything to extend your personal time in office, Mr. President. If it were his, again, he'd also likely have waited until he was in your seat. Remember, this seems to have come from out west, not here in D.C."
   Trapp laughed. "Nice to know who your friends are," he said. "So, you are ready to believe some nobody in Washington State thought this pesky thing up-this (he looked down at the paper in front of him)...this...Hartline fellow?"
   "Could be random chaos theory," Atwater said. "You know, if you put a million chimps in front of keyboards, one of them will eventually compose Hamlet."
   After the back-and-forth dialogue continued for another ten minutes, Trapp slammed his hand on the Resolute Desk. "Not good enough. You tell me you think he has no party affiliation. You tell me you think he has no outside funding. You tell me you don't know if he has any political aspirations. I am not interested in what you think or don't know-I want to know, the whole story.
   "If this isn't some sort of set-up, it has real possibilities and I want to explore them all. Get to work, Atwater. I want you back in here with an update in two hours and a plan roughed out by mid-week. What I don't get, is how come this Hartline fellow-if there is such a man-didn't come to us, to offer his plan directly to us, privately.
   We could have heard it straight from the horse's mouth, and judge just what was his angle and see what he wants for giving it to us."
   "Yes sir. I agree," Atwater said. "But, I'm not sure he wants anything from us since we already have it. If he does want something, he sure put himself in a terrible bargaining position for it, unless he's simply throwing himself at our mercy. Why would he give us such a powerful strategy, when we would have traded significant political favors for it, at least if we knew it was going to be so compelling?"
   "And bring your little attack dog with you," the President said, who heard nothing of Atwater's last comment. "I want to find out why it took so long for us to find out about this strategy, after it was written. We need to know who had this first, and why they didn't get us a copy sooner."
   §§
   Bert Maples-Atwater's "attack dog"-was a handsome younger man of slight stature, impeccably dressed. He seldom took his eyes off his phone screen, but he heard and remembered most everything anyone near him ever said, except what he chose to block out through a filter mechanism well-adapted to sniff out anything even remotely relevant. Maples was recklessly ambitious and ruthlessly effective. He had the reputation as someone who got things done, which was why, at age thirty-five, he was the number one special assistant to the number one assistant of the nation's "Number One." 
   His politics could best be described as "expedient." He had a chameleon-like ability to blend into whatever environment surrounded him and always leaned in the policy direction of the most powerful person in the room. Long ago Maples decided he would work with anyone who could help him fulfil the ambition he'd set for himself in the fourth grade-the Office of the Presidency.
   Maples later came to realize he was much more effective as a behind-the-scenes type of guy, who worked best under the radar. He never really had any chance at the spotlight, once so many questionable rumors began floating around about him. Now, he had way too many skeletons in his closet, even to be subjected to the scrutiny one needed to run for a legislative seat or to seek a position needing Senate confirmation.
   Insiders had heard Atwater's assessment of the young adult more than once. "Bert Maples is valuable, but if we ever fell in a hole, he'd only use me to climb his way out, where he'd simply walk off and forget who or where I was, if doing so could advance himself half-an-inch." 
   President Trapp looked up and tapped on the document with his pen. "So, how would this work?" he asked. "I mean, this seems a little too good to be true."
   "We can get this through the House, Mr. President," Atwater said-"no problem. The Senate may be more of another issue."
   "Why?" the President asked, even as his Chief of Staff didn't really address his question. Not wanting to sound lost, the President merely went along with his Chief of Staff's current line of thought. "We have a 50-50 split in the Senate. With the VP as a tiebreaker, we should have it in the bag."
   "Well," Atwater said, "we've got a few Senators who don't just go with the flow. You know, they make a lot of unctuous language about 'voting the conscience.' You just never know with something like this, where some of these characters will end up. This thing is mighty big."
   "I hate it when politicians act like they have souls," the President said. "If we can't show all these knuckleheads how this is in their own best interests, we should all go home and cower our heads in shame. I'm more worried about the American people, who seem increasingly touchy the last few years, maybe even like they're readying themselves to revolt. What makes you think we won't have a full-scale revolution on our hands once they catch wind of this?"
   Atwater rubbed his hands together, ever the pragmatist. "The people don't have anything to do with it, Mr. President. The date of federal elections is already an express matter the U.S. Constitution specifically vests with Congress," Atwater said. "I believe we can build bipartisan support for this, just working our deals behind the scenes."
   "How? We can't get them to agree about which brand of mayonnaise they like on their sandwiches."
   Maples put his phone in his pocket. "Because, sir, everyone will quickly realize that we are going to get this thing rammed through both Houses and get it enacted, without you even having to raise your pen. All the current players-including you-will be in power for a very long time.
   "If these characters want any relevance over the long haul, they'll have to play ball with us. We whisper often enough in the right peoples' ears, and everyone on Capitol Hill will begin to think they will be able to serve seemingly forever."
   "Okay," President Trapp said. "I'm just a few months into my first term. I'm sixty-two. Like you said, I believe I'll win my next election, so I had figured I'd be out of here when I'm seventy. Under this plan, I will be seventy-eight-at the end of my first term. If reelected, by the middle of my second term, I could be wandering the halls in my pajamas. I'd like to be sharp enough to know what's going on."
   Wandering and wondering like you do now, Maples thought, but he kept his face straight and said, "You'll be fine, sir. We can position you to have influence even if you lose your physical stamina. Your staff here is quite competent, and perhaps we'd have something along the lines of, let's say, a more-ah-cooperative Vice President."
   "The VP represents an important constituency," President Trapp said. "Probably wouldn't have won without his home state."
   "Well," Maples said, "things can always come to light to change a person's popularity. Would you like me to expound?"
   Trapp stood and walked to the window. "Absolutely not," he said. "And I don't want anything done-at least yet. Understand?"
   "Yes sir, Mr. President."
   "How come none of you geniuses ever came up with this strategy?" the President asked, while beginning to dream of a prolonged Trapp dynasty. "I keep telling everyone how bright you are, but then some backwater hick comes up with this plan, all on his own, evidently. What's his name again?" 
   "Hartline-Will Hartline."
   Atwater's eyes took on a maniacal gleam. "Due respect, Mr. President, if this comes to fruition, I think the best scenario would be for you to jettison the current VP for your second term, then step down just past halfway of your second term. As you said, you'd be 78 when you're even up for re-election and probably not far off for a well-deserved break from the pressure.
   "At 86 years of age, you would have long-before hand-picked your successor, maybe even someone within your own family. You turn things over-to one of your children, perhaps-just after the half-way point of your second term. Your VP may then fill out the remainder of your term, but it wouldn't count towards their own two-term limit, under the Twenty-Second Amendment.
   "They will sit in your office long enough for everyone to think of them as the President. Then, your successor could again step down again just after the half-way point in their second term, to repeat the process over and over, always to elect another family member. Elections could amount to re-electing incumbents, into perpetuity.
   "Given how hard it is to unseat an incumbent, your family would easily rule-I mean, serve-the country for 50 or 100 years. It would be the greatest political dynasty in American history."
   A sneer broke across Maples' face. "No one would ever mention the Kennedys again."
   The President, staring out his window, already was lost in his private thoughts, as he contemplated the most fantastic words he had ever heard in his life.
   Darrel Atwater and Bert Maples quietly slipped out of the Oval Office once they realized they had begun invading the President's privacy.
   §§
   An hour later Atwater ran through his final instructions for Maples. "Get yourself out to Washington State and find this Hartline fellow. I want to know everything there is to know about him-shirt size, marriages, girlfriends, what brand of beer he drinks, his favorite sports team, his tax records, whether he has wooden teeth-I mean everything. I especially want to know his vulnerabilities and weaknesses. And, of course, find all the bodies he has buried in his backyard or basement."
   "Yes sir."
   Darrel Atwater had picked the perfect man for the job; nevertheless, that didn't stop Atwater from hollering out as Maples was walking to the door-"Get it all-or don't bother coming back!" 
   


Chapter 6
   I thought Iowa was remote when I was at the primaries, Bert Maples said to himself as his rented Lexus bounced down the gravel road leading to the shop at Farwell Farms. The woman in the office adjacent to the expansive farm house had been polite but guarded when he'd asked for Will. After Bert convinced her that he wasn't there to haul Will off to the slammer for something he did or wrote, she'd pointed him towards the shop.
   "You might want to take it easy in your fancy car," she said. 
   "It'll be fine," Bert said, not caring about an insured rental car, even as he soon wished he'd rented an SUV-or an armored personnel carrier.
   Bert drove up to the shop where his car was the only vehicle that wasn't a pickup, truck, or tractor. When he stepped out, he heard a husky voice.
   "Help you, Mister?"
   "Looking for Mr. Hartline," Bert said. "I'm Bert Maples. I work for the President." He decided it was easier to skip a few steps and not mention the Chief of Staff.
   "President of what?" The speaker was a block of a man-six foot, four and a solid 240 pounds. "I'm Phil Farwell. My sister Laura Dorning and I are the third Farwell generation of to farm this land, with her husband Kyle and son Greg now helping out."
   Bert grasped the man's extended-and significantly calloused-hand and got a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Farwell."
   "President of what?" Phil asked again.
   "The President-of the United States-President Franklin Trapp." He held out his government ID.
   Farwell studied it. "Will in some sort of trouble?" he asked.
   "No, nothing of the sort," Bert said. "In fact, I think he's about to become something of a celebrity. He's written something quite interesting."
   Farwell burst into laughter before his guest could explain. "Ol' Will writes a lot of interesting things," he said. "Just not a lot of people read them-but, Mister, if you think Will Hartline is about to become a celebrity, you have obviously never met the man." 
   "Well, I'd like to," Bert said. "Can you point me to him?"
   "Not only can I," Farwell said, "I will. He's over there."
   He pointed to the west. In the distance, Bert saw a cloud of dust wafting up behind something dark moving slowing across the field. He narrowed his eyes.
   "It's a tractor, Mister-ah-"
   "Maples," Bert said. "Bert Maples."
   Maples was more accustomed to people falling all over themselves when he mentioned his name or at least his position. Farwell was obviously unimpressed, if not indifferent; Maples couldn't figure out if his host was simple or just uninformed.
   "Well," Farwell said, "despite all the billowing dust suggesting otherwise, the field's not 100% dry. There may be pockets of moisture out there where you'd sink your fancy shoes in muck after wading through acres of dust.
   "I figure it just doesn't make much sense to pay a thousand dollars for fancy foot apparel in farm country, unless you're talking about custom-made work boots worn 16 or 18 hours a day, which I understand."
   "Well, in Washington, it's important to make a good impression," Bert said suddenly conscious of his BVLGARI watch.
   "No use hiding your fancy timepiece either," Farwell said. "But, I'd be happy to lend you a pair of muck boots if you'd like-I could probably find a pair near your size in the shop." 
   I'm not about to wear this chucklehead's boots, Bert thought. I work out every day. I can make it-no problem. 
   As if reading Bert's mind, Farwell said. "He's about three-quarters of a mile at the closest point. Probably take you 20 minutes, if you don't have any problems. But, you'll surely mess up your pretty suit, something awful.
   Bert subconsciously bit the inside of his lip. "Perhaps you could call Mr. Hartline and ask him to come in, so I could speak with him-or maybe I could even have his phone number?
   Farwell laughed even harder, this time. "If you want to talk to him, you're gonna need to tromp out there and flag him down, because Will Hartline doesn't own a cell phone."
   "Who doesn't have a cell phone these days?" Bert asked, even as he suddenly recalled reading several newspaper stories of Will's DC Tractor Drive that mentioned Will didn't own a cell phone. "I've seen bums all over D.C. who have cell phones, although for the life of me, I don't know how they charge the batteries.
   "Although Will may be found in this century, he seems to live largely in the 18th. You just have to meet him to understand," Phil said.
   "How do you get ahold of him when you need him if he doesn't have a phone?" Bert asked.
   "We schedule things with him ahead of time, like everyone used to do, before we all got so busy. If something important comes up, we drive to the end of the field he's heading towards, and wait for him to reach us. But, I wouldn't suggest you take your fancy car out to the field."
   Bert waited for a moment to see if Phil would volunteer to flag down Will and bring him back to the shop so Bert could talk with him. Phil either didn't pick up on the clue or didn't volunteer.
   Inadvertently, Bert grumbled, under his breath. "Don't want him wasting time on your dime, it appears."
   Farwell not only heard Bert, but he also seemed to grow as he inched closer to the visitor. "Mister, you act like you seem to think we're a bunch of fools out here. Neither do I care if you think you're too good to put on another man's pair of boots. But, I'm not gonna stand here and let you suggest a man as fine as Will Hartline would ever waste my, or anyone else's, time. He's as fine of man as I've ever had the privilege to know."
   Phil took a step back when he realized Bert had quit breathing. "If you want to talk to him, swallow your considerable Washington arrogance and walk out there to meet him or wait here, until he comes in.
   "Or, head out of here and turn right at the end of the drive. Slater's Store will be on the left in less than five miles. They'll have everything you need. Then you can meet Will Hartline, if you want."
   "Much appreciated," Bert said, not really understanding how his usual tactics didn't seem to work out west. "Thanks."
   He was about to shut his car door when Farwell shouted at him. "Hope you have cash or a check, because they don't take American Express." 
   

Chapter 7
   Bert exited Slater's wearing jeans, a flannel work shirt, cowboy boots, and a ball cap. They weren't really in the sticks as much as Phil inferred with his parting comment. Slater's may not have taken American Express, but they did take VISA and Mastercard. Bert glided to a halt back at the farm just before noon.
   "He's coming in," Farwell said with a slight laugh, after Bert had gone to all the trouble of suiting up to plod out to see Will.
   "You tell him I was here?" Bert asked.
   "Nope-he's heading towards the diesel tank to refuel. He may grab food from the fridge, but he will head back out soon enough."
   Bert watched a chunky, balding, bearded man slide from the tractor cab and land in some obvious discomfort. The man limped to the fuel pump and began pumping off-road diesel.
   "You Hartline?" Bert asked, after walking over to the pump.
   "Who wants to know?" Will asked. "You can't be a bill collector since I don't owe any money. So, if you're trying to sell me something I don't need, you are wasting your time. And mine."
   Bert extended his hand. "Bert Maples. I work for the President's Chief of Staff." He was a little more accurate with his present introduction since his current listener stood a better chance of meeting his bosses than the previous man.
   "President?" Will asked.
   "President Franklin Trapp," Bert said. "He's President of the United States if you haven't heard."
   Bert threw in this little jab to show who was going to lead this conversation. He again waited for the usual gushing response, or some sign of acceptance of Bert's terms. Instead, Will turned his attention to the fuel tank. "Gotta be careful," he said. "This nozzle doesn't always shut off like when you're filling a car at a gas station."
   "Mister-Mister Hartline," Bert said coming down a little from his high horse. After all, if he failed his special mission, it would be his neck on the line with his boss, not Hartline's. Still, he was quite confident Will must ultimately want something from him every bit as much as he wanted something from Will. 
   "Everyone calls me Will."
   "Ah, Will, I'm here at the behest of the President to talk to you about something called The Political Year Strategy. Ever heard of it?"
   "Yes," Will said.
   "How did you hear of it?"
   "I wrote it."
   "On behalf of?"
   Will shook his head. "Not sure what you mean, sir. On my behalf, I guess."
   "Perhaps I wasn't clear," Bert said. "Who are you working for?"
   Will pointed towards Farwell. "For him-at least until the plowing season is over in a few days."
   Bert felt the pulse in his neck beginning to throb. He stepped towards Will. "Listen, Mister Hartline or whatever your name is, you know and I know you did not write The Political Year Strategy. Obviously, someone, somewhere, put you up to claiming its authorship-although for the life of me, I don't know why they'd ever think you could pull off being the author."
   Will held up a palm. "Sir, I know everyone in D.C. is super smart, Ivy League educated, and ridiculously well-connected. But believe it or not, you are not the only people on the Lord's beautiful earth who know how to read or write. I wrote the paper-I can quote it if you'd like."
   Bert scowled. "Where did you study law?"
   "Didn't," Will said.
   "Where did you attend college?"
   "I occasionally take extension courses at the local community college-stuff about farming and equipment repair, but I don't have a degree. Oh, I did take an art class once-glassblowing. We worked most of the quarter setting up the shop, building the kiln, the benches, and similar setup work. I was able to make a small warped pitcher at the tail end of the class, even though I intended it to be a mug. Still have it, decades later."
   "Well, I don't see-"
   "Ever been in a tractor, sir?" Will asked, ever the courteous fellow.
   Bert took a step back. "What does a tractor have to do with our conversation?"
   "If you want to continue talking, you'll have to come with me because I have to get back to work," Will said, pulling the tractor into the discussion.
   Bert seemed at a loss for words, and how to control the conversation when Will asked, "You work in government, right?"
   "I do."
   "And what is the purpose of the government?"
   "To lead the American people--"
   Will smiled. "Pardon the further interruption, Mr. Maples, but if you're going to serve people, or even 'lead them' as you suggest, wouldn't it make some sense to have some idea of what a lot of your flock do? Like people who work with tractors?"
   "Not my style, Mr. Hartline. I'm not the outdoors type-well, I play golf and enjoy a little deep-sea fishing, but don't do a lot (he waved the back of his hand towards the field) of what you are doing here."
   "Mr. Maples, are you competitive?"
   "Been known to play a little ten-dollar Nassau with my golf foursome on Saturdays at Congressional. And, in case you forgot, I work in D.C. So, of course, I am competitive."
   "Well, Mr. Maples, I'm not much of a gambler, but I like a little competition from time to time. Tell you what-let's play a little game to speed things along."
   "Which is?"
   "You ask me about any section of the Constitution, or ask me to quote from it, if you prefer. If I get it wrong, I'll sit here for the rest of the afternoon if you want and discuss the paper."
   "And if you get it right?"
   "You take your shiny new boots and climb up in the tractor with me while we talk, so I can get back to work, as the guy over there is paying me to do."
   Bert thought about it, smiled, and said, "Okay. I'm not asking anything easy."
   "Go. Whenever you are ready."
   "Okay," Bert said. "I've got it...what's Article Four?"
   Will smiled. "Full Faith and Credit..." 
   "I'll stop you right there," Bert said, interrupting Will. "This was easier than I thought. You missed it. The Fourth deals with unreasonable searches and seizures. I hear it cited against me time and again from people trying to keep me from searching through their stuff. They claim I shouldn't and even can't search their place without a warrant, yet I do all the time and no court has ever admonished me for it yet."
   Will laughed loudly enough for Phil Farwell's head to snap up from the logbook he was reviewing and look over at them.
   "No sir," Will said. "You're discussing the Fourth Article  in Amendment, but you asked about the Fourth Article. And it reads, and I quote, 'Full Faith and Credit shall be given in each State to the public Acts, Records, and judicial Proceedings of every other State. And the Congress may by general Laws prescribe the Manner in which such Acts, Records, and Proceedings shall be proved, and the Effect thereof.' Clause 1 of Section 2 reads..." Will continued, as he took Bert by the arm and began leading him towards the tractor..."'The Citizens of each State shall be entitled to all Privileges and Immunities of Citizens in the several States'. Clause 2 reads: 'A Person charged in any State with Treason, Felony, or other Crime'-"
   "Stop, stop, stop," Bert said. He held up both hands, palms forward. "Okay, okay-you win," as he said to himself-I just hope I don't fall while I'm crawling up into this beast.
   "Have you ever driven a tractor, Mr. Maples?" Will asked again since Bert never actually answered his earlier question. "If you have, you'll find one has a whole lot of otherwise free time on a tractor for all sorts of things, like contemplating world problems or even memorizing important documents. And now GPS means one doesn't even have to worry about steering out in the field anymore."
   "No," Bert answered.
   "Then, crawl in after me. I'll flip down the jump seat after I get in." 
   Will settled into the primary seat and cranked the engine. The machine roared to life. Bert sat down in the angled jump seat after climbing up the stairs without fail, which were so steep they were nearly a vertical ladder.
   "Nice machine," Bert said.
   "A lot better than the old days," Will said. When he shut the door, the cab was surprisingly quiet. "Not too many decades ago, we couldn't hear one another if we were screaming at each other at the top of our lungs, which could be irritated from gasping for breath through the diesel fumes."
   "What kind of tractor is this?" Bert asked. He felt something odd, a sensation he had not experienced in a long time. It was excitement.
   "John Deere 6210R. We've got this nice cab-climate controlled. Used to be one ate dust all summer while baking in the sun, but got wet in the rain and froze in the fall. Plus, you lost a little more of your hearing every hour of every day. Next, there were some rough tractor cabs, but now they are all fully sound insulated; there's AC and heat, and if you like, even nice stereo systems."
   Will pushed a button and the strains of Kate Smith singing God Bless America echoed through the small space. Will turned the music back off, put the tractor in gear, and circled towards the field.
   "This model is a few years old-one of the last years not requiring D.E.F."
   "What's D.E.F.?" Bert asked.
   "Diesel Exhaust Fluid. It burns off nitrous oxides for cleaner emissions, proponents say. People like you evidently think it's great, but the people who use it, don't. Not only does the emissions equipment add weight, which is a big issue for highway trucks, but it requires constant monitoring and all-too-frequent repair, which is a big concern both on-highway and off."
   Bert admired his surroundings while he ignored Will's little dig against bureaucrats that Will used to gauge Bert's reaction. Will wasn't against having a little fun at this particular guest's expense.
   The tractor boasted the traditional John Deere color scheme: bright green with yellow trim. Someone took great care of the machine. Except for multiple layers of dust, the tractor looked nearly new-dent free, pristine. 
   "Driver's seat looks comfy," Bert said.
   "Needs to be." Will spoke over his shoulder as he glanced at the plow he pulled behind him. "I'm in this seat as much as fifteen hours a day, six days a week for a month or two on end."
   "Mind if I ask how much?"
   "One hundred and fifty thousand for this one. The new ones cost much more."
   "Wow," Bert said. "Didn't know farmers made that much money."
   Will shook his head. "They don't. Farmers are typically deeply indebted. But, they need good equipment, or they can't keep up. If a farm has much downtime on an older tractor model in need of repair during planting, for instance, it could cost them their season by pushing crop growth too late to be able to harvest before the weather turns and destroys the crops. And that does not even broach the topic of difficulty getting parts these days, especially on older equipment.
   "These machines can really increase productivity, but that doesn't necessarily translate into farm profits, of having money left over after paying for everything involved. Profits always seem to get drained off back to D.C."
   Bert didn't acknowledge this "dig" either, but his eyebrows turned up and his mouth turned down, indicating he was nearing the end of the rope he was willing to extend, even if he did need information from Will.
   Will got back to the field and pulled in front of the harrow from which he had unhooked before lunch, to go get fuel, so he didn't have to drag more implements along. The harrow and packer hooked onto the back end of the plow, to smooth out the recently plowed ground, all in one pass. He backed the tractor and plow up to the harrow, stopping short of it.
   "Excuse me a minute, I just have to hook the harrow to the backend of the plow," Will said. "It will only take a minute."
   After getting back in the tractor, Will put the tractor in forward gear and turned perpendicularly into the field, driving his right-side tires into the open furrow, to lean the tractor into the long ditch running the length of the field. As he continued moving in the furrow, he pushed down the three-point control lever located under his right fingers to ease the plow into the ground. The tractor featured a five-bottom reversible swing-arm plow; the dirt slung out in one direction travelling down the field, and then the other direction on the way back.
   "Are you using GPS?" Bert asked.
   "I don't need global positioning right now," Will said. "I used it on the first pass. When one is pulling a plow in the furrow, the first cut is crucial-gotta be beeline straight for this farm. Afterwards, you just make sure to set the tires in the furrow and then try not to hit any buffalo."
   Bert swiveled his head from right to left and back. "You have buffalo out here?"
   Will chuckled. "City types fall for this one every time.
   "Next year, we will use GPS the whole time plowing because Phil and his brother-in-law Kyle are intending to buy a seven-bottom, on-land plow. My back won't get so tired from leaning continuously into the furrow, and they will get about forty percent more plowing done with each pass. Since there won't be any more furrow work for this tractor when I finish plowing in a few days, the farm will soon switch to dual rear tires on this tractor for less soil compaction." 
   The tractor bucked and bounced. Will leaned into the shakes like the veteran mogul skier he had been in his youth while Bert had to put his hand on the ceiling a few times for stability, but he got the hang of it after a few passes. 
   "Want to switch seats and drive?" Will asked. "It's more comfortable in this seat."
   Bert couldn't believe the enthusiasm in his own voice. "If you're serious, sure!" 
   Will made the hard left turn at the end of the field and drove a short distance out into a yet-to-be-plowed-area before looping back to the right and heading back to the headland. He pulled a lever to activate a hydraulic cylinder at the side of the plow to offset the harrow and packer he was pulling, now to the other side, to place them appropriately offset behind the plow, to prevent any gaps in smoothing out the recently plowed dirt. Continuing to hold the same lever swung the mainframe-the frame to which the five bottoms were attached-to angle the plow bottoms the other direction, to continue throwing the top 8-10" of dirt towards the last-cut furrow.
   One more hard turn to the right later and the left tires now settled into the furrow. Will throttled down and slipped the gear selector into Park after the tractor had come to a complete stop. He tilted the steering wheel up and out of the way before he stood up and scooted to the right, so Bert could slip into the driver's seat.
   After Bert got into the driver's seat, Will crossed over between Bert and the dash and eased into the jump seat.
   "Okay," Will said, "pull the small handle and then pull down the steering wheel to a comfortable position. Engage the clutch pedal with your left foot, then use your left hand to grab the selector knob-it's on the underside of the left side of the steering wheel. Take it out of Park and place it into the forward movement position. Keeping your foot on the pedal, grab the gear lever in your right hand, and push it forward until it hits the hard position first stop."
   Will's affable manner put Bert at ease. Will continued. "This particular tractor has an Infinitely Variable Transmission," he said. "It's a little like a hydrostatic transmission because it doesn't have a normal gear shifter like in an older tractor, physically linking the engine to set gears in the transmission and drivetrain. Push the throttle lever forward to increase the engine speed. If we continue to sit here, though, the engine will rev down automatically to an idle, until you start to let out the clutch pedal to move forward. Then the pull on the engine will bring back up the engine speed. Once you are ready, let out the clutch slowly before you begin to push down on the three-point hitch handle under your right hand to lower the plow into the ground smoothly."
   Bert eased out the clutch and the tractor began to move forward. He lowered the plow into the dirt when he remembered, about five feet too late.
   "You did great," said Will, even though he'd now have to make another perpendicular pass on the headland, once he finished plowing the main area of the field, to make sure dirt in every part of the field had been turned over. He immediately launched into instructions about the turn at the end of the field.
   "How fast are we going?" Bert asked after they got up to speed. He hoped Will didn't notice the nervousness in his voice. 
   "We're adjusted to 5.2 m.p.h.-a decent clip for plowing, in fact."
   "Won't win a lot of Indy races, though," Bert said, as he relaxed.
   "It would all depend on the race conditions," Will said. "Nothing but another tractor could beat us pulling this plow out here in this field, I guarantee you that. Cars would have difficulty out here even without pulling any implement since this ground was just disced yesterday, to knock down some wheat stubble. We'd beat them like the tortoise whipped the hare, pulling this plow.
   "Okay, the end will get here faster than you think. Let's run through the end-of-the-field routine again, so you know what to expect and what to do.
   "When you get near the end of the field, drop your speed to about two or three miles per hour by pulling back slowly on the speed control lever. You don't want to race into the turn. You'll have more time to do what you need to do when you need to do it. When I tell you, pull steadily back on the three-point control lever to ease the plow up and out of the ground. Got it?"
   "Got it." Bert's heart was pounding. Geez, I feel like a kid.
   Will went through the process from start to finish several more times in a calm and steady voice. As the end of the field grew closer, Bert felt his apprehension rising. 
   "Okay, notch your speed back a few miles per hour," Will said, sounding a little like the old recordings of Chuck Yeager, the notoriously calm-voiced test pilot. "You've got this."
   Although the tractor had slowed, everything suddenly seemed quite fast to Bert as he tried to complete several maneuvers almost at the same time. He pressed his left foot ever-so-slightly on the clutch, which he didn't need to do. The tractor stopped dead in its tracks since the plow was still fully engaged in the dirt. He let the clutch out too quickly because he hadn't meant to stop, and the tractor lurched forward as all four tires gripped into the dirt and the engine ramped back up, nearly throwing Will from his seat.
   "Easy does it, Bert," he said-his voice never grew above normal speaking levels. "Just pull back on the three-point lever to bring up the plow as you get moving again."
   Bert raised the plow and then made his turn. Will reminded him to shift the angle of the plow, and Bert pulled on the lever until the mainframe shifted fully into position. Nearing the furrow, Bert turned sharply back to his left and drove into the furrow with his right set of tires.
   "Now, continue forward, and ease the plow into the ground."
   Bert complied. 
   "There you go," Will said. "Nice job. You'll have this down in no time. Go ahead and push the speed control lever back to the stop position I have set for plowing."
   Bert was hopeful no one was watching his maiden voyage from the house, office, or shop.
   "Wow," he said, "this baby's nice. It pulls hard." 
   "It has 210 high-torque horsepower, geared for heavy pulling," Will said. "The Mechanical Front-Wheel Drive really improves traction, more than the rear tires pulling alone. If you look left at the next field-where I'll be tomorrow-you'll see an 8310R tractor, pulling a disc, with dual tires all around. It has 310 horsepower.
   "In the field on the right is an 8360RT rubber-tracked tractor with 360 horsepower. It's pulling the harrow roller and seedbed finisher. I was over there plowing yesterday. We don't need so much horsepower for the final step we use getting the ground ready to plant. But the machine has wide rubber tracks and low ground-pressure, which are great to keep from compacting the soil just ahead of the planter. So, we use the larger tractor, for the light job."
   "Incredible machines," Bert said.
   "Yes, they are," Will said. "And, if I had a chance to yank out the plug from the D.C. swamp, I'd use the 8360. With its horsepower and great traction, it can really pull. And, if it didn't work, I'd try and recruit one of the monstrous 400 or even 600-horsepower machines, Or, if need be, I'd get help from a big dozer or excavator, to make sure we'd get the job done. One must have the right tool for the job, after all."
   Bert stayed focused on his task as a frown enveloped his face, but Will's little jabs had taken their toll. "Now see there," Bert said, "your comment doesn't make sense to me-given your paper. You seem quite the strange contradiction. Out here, you hit me as a limited-government type of guy, but the author of this paper, now there's another thing entirely.
   "So, tell me, what gives with The Political Year Strategy? I've checked you out-as I'm sure you know and expect," Bert said.
   "I read about your D.C. tractor drive. There, I 'd have to peg you as quite anti-government, given what I read in your news coverage. So, what's up? Have you surrendered-if you can't beat us, are you seeking to join us? Do you intend your paper to serve as your tuition? Are you now looking to get your reward from us-an advanced degree, so to speak? I know some farmers are big-government types-are you looking to get some big government contracts for your farm?"
   Will didn't answer any of these questions. But he smiled. Never can hide what I'm thinking, Will thought to himself, knowing he'd be a lousy poker player. Will didn't even bother to clarify he was pro-government, just not a fan of everything passing for proper government these days. No sense giving up any real information at this point, he figured.
   Bert asked more questions. "Why would you ever write a paper offering your apparent adversaries everything they'd ever wish for, before they even asked for it? What are you trying to gain? You didn't copyright your paper or even attempt to negotiate with it. You let everyone or anyone take it, for their own profit.
   "You sit here 3,000 miles away, out in a field, on a tractor, plowing to your merry heart's content, no different from what I'd expect if you didn't write it. I don't get you or your motivation, if you did write it. What's your angle? Everyone has an angle."
   Will gave out a short laugh. "Anyone who wants my work or my ideas may have them. People may use my ideas or throw them away, as they see fit. I don't try to tell people what to do-I leave that for the people in Washington, like you and your bosses. And, this isn't my farm-as I said, I only work for Farwell Farms, and then only for a few months each year. You'd laugh, or cry, if you knew my annual income, even as I make decent pay for the few months I work." 
   "There you go again, right there, talking of 'government telling everyone what to do,'" said Bert, who didn't mention he had already seen Will's pitiful tax returns. "You write one thing but say another, if you are indeed the author. There's something off about you, if you did write the paper. You must have something up your sleeve, if you wrote it, because your written words do not follow your actions. I just can't put my finger on it, at least yet."
   "Things are rarely what they seem," Will said without direct comment on the duplicity in government that was tearing apart the country. "I wholeheartedly agree distrust and hidden agendas are horrible. Rest assured all my efforts for the past thirty years have been to help eliminate false appearances and to bring full consistency and transparency back into vogue. It is time to call a spade a spade."
   Bert plowed two more rounds, doing well on the turns and transitions, but Will didn't offer any more insight into his reasons for writing the paper or seek to explain his own recent duplicity.
   The two men parted with a handshake. After walking back to his car, Bert spent the rest of the day and the next, trying to learn more from area residents about the enigma called Will Hartline. 
   §§
   Darrel Atwater's eyes remained on his papers when Bert entered.
   "How was the trip?" Atwater asked, even though he was only interested in Bert's assigned task.
   "Met some interesting people," Bert said. "I also drove a tractor. Did you know-"
   Atwater looked up, with a stern look on his face. Bert wished he hadn't spoken. He would have never made such a comment to his boss before the trip, especially when something so serious was pending. Maybe the trip to Washington State had impacted the man from Washington, D.C. more than he would care to admit.
   "Do I look like I care anything about a farm tractor, Bert?" Atwater said, shocked his go-to-guy seemed to have suddenly found a touch of humanity Atwater hadn't really witnessed before and had no interest in seeing again.
   "No sir-but you asked about the trip..."
   Maples knew the growl, indicating he only made a bad situation worse; it was the noise Atwater made just prior to an explosion.
   "Bert, you've worked with me long enough to know what I want."
   "Yes, sir."
   "And what is it I want?"
   "The bottom line."
   "So?"
   Bert Maples straightened his tie and thumbed the Phi Beta Kappa key on his watch chain.
   "Well, sir," Bert said. "He's interesting. He's different. But I trust Will Hartline is telling us everything we should know about as far as I can throw the Lincoln Memorial."
   "One thing I want to know," Atwater began, "is did you verify why it took so long for us to get a copy of The Political Year Strategy after Hartline wrote it, if Hartline wrote it?"
   "I spoke personally with Grant County Traditionalist Party Chair Stephanie Billingford. She confirmed she received the strategy paper in the mail at the end of March. She claims she inadvertently set it aside and forgot about it until she came across it by accident nearly six weeks later.
   "She said once she finally read it, she realized she had dropped the ball on something of vital importance, so she drove it over to the State Headquarters in Olympia the next morning.
   "Billingford waited for two hours in his office to speak to the State Chairman on the phone, who was already in D.C., so he wouldn't make the same mistake she had and carelessly put it off. The receptionist filled out a mailing envelop and Ms. Billingford took it directly to the post office, and mailed it next day air in care of the State Chairman, at his hotel. 
   "On the phone, I verified with Mr. Bennett that he had hand-delivered a copy to Nancy Johnson and also to the national committee."
   "Absolutely great news," Atwater said. "The President will be relieved. We're not behind the eight-ball compared to anyone else, after all.
   "What do you think? Did Hartline write the strategy paper?"
   "I can tell you he typed it. I found his typewriter, and I typed out a test page. Not only did it have the same font, but there's also the same typing defect on the small 't' found in every instance in The Political Year Strategy as I found on my test sample. 
   "He claimed he wrote it and I believe him," Bert said. "But, if he only proved to be a skilled liar, I'd have to say whoever wrote the paper had to be a bit different from ordinary folks.
   "And I'd swear on the thickest stack of Bibles anywhere, this Hartline character is about as different as they come, until you get into third-world cultures wholly different from our own."
   

Chapter 8
   Two days later, Will finished plowing for the season. He went through his ordinary completion process before checking in at the office. He unhooked the implements in the equipment yard, as they wouldn't be needed again until the fall-if winter wheat would be planted-otherwise next spring. He fueled the tractor, blew out the cab with an air hose, and parked the tractor until someone would hook it up to another implement for some other job.
   When Will went in the office, Phil was more interested in hearing about Will's recent visitor, since Phil knew the plowing was finished when he saw the tractor come in.
   "I know the guy went through my cabin," Will said. "He must think we're all rubes out here. But I don't have anything that will get me into any trouble."
   "I'm sure he had a search warrant," Phil joked, not even knowing of Bert's earlier Fourth Article/Fourth Amendment mix-up.
   "Thanks for the marathon of hours, Will, so we could get the crops planted and growing, so we may have another harvest in the fall.
   "Next year, I'll be interested to see how soon you'll finish plowing with our new plow behind the 8310. You should finish in record time next year, pulling two more plow bottoms.
   "Say, if you have time, we'd like to take you to lunch. We're interested in hearing about the Washington, D.C. fellow, and, of course, to say thanks for your help again this spring. You know we always appreciate your help during our two busy seasons each year." 
   Four men-Phil, his brother-in-law Kyle and Kyle's son Greg, and Will-ordered lunch at Gracie's Diner. As soon as the waitress left, Kyle turned to Will. "Okay, spill it," he said.
   Will shrugged. "What?"
   "You get a visit from Mr. Federal Agent Man-this is obviously something bigger than anything else you ever written." 
   "I recently took a different approach," Will said. He took a sip of water. "As you know I've been studying and writing about government and the Constitution for a while now."
   Three heads bobbed.
   "It occurred to me members of Congress and federal officials regularly overstep their enumerated constitutional authority, but they always get away with it."
   "That is about as simple of understatement as you've ever made," Phil said. "Not sure I still understand your point though."
   "Imagine a football game," Will said, trying to reach his audience, who incidentally favored Washington State University, out of Pullman. Kyle and Greg loathed the University of Washington Huskies, from the heavily-populated western side of the State.
   "Go Cougars," Greg said.
   "Yes," Will said. "Say the Cougars are playing the Huskies."
   "I hate those guys," Kyle said. "They are a bunch of dirty players. Remember back in '92 when they hit-"
   "Not the point," Phil said, not wanting to listen to Kyle or Greg get all riled up about all the times Washington State had been cheated by the despised Huskies of U-Dub. "Will and I know you two have strong feelings on the matter."
   "Imagine the Apple Cup-the Cougars are up by four-last play of the game," Will said. "The Huskies are forty yards from the goal and run to the weak side."
   "Typical bad play calling," Greg said. "No way you should-"
   "Did you have to use a sports analogy, Will?" Phil asked. "Remember guys, this is an analogy, not highlights on ESPN."
   Greg narrowed his eyes and said nothing.
   "Okay," Will said. "The Cougar linebacker pushes the Huskies' running back out of bounds with no time left on the clock. What happens?"
   Greg hesitated. When Kyle nodded, Greg said, "State wins again!"
   "Except, they don't," Will said. "The Huskies operate in this story like Congress-they change the rules of the game during the middle of the play, and they also have all the referees in their back pocket. The running back steps out of bounds, runs behind his teammates for ten yards, reenters the field, and races across the goal line, and the Huskies are allowed the winning score by the corrupt referees."
   Greg, who was still trying to grasp the fictitious nature of the example, sat slack jawed. "Most crooked thing I have ever heard," he said.
   "And there you have Washington, D.C. in a nutshell," Will said. "The scoundrels cheat spectacularly, seemingly by changing the rules of the game, even in the middle of a play, and the referees help them every step of the way.
   "But, we know in real life football players must follow the rules," Will continued. "The referees must enforce the rules without favor, without anyone on the field being able to change the rules.
   "So, even the simplest of sports have rules that are otherwise strictly enforced, but our federal servants-who have their own rules laid down in the rulebook naming itself the supreme Law of the Land-may supposedly change those rules all on their own, in the middle of the play.
   "And, that doesn't even consider that all the real players of this political game are all required to swear an oath to support their Supreme Rulebook, after their contract is renewed, before they may again play in their new season.
   "This is the utter nonsense I aim to expose to the bright light of day, by taking their absurd explanations for their sidelines running to their illogical conclusion. By way of analogy, the rules say the game must take place within the boundaries of the field, but now their game takes place almost anywhere but the field. It is utterly absurd.
   "Our federal guardians may only become our political masters by fraud, backed up by the threat of force. Even as they admittedly have an intimidating threat of force at their disposal.
   "The primary purposes of government are to protect citizens from force and fraud and to enforce contracts. When the greatest transgressor of our unalienable rights is our government itself, then extreme measures become necessary. But, thankfully, fraud is best resolved not by violence or force, but by full and open exposure.
   "All my work centers on restoring individual liberty and limited government by exposing the fraud used to circumvent the rules, so we don't have to resort to force, which way too many Americans think is the logical next step.
   "I would argue pushing towards violence would play right into our opponents' hands, who always use chaos to increase their grip on our throats.
   "I merely seek to expose two centuries of fraud in the federal seat used to extend its unlimited power throughout the Union. Tyrants seek to ensnare We The People in a spider web of lies.
   "Their deception rests on the absurd proposition which asserts that those who swear an oath to support the Constitution-which oath otherwise signifies their subservience to it-are nevertheless able to change the normal rules enacted specifically for them, with impunity.
   "I aim to show how they pulled off their spectacular political coup so we may stop it forever."
   

Chapter 9
   Senate Minority Leader Fitzhugh Compton chewed on a cigar, a sure sign he was thinking. No one with any sense who knew him ever interrupted him while he was chewing on a cigar. He dropped the stub into the ash tray and looked at the men standing in his office.
   "Okay," he said, "we've all read it, we like it, what do we do?"
   Toady #1 said, "Whatever you think is best, boss."
   Toady #2 said, "I can't imagine anything better than you having the chance to serve a twenty-four-year term."
   Toady #3 asked, "How soon can we make this happen?"
   Compton sneered. This was not the time for sycophants. He turned to Miles Smythe, his aide de camp. "Miles?"
   Miles Smythe had been with Compton throughout the Senator's entire career-even managed the first campaign for City Council. They'd never lost an election-and had not been on the short end of many legislative tussles.
   "A few thoughts, Senator," he said. He paused and cut his eyes toward the trio of toadies. 
   Compton waved at the door dismissively. "You fellows find some intern to accost or a lobbyist to buy you lunch. Just make sure if he spends more than $50 on you, you consider yourselves 'personal friends.' The adults need the room."
   When they were alone, Compton nodded. "Okay, Miles, what do you think?"
   "The story out there is President Trapp had Atwater send the little creep Maples out to Washington State to check out the author of this paper." Smythe waved his copy of The Political Year Strategy. 
   "You only think he's a little creep because he doesn't work for us," Compton said.
   "Even if he did, he wouldn't be less of a creep."
   "Maybe so, but you gotta admit, he's pretty effective."
   "Anyway," Smythe said dismissively, seeking to avoid giving his arch nemesis any more credence than necessary..."Maples undoubtedly got the skinny on this Hartline fellow-I'm sure Atwater is figuring out how to best proceed. Unless we or they discover something sinister, then I say we pursue the idea hammer and tongs."
   Compton leaned forward in his chair to hear his aide's take on the matter, that differed from his own, giving his aid greater allowance for his dismissive behavior than he otherwise would have.
    "Really? You think we go for it now, even while we're in the minority, and lock in our opponent's longer reign?"
   Smythe shook his head, both back and forth and up and down, sending mixed messages. "I think it's the craziest thing I've ever read or heard. But, if you think about it, it's nothing different from what we've been saying for generations.
   "Look, this would be a no-brainer if our political party were in the majority. So, the majority will assuredly pursue this with every hand possible. I don't think it's possible to postpone the issue from taking effect until we get in the majority-it's just too powerful to put off.
   "But, you have to ask yourself, to assure yourself a spot on one of the teams who would necessarily play for a long time-even if our team is currently the underdog-isn't it yet worth it, individually, to support The Political Year Strategy?
   "I mean, what may be best for the party isn't necessarily what's best for the individual players. Yes, we are a team, but first we are individuals. And, each of the players-even playing for the lesser team-still want to play the game. Sometimes, it's simply best to play the game, no matter which side the majority happens to favor at the moment, for the pendulum always swings back and forth. Maybe we just concentrate on remaining in the game for now.
   "Maybe we just get The Political Year Strategy implemented, knowing when it becomes operational isn't near as important as just gettin' 'er done. After all, this strategy is our one best chance to play the game for a long time.
   "So, I say we support this, now, when it presents itself, but it's your call. As I said, with this thing already out of the bag, I don't see how we could postpone it until after an election, where we'd have a shot at regaining the majority.
   "So, let's say The Political Year Strategy takes effect, now, when we are in the minority. All is not lost, because we are still in the game. We simply change our strategy to adapt to the new rules that still benefit us, even while we're in the minority.
   "We simply put all of our considerable efforts into recruiting from the other side, to convert those closest to us, on issue-by-issue votes, if need be."
   "Brilliant," Compton said. "We simply up our game, to recruit from among the existing players and have them come play for us. Absolutely brilliant.
   "Yes-by keeping flexible, we can adapt-so we may still take advantage of every new benefit coming our way. My biggest question would have to be, 'Why postpone what every team member wants?"                                                                                                                        
   "I want to talk with a few more people to make sure we're not missing something unforeseen. And, I'm still counting on you to run point on this. Don't tell those morons out there anything you don't want out in public. We've got more leaks than the Titanic."
   "Got it," Smythe said. "If we work this right, we can still reap considerable benefits."
   "Indeed, what's the harm to see where this strategy leads?"
   Forty miles away in Northern Virginia, a group of men were having a similar discussion. Not one of them, however, thought The Political Year Strategy was harmless-and they were determined to stop it-by whatever means necessary.
   

Chapter 10
   Will continued. "Only this is far more serious than a football game." He held up a finger to stop the anticipated protest from Kyle or Greg. "As a nation, we must stay sharp and demand strict adherence to the Constitution-the whole thing, not just one or two clauses.
   "Thankfully, nothing any member of Congress or federal official-including Supreme Court justices-has ever done, has ever actually changed the Constitution, to any degree whatsoever.
   "All federal servants must swear an oath to support the Constitution, thereby signifying their subservience to it-not it, to them. Their required oath proves they may never change the rulebook that is permanently beyond their grasp.
   "Everything they do to change things, changes nothing for the whole Union. Everything beyond the spirit of the Constitution that appears to change the Constitution only applies where they have the delegated authority to act beyond the Constitution's normal limits, which is only in and for the District of Columbia and other exclusive legislation properties.
   "Federal action beyond normal prescribed limits is extended beyond those limited geographic borders by smoke and mirrors. We simply clear away the smoke with big fans, and smash the mirrors to bits with big sledge hammers."
   "Won't smashing all those mirrors bring a lifetime of bad luck?" Phil asked metaphorically.
   "You know I'm not superstitious, Phil, and neither are you," Will answered, ignoring Phil's real point, of it perhaps being unwise to enrage even one person who held untold wealth and power, but it was perhaps sheer lunacy to go after all of them, all at once.
   "What about the amendments?" Kyle asked, not catching Phil's point. "Those changed everything, didn't they?"
   "Yes, but those were ratified by the States," Will said. "States ratifying formal amendment proposals is the only legitimate way to change the Constitution-by the principals of the original agreement who formally approve genuine change requests along the way, by super-supermajorities, of 75% of the States.
   "While there are several ways to propose and ratify amendments to the Constitution, the most common is for two-thirds of both Houses of Congress to pass a resolution proposing the change, which is then sent to the State legislatures, where it takes three-fourths of them to ratify the formal amendment."
   "You mean 75% of the States voted to take away my beer?" Greg asked.
   Will laughed. "Well, you weren't born yet, but yes, forty-six of the forty-eight States then in the Union ultimately ratified Prohibition-the Eighteenth Amendment."
   "Who didn't?" Kyle asked. "Bet it was some free-thinking, Western States."
   "Actually," Will said, "it was Connecticut and Rhode Island."
   "Never thought I'd have anything in common with those Blue Staters," Kyle said.
   After the chuckling stopped, Will continued. "Obviously, we veered off course along the way, although formal amendments didn't much change our course, even as several of them-the Fourteenth, Sixteenth and Seventeenth, for instance-were pretty bad.
   "Veering off course along the way is, curiously, a common complaint of my work. Some people say I write in a circuitous or convoluted manner, going into way too many rabbit holes. Evidently, it takes substantial effort to wade through my works, which is undoubtedly part of why so few people read them. So, I tried to write fiction-figured I'd use stories-but I still can't seem to simplify the message sufficiently. I never claimed to be a novelist."
   Kyle grimaced. "To tell you the truth, buddy, your stuff could stand to be a little lighter."
   "And there's never any wine, women, or song," Greg added. (Everyone laughed-even Will) "No offense intended."
   "None taken," Will said as he smiled. "Anyway, as you know, I did the D.C. Tractor Drive."
   "To get people focused on farmers, right?" Greg asked.
   Will restrained himself. "You sound like a reporter I met.
   "But, no. The reason for my long, slow drive was to draw attention to the devious mechanism tyrants use to extend their false rule, so we can permanently throw it off. But, if you didn't grasp it, I shouldn't have expected many people I met along the way to figure it out either.
   "After a long time on the tractor and more than a few saddle sores, I finally realized symbolic acts don't cut it anymore. So, I wrote something else-something enticing-something I don't think elected federal custodians in D.C. will quite be able to resist."
   Greg munched on a fry. "Experience tells me we're going to be here for a while-I think I'll order another plate of fries."
   Will looked at his friends. "I don't understand what's so hard to understand. I take every effort to spoon-feed the information to anyone who will listen," he said, "but a lot of people say the same thing, so hearing it doesn't surprise me anymore.
   "I just don't know how to make it any easier. It all seems so plain to me; I can't figure out where or how I lose people.  If no one is willing to wade their way through a few intricacies as to how all the separate pieces fit together, then I just don't see much hope for restoring our freedom. So, I proceeded with my nuclear option-to force the issue-to force both sides to pay attention long enough to realize our errant path. It is imperative people begin learning this important information before we lose everything."
   "Geniuses are often misunderstood," Phil said with a straight face, which surprised Will.
   Will grinned. "I'm hardly a genius and you know it, Phil. I'm just a guy who believes in freedom of the individual and in limited government. I'm more than a little upset bullies and frauds have had their way for far too long. Mainly, I'm persistent, because the good guys must win at the end of the day."
   Kyle held up a cautioning index finger. "Okay, buddy, simmer down. I can see your blood beginning to boil. Why don't you boil down your new scheme for us, instead?"
   Duly chastised, Will began. "When law students study the 1819 McCulloch v. Maryland case, they are basically told in a few more words that the Supreme Court reinterpreted the nationwide meaning of necessary and proper to mean convenient. Law students are also told 1803 Marbury v. Madison gave the Supreme Court Judicial Review, the supposed power of the Court to be the final arbiter on the 'real' meaning of words found in the U.S. Constitution. Well, no one who knows anything today ever challenges those absurd assertions. Instead, to remain relevant, they fight in an arena where they think they still stand a chance of winning.
   "I assert, however, that we cannot ever hope to cure the disease after we accept 200 years of utter political nonsense we can't ever afford to accept if we want to restore our freedom and limited government. We cannot accept their false premises, which assure they will win all the coming battles.
   "As I said, few people want to wrestle in areas so long ago conceded, because they want to stay in the current battle, in hopes of having some small chance of impacting our future. I say we have no present, let alone any future, if we accept wholly unacceptable past losses.
   "Personally, I couldn't care less about being relevant in the everyday small stuff that are but ramifications of consequences built upon implications resting upon inferences.
   "I assert we must necessarily go back to where we went off our constitutional rails, to right our sinking ship and get back on proper course.
   "We cannot concede to hundreds of years of fundamental constitutional upheaval, and accept our current place as the proper starting point for needed reform.
   "Most amendment strategies suggested these days accept the unacceptable, meaning they would fail in their desired effect and quite possibly even backfire, like the Seventeenth Amendment. We continue to lose, because long ago we accepted false premises that assure our continuing defeat.
   "Starting from our present position would simply add in new words to the Constitution which those who claim preposterous powers would ignore or change. We must get to the false root of their supposed power to ignore or bypass normal constitutional parameters and pull out that evil root.
   "We must directly challenge the theoretical ability of appointed Supreme Court justices, elected members of Congress or duly elected American Presidents, being able to change their delegated powers.
   "I've spent decades trying to bring awareness to the choir on how to fight these scoundrels directly, with no progress whatsoever to show for it, beyond accumulating my work which no one currently chooses to read.
   "You could say I got tired of trying the same things, the same ways, and getting the same result-failure. So, I finally decided to help my political adversaries advance their cause to what I see as its inevitable and illogical conclusion.
    "I will take their ideas and push them to the point of absurdity, to expose their fraud.
   "Federal servants claim they may become our political masters by reinterpreting words and phrases found in the Constitution, to give themselves more powers.
   "Fine; I'll provide them the apparent means to extend their political lives four-fold by reinterpreting the word 'Year' as it relates to elected legislative and presidential terms, and federal election intervals.
   "They will see the means to protract their political terms four-fold, merely by changing what is understood and meant by the word 'Year,' to become a new 'Political Year,' which equates to the length of a 'Leap Year,' in this case."
   Three blank faces stared back at Will. "But, you're giving them everything they could ask for-why?" Kyle asked.
   "It's sort of a Hail Mary pass," Will answered.
   Greg paused with a handfull of French fries halfway to his mouth. "Finally," he said, "something I can understand."
   The four men spoke for another hour, before three of them had to get back to work. Even though the plowing was finished, there was still more planting to be done.
§§
   Before they went back to the farm, Will went out front and used one of the last remaining payphones in town. He dialed the phone number from his wallet. He waited for a recorded voice to tell him how many quarters he needed to deposit.
   When the phone was answered on the third ring, he spoke in his usual direct manner. "Emerson," he said, "this is Will Hartline-yes, your tractor guy. I'm glad you haven't forgotten about me. If you meant what you said, I could use your help. I'll coming to Washington, D.C.-I hope to arrive in about a week. Can you possibly meet me for coffee or something-but somewhere where we may talk freely? I wouldn't bother you unless it was important."
   
Chapter 11
   The sky scowled in the late afternoon as Will stepped off the cross-country bus at Union Station. Greg Dorning had arranged for a room outside the heart of the city, with his father's and uncle's blessing. Phil had been intentionally vague about the cost. If Will had known it was $1200 a month, he would have likely found a bridge to sleep under, although the farmers knew it was a bargain.
   Once Will's employers understood what Will largely intended, they insisted he visit D.C. to best ensure his bait was fully set, so the trap would be at maximum tension when it came time to spring it. Phil and Kyle didn't fully understand Will's plan, but they knew and trusted Will. Besides, something had to be done, or at least tried.
   After checking the route map on the wall, Will boarded the outbound city bus, and soon arrived at his new digs just as the streetlights came on in the premature evening glow. He entered his entry code for the front door Greg had given him from the email confirmation. Lugging his backpack up the stairs, he entered his custom code for room #4-he'd chosen "1776."
   Will was not entirely on-board with the whole objective of secret passwords-he just tried to make sure he could remember it.
   He got squared away in his private room, then checked the layout of the bathroom and kitchen shared with a few other tenants. The kitchen was fully furnished with sturdy cookware, cutlery, and dishes.
   Rejuvenated after a light meal-a can of soup brought for the occasion served its purpose-and short rest, Will shouldered his coat and set out on a ten-block hike to a neighborhood bodega he had seen through the bus window. He made his purchases, then loaded his backpack with his treasures: milk, cheese, bacon, turkey, ham, tuna fish, eggs, mayonnaise, bread, butter, cereal, a box of donuts (impulse buy, which he wasn't above doing), peanut butter, strawberry jam, apples, bananas, oranges, nuts, hotdogs, buns, ketchup, chips, soap, toilet paper and sandwich bags.
   After unloading his purchases back in his room, he read through the newspapers he also bought. He was hardly impressed. The political slant is obvious, he thought. They don't even try to hide their opinions in what was supposed to be news. 
   Will grabbed the Bible from the nightstand he had earlier removed from his backpack and went through his evening devotional-from Isaiah 41.
   "So do not fear, for I am with you;
    do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
   "All who rage against you
    will surely be ashamed and disgraced;
those who oppose you
    will be as nothing and perish.
"Though you search for your enemies,
    you will not find them.
Those who wage war against you
    will be as nothing at all.
For I am the LORD your God
    who takes hold of your right hand
and says to you, Do not fear;
    I will help you."
   Will closed the Bible, said a prayer, and settled into bed. Before sleep overtook him, he thought over the years since Aileen's death. He could see a slow, but steady progression of knowledge ever since he had picked up his tricorn hat and got a bee in his "bonnet" about history. While it didn't seem like he'd gone far any given day, looking back he could see how far he'd traveled since the first day he'd sat down with the Constitution.
   Had Aileen lived, surely she would have thought his life's work worthy, even if she understandably may have grown tired of his relentless pursuit. Every time he thought of his beloved country and its most sacred documents, he felt her presence urging him forward.
   He knew increasing numbers of disillusioned patriots were coming to conclude falsely that the U.S. Constitution wasn't worth the paper it was written on, but he knew they were wrong.
   His disheartened contemporaries foolishly listened too much to mutual adversaries boast how the U.S. Constitution was impotent to stop them. Who wouldn't conclude the Constitution was worthless, if federal servants could truly become our political masters, extending their false reign everywhere, without our ability to stop them?
   But, if patriots looked past the web of lies shouted from the rooftops of ivory tower edifices, did their own work, and kept at it, they could soon see they'd merely been snookered. Sometimes the fault of current affairs and false beliefs could not all be blamed on those who came before, even as our predecessors were far from blameless themselves.
   He knew paper tyrants who pushed for unlimited government authority did their best to cast derision upon the U.S. Constitution, precisely because it was the only thing capable of standing in their way. Only by working strenuously to make the Constitution appear irrelevant and obsolete could their absolute rule be secured by telling lies long enough most everyone believed them. Only by getting all sides to finally agree the Constitution wasn't working could tyrants cast off the Constitution's power, which was the only thing capable of reigning them in.
   From Will's perspective, that so much effort had been for so long expended towards portraying the Constitution as weak and ineffectual provided fair evidence the Constitution fully enforced would be the best and fastest means for throwing off false rule, permanently.
   The country could begin restoration when those victimized by excessive federal action began to learn the curious means of constitutional bypass which devious men implemented to rule beyond the Constitution's normal parameters and then respond accordingly, without apology.
   He stared at the darkened ceiling as he did when sleep eluded him-he talked to God-not so much a prayer, but a conversation between friends.
   Well, Lord, I've had personal success figuring out what we Americans face, but no success whatsoever in reaching others. I've been working on this country's problems for over three decades now-and I have not even opened one or two minds sufficient to the degree which minds must be opened if we hope to restore liberty. In fact, most people who know me think I'm at least a little nuts, if not a lot. I just want this country back on track to help it return to what You intended when You led our ancestors to this blessed land.
   He scratched his nose-he felt a little stuffiness coming on. He slid another pillow under his head and continued. We have a lot of apparent issues in this country-but they fester due to a central, rotten core: power-seeking government servants who are out of control and out of touch with the American people, who nevertheless successfully steer American government in a direction opposite of its founding. I genuinely believe if I can get some footing now, I can cause a chain reaction to make everything else soon fall into place.
   Will reached for a tissue at the bedside table. He blew his nose. I hope I'm not getting a cold, he thought.
   Lord, you've given me some ability. I'm not the smartest guy in the room. But, because of You, few ever outwork me. You have entrusted me with the aptitude to dig through and to understand archaic and difficult language-to grasp not only the central message of our Founding Fathers, but most importantly, how to cut through the Gordian Knot several designing men created over time to overturn everything those brave Founders had designed.  Perhaps I am merely a man out of my time-You know I would have fit in better if I'd been born two hundred years earlier.
   A sneeze wracked his body-then another-then a third.
   Lord, You've blessed me with independence. I never had to compromise my beliefs to please teachers and later employers, who intentionally or unintentionally would have kept me seeking good grades or a steady paycheck, on a path of acquiescence, kept from effectively challenging their horrid dogma that may not be challenged if one hopes to succeed in their game, achieving personal success.
   Far too few people ever examine the tragic mistakes of our past, made so long ago, in any great and continuing depth. I am, by Your grace, as self-sufficient as any human being can be. I am free to follow the evidence You wondrously open to me wherever it leads. But, I need one thing, Lord.
   Will felt his head swim. He closed his eyes for a moment. His lids scratched like someone had smeared them with sandpaper.
   If You would be so kind, Lord, enable me to find someone to spread my message about how our governmental-uh-"servants" feel free to change the meaning of the Constitution even after they take an oath to support it. I cannot do this alone. I am now well beyond my capabilities, on this topic, of reaching others. I can plow through the dense jungle on my own, but I do not know how to bring others along for the ride. I know how to make my own way, but not how to encourage others to leave behind The Web of Lies. Please bring me a leader who can take my work and get people to safety.
   Will gulped for air, saying aloud, "Lord, I am ready-I am Your servant, but I am unskilled. All I ask is for some help, so Your Divine Purpose may and will be fulfilled. As always, Lord, not my will but Thine be done."
   He drifted off to sleep. In a dream, the Lord relayed to Will the message that he wasn't made "to fit in" and he hadn't been born according to his own timing, but according to God's perfect timing.
   What seemed like minutes later, a shrill scream cut through his sleep. Will thrashed at the travel alarm, managed to cut it off, then squinted at the time. He blinked twice.
   "It can't be six o'clock." His voice was hoarse. He coughed-then looked again. "Yep, six."
   His body protested, "This isn't right!" He'd worked on a farm for decades. He knew what the early hours of the morning felt like-in fact, he could often identify the time without looking at a clock.
   He sat up in bed, slowly-his head throbbed. As he rubbed his temples, reality sank in.
   "I'm not home," he said, finally realizing where he was. "I'm in D.C.-and it may be 6:00 AM here, but it's 3:00 AM back home."
   His temples wouldn't stop pulsing. He grimaced. I don't feel well.
   Then he remembered the article from the newspaper about the anticipated high pollen count. When he pushed out of bed, he felt like he was dragging an anvil with each foot. The cold water on his face helped his head a little, but the fatigue hung on like a bulldog chewing a steak.
   He made toast, ate a bowl of cereal, and trudged down the street.
   The clerk at the pharmacy was sympathetic. "It's generic but has the same formula as the expensive name-brand stuff," he said, handing Will a box of allergy medicine. "This'll treat what ails you. You won't feel amped up, your eyes won't itch, and you'll be able to breathe."
   "Thanks," Will said. "Is it always this bad?"
   "May's a tough month, particularly if you're new to the area. After a few days, you'll likely adjust. Just take one every morning and you should be fine." He looked at Will, "I can tell you're a little skeptical. You really should take it every morning. The last thing you want is a sinus infection-local residents get a lot of those."
   Will thanked the clerk and swallowed a pill as soon as he found a drink of water. Thirty minutes later, he felt better. 
   As he walked down the street, he remembered his conversation with God the previous evening about getting someone to help him. Will did not realize how soon his request would be answered, with the Lord blessing Will with a double measure.

Chapter 12
   Will arrived at the Library of Congress a short time later-the bus connections had been easy.
   When asked, one of the librarians told Will about the payphones remaining in the Adams Building, ground floor, 3rd Street entrance.
   "Hello, Emerson," Will said. "This is Will Hartline."
   "Yes, I'm in town. I can make it this evening. Yes, I know where Union Station is, but no, I don't know the restaurant. I'll find it. See you there, at 6:00 PM."
   Exciting conversation it was not-only the briefest of conversations between two people who weren't interested in wasting a moment. Greeting; purpose; time; place; done.
   Will went back into the library and had a protracted session with one of the librarians on how to use a computer. The librarian looked at him like he'd crawled out from under a rock when he told her he'd never used a computer before, only a manual typewriter. He was able not only to find a wealth of reference materials on the Constitution, but also his current goal-a list of groups in town who promoted it.
   It did not surprise him that few of the reference materials on the Constitution had been checked out in the last two decades. On his way out, he stopped again at the Circulation Desk.
   "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, holding up his lunch sack. "Is there a place where I may eat my lunch?"
   "I'd recommend a bench in the park across the street if you can find a seat," the woman said. "But, you may certainly eat on our steps, if you'd like, as long as you keep clear of the foot traffic. It is probably best to stay away from the handrails, which people use."
   After Will stepped outside, he reflexively reached into his backpack to grab his tricorn hat, to give respect for the impressive library. A man, seeing Will don his hat, rushed up to him. "Are you by chance Will Hartline, the author of The Political Year Strategy?" 
   "Guilty as charged," Will answered. "And who might you be?"
   "Oh, I'm nobody-name's Jenkins. I do freelance photography work-I guess you could say I'm a paparazzi. Got a tip you were maybe in town."
   Paparazzo is the singular form, Will thought, but he decided not to correct the man. After all, the photographer likely even knew as much, but sought to ease his own burden because he had long before grew tired of explaining the use of unknown singular terms to people who didn't care to know. "How did you know who I was, and that I was in D.C.? I certainly never expected to be recognized here."
   "I've spent years building an extensive network of contacts for my business. I heard a Will Hartline had made room reservations in town. I didn't know if he or you were the author of The Political Year Strategy which I've heard of, but when I saw you in a tricorn hat on my way to the boarding room near here I was told Will Hartline had rented, I was willing to bet that I had just found my man.
   "Normally, I don't even speak to my photo subjects," Jenkins said. "I usually just snap away and then find someone to buy my shots, but you seem-well-a little different. I like interesting characters. They make life more enjoyable. Thought maybe you'd give me permission to, you know..."
   He held up his camera and smiled.
   "Sure," Will said. "Just not used to anyone wanting to take my picture. Want me to take my hat off?"
   "Heavens no," Jenkins said. "The hat says it all. Just stand there and look off in the distance."
   After a few quick shots, Jenkins seemed satisfied.  
   "Are you in town to grab your reward?" Jenkins asked. "Like some directorship, somewhere?"
   "Heavens no," Will said, returning the expression. "I'm here to watch the spectacle; maybe urge it along, if need be."
   "Yeah, I get it," Jenkins said. "The initial buzz I'm hearing from my high-placed contacts is that your paper has all the hallmarks of quickly turning things into a feeding frenzy. Undoubtedly, you're going to become quite the big deal in town, if you didn't know it.
   "Hey, if you're going to be having lunch or dinner with a few high government officials or celebrities, someone I could... (he held up his camera again), I'd be happy to pay a finder's fee if I can sell a few shots. You look like the type of guy who could use a few bucks." 
   Will looked at Jenkins-who didn't seem fazed by his contrary comments, asking whether Will was going to be having lunch with the rich and powerful while stating that Will looked like the type of guy who could use a few bucks-and then Will held up his leftover grocery sack that held his lunch. "Honestly, sir, I don't think any big wigs will be looking to share my fabulous lunch."
   Jenkins shrugged and handed over a business card. "If anything changes, buddy, let me know." He looked Will up and down again and decided to hand him $10. "Like I said, it looks like you could use a few bucks. Maybe grab a hot lunch or something. See you around." 
§§
   Will strolled into the park about 12:30 PM. About fifty yards away, he spotted a bench with a lone resident, while the other benches were fully occupied. The young man sitting alone did not seem to cast a "get away from me" vibe. Before Will approached the bench, he slipped his hat into his backpack.
   "Sir, do you mind if I sit at this end of the bench to eat my lunch?" Will asked.
   The young man looked around and then at Will. "When you said 'sir,' I thought perhaps my father had showed up. Name's Mike," he said as he extended his hand and stood up while motioning for Will to sit down.
   Will shook his hand and both men sat down. "Will," he said, following Mike's lead of giving out just his first name.
   After Will had grabbed his sandwich, Mike made a show of sniffing the air. "I detect the alluring fragrance of PB&J," he said. "Let me guess, strawberry jam and Jiff extra crunchy on white."
   "You have a refined palate-or should I say nose," Will said with a grin, even as he preferred Adams Old Fashioned Peanut Butter.
   "I don't think I've had one of those in ten years. After my dad's heart attack, my mother called me every day and pestered me about my eating habits until I changed my evil ways," Mike said. "Now, it's a lot of salads and vegetables, but occasionally I sneak a nice juicy steak. But never disgusting white bread."
   "Oh, I'll leave the rabbit food all to you," Will said but held out half his sandwich. "Tempt you?"
   Mike's eyes lit up. "Geez, you know-what the heck," he said, as he suddenly became a bit nostalgic to the foods he once enjoyed. Mike seemingly bit half of the sandwich handed him, before he tried to get out "Thank you," which was largely unintelligible.
   Both men laughed. "Peanut butter mouth will get you every time," Will said. "But my main problem is breadcrumbs."
   He stroked his beard-"White bread isn't anywhere near as bad with crumbs, as some of the flakier wheat breads."
   "I'll have to say your beard's pretty impressive," Mike said. "Take you long to grow it?"
   "I trimmed it about three inches before I came here," Will said. "Wanted to look somewhat presentable-I've had a beard off and on since I was eighteen. Used to drive my mother crazy, then my wife."
   "So, do you have kids?" Mike asked. 
   "No," Will answered. "My wife passed away before we had any. Never remarried."
   "Oh, my condolences," Mike said, quickly changing the subject back to beards. "A lot of the guys here have beards looking like a Labrador with a bad case of mange. I don't even try." He brushed his hand across his clean-shaven face. "Less hair than a baby's backside."
   "Well," Will said tapping his balding head, "at least you've got head cover."
   The two presented quite a study in contrasts. Will, dressed in clean work pants, heavy flannel shirt, and worn White's handmade work boots, was well past middle age. Mike wasn't much over thirty with a full head of hair, neatly trimmed, and wearing a classic cut, three-piece navy-blue suit (complete with watch chain), and tan Cole Hahn wingtips.
   They chatted amiably with Mike doing most of the talking, which suited Will just fine. The younger man was single and currently taking a break from the dating scene, enjoyed softball and racquet sports, and played bass guitar in a cover band when he had spare time. Will admitted he didn't listen to anything music-wise (except for Kate Smith). But they both read voraciously.
   Neither Mike nor Will steered the discussion yet into politics, but something told them they were sympatico in their views.
   Will jumped a little when he heard a beep.
   "Nothing to worry about, my friend," Mike said. He reached for his wrist and tapped his watch. "Just a reminder to get back to work. Where are you from, by the way?"
   "Washington," Will said. "The other one-the State."
   "How long are you here?"
   "Not sure. I have a room for a month, but maybe I'll be here a little longer."
   "Well," Mike said, "I eat lunch here most days-so I can wind down in the park when the weather cooperates. I don't make a habit of stealing other people's food, though, so you needn't be concerned with me eating yours again. Anyway, if the weather's good, I'll likely be here, unless I have a lunch meeting scheduled. I would enjoy another chance to talk, if you're back by here again, around 12:15 PM."
   "Sounds great," Will said. He stood and offered his hand.
   As they walked in opposite directions, they each had the same thought.
   What an interesting guy. 
   

Chapter 13
   At 5:45 PM, Will arrived back at Union Station. It was busy, noisy, and a perfect place to meet if two people wanted to get lost in the crowd.
   Find a map of the eateries and I should have plenty of time to walk to the restaurant.
   Emerson was seated in a booth, watching for Will. She stood and waved when she saw him.
   "Thank you so much for meeting me, Emerson," Will said as he sat down across from her.
   "I am surprised to see you back in D.C. so soon, Will," Emerson said. "You seem pretty far out of your element here."
   "I didn't have the slightest indication I'd ever be back when we met," Will said. "But, remember, you said to contact you if I could ever use any help."
   "Yes, I do remember saying something along those lines. To let you know, I may have been feeling a little sorry for you at the time," Emerson said to soften up her options in case Will was going to ask her something she'd be unwilling to do. "So, what is it? What are you wanting me to do?"
   "Well, I have written this strategy paper," Will said. "It's called The Political Year Strategy. It's just beginning to get some traction in town. I'm here to push it along. I thought maybe you could help get it out there, to some of your conservative contacts who would hate it."
   A fan who recognized Emerson stopped by their table, letting her know how much she was appreciated. By the time the admirer left, Emerson had become quite intrigued with Will's last words, given his cross-country jaunt, with its decidedly limited-government slant.
   "What, exactly, do you mean, when you say you wrote something my conservative contacts would hate?" Emerson asked. 
   "Well, first off, this is a lot different than anything I've ever written before," Will said. "It's actually a plan to extend federal overreach to its next level, to help those who push for total government control, reach out for their next giant leap forward."
   "Sure, and I'm the Easter Bunny," Emerson said, laughing. "What is it, really? April Fool's was nearly two months ago."
   Will spent the next two hours-interrupted only by ordering and eating food-explaining to Emerson all about his paper.
   "So, what exactly do you want me to do?" she asked, wanting to get back to the point of the meeting since she had used up far more time than she had originally allotted. She wasn't complaining, though, since she immediately realized Washington politics would never be the same again.
   "I'll leave the final decision to you," Will answered. "You may do whatever you think best for your career, your country, or for whatever reason you decide. I am just thankful you were willing to hear me out.
   "But, here's what I was thinking. I'd like you to disseminate my paper quietly to your contacts who would hate to see this strategy implemented, but don't tell them anything else about it at first. It is important for them to sweat it out for a few days, perhaps a week or even two. Let them get all heated up and worried about it. Their blood pressure needs to rise-their juices need to get flowing.
   "Preferably, they'll start working against it immediately with everything they have. I'm looking to create a controversy, to get everyone talking about it.
   "I've never been able to get our team to pay attention, but I want them to pay attention, now. I don't want you to spill the beans yet because a good controversy begets good press. I want the media to blow up the story, for and against, and if your like-minded colleagues vent a little, earnestly writing and talking trash against the strategy, then all the better.
   "If you tell them too early that I'm only baiting a trap, then they won't really be able to rant against it if they know it to be artificially contrived. I want them instead to express a great deal of righteous indignation, written in real fear the plan may or will soon be implemented.
   "Please consider staying out of the fray until I am ready to spring the trap, at which point you may release any well-honed expose you are able to get past your bosses. Of course, you currently have a scoop no one else has, but if you wait until the trap is ready to be sprung, hopefully you'll have an even bigger scoop with all the background you'd ever care to construct leisurely between now and then. And, of course, I'd help you in any way I can."
   "Will Hartline, you are turning out to be quite the dastardly cuss, aren't you?" Emerson said. "I would have never guessed you had it in you when we met a few months ago."
   "They say desperation breeds ingenuity," Will said. "Perhaps a little deviousness, too, to fight two centuries of horrid deviousness. I finally decided if I was going to have an impact and fight Alexander Hamilton's diabolical plan, I had better be prepared to confront his devilish fire with my own righteous inferno to burn out his flames."
§§
   Because Emerson said she knew at least a dozen great places to drop off the strategy paper, Will thought he'd spend another day hitting a few historical sites. His highlight was a trip to the Aeronautics and Space Museum. 
   Walking down the sidewalk to a bus stop, Will saw something from the corner of his eye at a newsstand-a picture-of himself!  He was standing on the steps of the Library of Congress, a faraway look in his eye, and his tricorn hat covering his ever-expanding bald spot. The 32-point headline screamed: Government Takeover Strategist in Town to Plug His Plan.
   While The Political Year Strategy had been making wider circulation throughout the upper political circles, it hadn't caught much attention beyond those confines, yet. Maybe this headline will get my plan out there into the public's attention, he thought.
   He had forgotten Aesop's warning, "Be careful what you wish for."
§§
   Almost immediately after his photo appeared in the tabloid, Will began noticing something odd. He could walk down the street in complete anonymity. But the second he put the tricorn on his head, people started spotting him. 
   They're starting to recognize me in my tricorn hat, from the supermarket tabloid picture, he realized. The picture had also found its way into the mainstream press, along with in-depth stories on the daring new strategy.
   At about the same moment, a funny thought came to his mind-he suddenly understood how Clark Kent could fade into the background until he appeared in his cape.
   Of course, since Superman had unusual skills to boot, perhaps the differences in him being recognized weren't limited to his cape, but just possibly his capabilities, including his superhuman ability to fly. Will, a mere mortal, of course, had no superpower. In fact, most days he was lucky if he could even keep up with the flow.
   Except when he was pursuing the cause for which he was born-to figure out how federal servants ever became our political masters-he was quite ordinary in abilities. But, within his purpose, he had a targeted ability to stay on point, following every lead back to its foundation, long after most anyone else would tire and pursue an easier and more immediately-gratifying course of action.
   As a small reward for his progress to date, Will decided to celebrate Friday evening. Just before 6:00 PM, he walked six blocks from his room to a burger joint where he ordered a double with bacon, cheese, and mushrooms. He got an order of onion rings and water. A young gal just finishing high school rang up the total. 
   "Excuse me, Miss," Will said. "Would it be too much trouble to add something."
   "Not at all, sir. What else would you like?"
   "Have any good milkshakes?" Will asked, since he was celebrating. "I would love a peanut butter and hot fudge milkshake if you have it.
   "The best," she said. She leaned over the counter a little. "Get a large!"
   "Are you trying to up-sell me, young lady?" he asked.
   The youngster clutched at her heart. "Perish the thought, sir. I am a woman of honor." (She did a great Scarlett O'Hara impersonation). "Seriously, it is the bomb."
   "I assume you mean it's really good," Will said, who finally deciphered one slang term correctly (perhaps he was just well-tuned to his favored topic of peanut butter and chocolate ice cream). "I'll have a milkshake, but a small will do me just fine."
   He sat at a table outside the walk-up window once he was given the milkshake. After a long pull on the straw, he looked over at the cashier who looked over to him. He gave her a thumbs up. She clapped and waved.
   Not everyone here is a bad sort, he thought. First Emerson, then the helpful librarian, Mike, the generous photographer, and now this young lady who has her whole future ahead of her.
    He took his time with the meal-ate some of the onion rings first while they were piping hot. He thought, You know, if I were to ask for a last meal, it would be hard to top this one.
   Little did he know how close his thoughts would come to reality.
§§
   The man had been waiting outside Will's apartment since 6:00 PM. He reached inside his jacket. His fingers scraped the handle of the Glock 19 in his waistband.
   Where is he?
   He'd watched every person go into and out of the building for nearly four hours. None of the people he saw looked like the man in the picture of the tabloid. The man fidgeted and wondered if anyone had called in the darkened streetlight yet. He'd knocked it out with a rock at twilight. The shower of glass verified the light would not come on with the darkness.
   He saw a young couple stroll past-too young. And Hartline is alone according to our information.
   Will was four blocks away when he stopped to admire the evening sky. He stepped to the side of a building to block out the glare of the streetlight. He searched for Ursa Major, Scorpio, and Libra, but he didn't have any luck. It always gave him great peace of mind to marvel at God's handiwork, especially before bed.
   He was feeling particularly well, after his hearty meal (he would never go for one of those foo-foo meals at one of those fancy restaurants). His nose was respectably clear. The night air was a mite chilly on the top of his head, so he put on his hat. He tilted his tricorn to a jaunty angle-just for fun. Martha Washington probably wouldn't approve, he thought, but she's not here to correct my manners.
   When he got to the block where his room was located, he noticed it was unusually dark. "Streetlight's out," he said. "So is the porch light."
   He approached the landing but sensed movement-to his left and slightly behind him. The voice from the gloom was shaky.
   "Don't move, mister."
   After nothing happened for what seemed to be an eternity, he turned ever so slowly, which the street thug didn't seem to mind.
   Will found himself looking down the business end of a 9 mm. "Nice piece," he said before gathering up enough courage to add in a bit of sarcasm. "Do you have a carry permit?"
   "What difference is it to you, bub? You're going to be dead soon enough, Mr. Hartline."
   "You seem to have me at a distinct disadvantage. You know my name-I should have yours. Don't you think it is fair for me to know who is going to kill me and especially why, before they do?"
   Will's apparent calm demeanor belied his insides. How does this guy even know who I am? he wondered, before he remembered he was wearing his tricorn hat, as he had been in the tabloid photo. His mind was racing and his stomach was churning. He could feel adrenaline coursing through his body. I do not want to die-I have important work yet to finish.
   Deep down, he knew if he had any chance to alter the outcome of the thug's stated intention-murder-he would have to rely upon his wits, because his strength and speed would be no match for his muscular younger opponent, who had caught him by surprise and who was committed enough to bring a gun to carry out his intention.
   "I'm not going to die tonight," Will said, again with a bravado he did not fully believe. "You've never killed a man before-at least not one who is staring into your eyes. No, your hand is shaking, you're having trouble with your breathing-could be allergies-having some problems myself-but I think your trouble is related more to sheer... stark... terror."
   "Walk down the street and go around the corner," the man finally said. He struggled to sound authoritative, but couldn't rid his voice of its tremulous quality. Will obliged, not feeling any more heroic than he had already been able to pull off. He didn't yet believe he was out of danger-perhaps his opponent just wanted to take him off the beaten path where a gunshot would be more commonplace or not as easily heard. But, just maybe, my demise is no longer as perilously close at hand-unless I do something stupid.
   "Brown Chevy, get in," the man said.
   "I'm more of a John Deere man myself," Will said, his confidence rising as his fear of dying diminished incrementally.
   Will slid into the back seat. "Hello," he said to a nervous driver, trying to continue his efforts to defuse the grim situation.
   The man's eyes widened. He looked at his associate with the gun. "Charlie, what in the world is going on? What are you doing, man?"
   "Change of plans," the man said. "Just drive."
   Will felt a surge in confidence. "Well, Charlie, where are we headed?"
   "Name's not Charlie-it's Hancock," he said to no one who believed him.
   "Let me guess," Will said. "John Hancock."
   "Shut up," said Charlie-John Hancock (or John-Charlie, Will wasn't sure), "before I rethink my command decision."
   Will was thankful his kidnapper had a different understanding of "command" than his own.
   They rode for an hour with the radio blaring, drowning out any noises outside the car and keeping the two men of differing perspectives from saying anything they didn't want their captive to hear. Will had been forced to lie on the seat, with his wrists taped to his ankles and a coat over his head.
   Will could tell they turned onto a gravel drive. He was hoping they were reaching the kidnappers' destination, as he was cramping up from his odd position. Pebbles pinged off the bottom of the vehicle as it bounced along a heavily rutted road. The front door opened after the car came to a halt and John-Charlie began talking to someone outside. With some country singer still shouting about his long-lost love, Will couldn't make out the words exchanged between his captors, but whoever was talking with Hancock wasn't happy.
   A blindfold was slipped across Will's eyes immediately after the coat was pulled off his head. Someone cut the duct tape around his ankles, even as they left the tape binding his hands.
   Will had difficulty standing, after being pulled from the car, due to being hunched over for so long. Although he was finally free to stretch, he was forced to walk before he could take the opportunity. He tripped on the threshold he couldn't see-his legs didn't yet seem to work quite right-but managed to avoid falling.
   Will heard voices-four... five...six different ones. He could hear a high-pitched whiney tenor. "I knew you'd screw this up-you were so gung-ho about the mission. And now you bring him here?"
   Hancock replied, his voice angry and strained. "Ain't like shooting a deer. It's not like taking candy from no kid either, to just shoot 'em in the back of the head out of the blue. But, it's even worse, I tell you, to look a pathetic old man in the eyes at pointblank range and then pull the trigger."
   Will heard a brief scuffle, then a deep and commanding voice. "Knock it off, you two," he said. "It is what it is. We'll have to deal with it, now." 
   Someone shoved Will into a hard, straight-back chair. A voice echoed across the barn. "Are you Will Hartline?" 
   Will wondered to himself, do I answer 'Who wants to know?' or do I remain silent. He chose the latter, for the time being.
   After being pressed again, he answered, "Who wants to know?"
   His head immediately exploded in pain from a backhanded slap. Will felt the weight of a heavy ring dig into his jaw.
   "I'm asking the questions here. Are you Will Hartline?"
   "It doesn't take much courage or strength to beat a 'pathetic old man' who is tied up and can't even see his attackers," Will said. "If you want to speak with me, at least have the decency to take off my blindfold, so we can have a face-to-face conversation."
   Awkward silence settled in the room. Will heard footsteps and braced for another cuffing. Instead, someone removed the blindfold. Blinking to adjust to the light, Will assessed his situation.
   He was in the middle of the barn. He could see six men to his left, two shouldering AR-15s and another holding a shotgun. A seventh man stood in front of him, about ten feet away. He was of average height, with a barrel chest, enormous forearms, and a voice to match. Behind him was an American flag. On the wall to Will's right, he could make out posters-reproductions of the Declaration of Independence, the U.S. Constitution and the Bill of Rights.
   "Are you Will Hartline? Do not make me ask you again."
   This is the one who broke up the fight. "I am," Will said, beginning to worry the granting of his request meant he now had more to fear than if he had remained blindfolded.
   "You, sir, are a leech who will soon be removed from America's neck. What do you have to say for yourself?"
   Will wasn't sure the man's exact point. "Regarding what, may I ask? I have committed no offense. I have broken no law."
   "You are guilty of the most heinous of all crimes," the man said.
   "Which is?" Will asked.
   "Treason."
   

Chapter 14
   The word sent a cold chill through to Will's lower spine.
   "There is no viler word in any language," Will said. "I am not a violent man, sir, but were I free, I would nevertheless have to challenge you to defend yourself for your slander. Though I would undoubtedly lose a physical altercation with you, the point would be to defend my honor even should I assuredly lose."
   The man shook his head. "I carry more knowledge about the Constitution in my pinky finger than you do in your entire head-under that silly hat of yours." 
   In the days when tricorn hats were commonly worn, a conversation such as this could well have ended in a duel, like the one that ended Alexander Hamilton's life in 1804 at the hands of Vice President Aaron Burr.
   In his terror, Will hadn't noticed he still had his satchel. The minute he recognized its presence, the contents began digging into his back. He twitched to one side. 
   He gathered his wits as best he could and responded. "Perhaps you will afford me the opportunity to test your statement, but my immediate concern now is how you intend to follow up on your botched murder attempt and subsequent kidnapping. Apparently, no one here was a Boy Scout-you were not well-prepared." 
   Hancock slid into view from the side. "Shut up, old man," he said. He drew back his hand.
   "Charlie!" The roar from the front ended the assault before it started. "Charlie, you've caused enough trouble. Go stand in the corner and shut up."
   Best defense is a good offense, Will thought. "So," he said, "you know the Constitution, you say. Of which country?"
   The man at the front blinked-hard. "Excuse me?"
   "You seem to be operating under something other than the document proposed on September 17, 1787-you know, the one soon ratified and then later amended with an amendment mandating Due Process of the accused, which you are wholly denying me."
   "The Voice" ignored the comment for a moment while he thought of a response. "Your comment is pretty rich, considering you promote contorting the very system of government that makes the United States the greatest country in the world.
   "You know, Mr. Hartline, your ego made you an easy target. You strut through Washington without a care in the world-no security or nothin'. You pose for ridiculous photos. We would have had some difficulty finding you if we only had your face and knew of your general location, but your ludicrous hat acted like a neon sign pointing our way right to you. We were able to plan our next move and take decisive action, because you led us right to you." 
   "Well, you perhaps meant it to be decisive," Will said. "The murder attempt was as well-organized as The Bay of Pigs invasion."
   This time, the man at the front was not quick enough to stop Hancock. Pain exploded through Will's abdomen, and he doubled over.
   "You meant it be decisive," Will repeated between gasps for air, not willing to let punishment stop him from speaking out.
   Hancock drew back to strike again. The man at the front motioned. Two large men grabbed Hancock and dragged him out of the barn. "Make sure he understands what it means to disobey!" 
   Will caught his breath. "I see the posters of the founding documents behind you. I saw the originals a few months ago, breathtaking. They, and the flag beside you are meaningless without patriots who embody their words and ideals.
   "You, sir-whatever your name is-seem to me no different than Lenin, or Stalin, or Mao, or Pol Pot, or Kim Jong-Un.
   "You claim allegiance to lofty standards, yet you stand here, instead, a kidnapper and botched murderer. I only continue to breathe because your foot soldier was unwilling to complete his assigned task-assassination. He doesn't seem to have the intellectual acuity to grasp the concept of my unalienable rights, as otherwise you should, given your professed ideals."
   Might was well swing for the fences. They're probably going to kill me anyway.
   "My name is unimportant," the man said, "but you can call me 'Judge.'"
   "Well, Judge," Will said, "since you see fit to confer yourself such a lofty title, perhaps we should have a trial, where I can confront my accusers and defend myself, against your absurd accusations."
   



Chapter 15
   Hancock ripped the duct tape from Will's wrists so he could be tied up with a rope, to a post in the barn. As punishment for their mission failure, Hancock and his chauffer were ordered to guard the prisoner overnight.
   "Did that hurt?" Hancock asked, hoping for an affirmative answer. At this point he was more than happy to inflict pain when and where he could. It was only murder that he yet had difficulty stomaching. "You know, Mister-Judge's decision to grant you a hearing tomorrow isn't going to change your inevitable outcome."
   "Are you saying your 'court' is every bit as rigged as the federal government's, the same government you say you want to re-orient on justice?"
   Hancock stormed out of the barn, tired of trying to match wits with his captive. Hancock now wished he had beaten Will to a pulp when Hancock found he couldn't pull the trigger.
   Throughout the night, Will woke up every time he rolled over. He had to call for a bathroom break three times, which didn't please his jailers. Thankfully, Judge had commanded his men to allow Will use of the outhouse, for Judge didn't want the smell of urine invading the barn, which promised to be fully-occupied the next day once the planned outdoor map-reading training event turned into a moot court session.
   Waking early to stretch his legs, Will felt as ready for the next task at hand as he could be, given his odd circumstances. He kept telling himself he was partially to blame, for these people were simply desperate in the same way he had been, to do something-anything-to stem the tide of tyranny heading their way.
   Months earlier, Will chose his plan, fully aware of the risks. These men merely responded to it, knowing no more than what Will had allowed anyone to know, at the present time.
   We're ultimately on the same side, even as I abhor their tactics and they abhor what they think are mine. So, it is my responsibility to show them a little grace, regarding what they couldn't possibly know.
    A good-sized, rosy-cheeked teen entered carrying a tray of food, with a Colt .44 strapped low on his hip.
   "Here's your breakfast," the athletic looking boy said.
   "Thank you, Wyatt," Will said.
   "Name's not 'Wyatt,'" the kid said.
   "Well, you're wearing your pistol like you're expecting to be in a lethal quick draw contest, like maybe you're Wyatt Earp, or something. Weapons aren't show pieces, Sonny. They are deadly serious and should be treated with the respect they are due."
   The boy's cheeks darkened-now they were burgundy. "I'm as good a man as anyone here, and can shoot this monster of a gun more accurately than most men twice my age," he said. "And I'm ready to die for my country, if need be."
   Will shook his head. "I don't doubt you are, young man. But there's a lot more to patriotism than shiny guns and weighty talk of death. Are you ready to stand alone on principle against everyone surrounding you, including your friends and elders?"
   The kid mumbled something, put down a tray of oatmeal and biscuits, and slumped out of the barn.
   Though he wasn't hungry-fear robs the appetite-Will knew he needed nourishment to be sharp and stay strong. He spooned in the oatmeal and polished off a biscuit. 
   Hancock entered about an hour later with a wash basin, soap, and a towel. "I'll walk you out to the outhouse once more, then you can come back and get ready for your speedy trial in front of a jury of your peers."
   "Sure thing, Charlie," Will said, not yet sure these people could be considered his peers.
   "It's Hancock, John Hancock," Hancock said.
   "You're not worthy of the name," Will said. "The real Hancock was a patriot-legend recalls when he signed his name on the Declaration of Independence, he wrote in letters so large that King George III wouldn't need his spectacles to know who to call a traitor.
   "When the Dunlap broadside had first been printed, Hancock's name-there printed, rather than signed-was the only one thereon, besides an attesting by Secretary Charles Thomson. Hancock-President of the Second Continental Congress-stood alone for many months as the only named instigator before all the Founders later subscribed their names on the original parchment."
   "I know," Charlie said in a way indicating he did not know any of it. 
   At 8:45 AM, Will was escorted back to the barn. Judge soon entered with five others. Judge carried a Bible, which he placed on a small desk with great ceremony. Over the next ten minutes, about two dozen others joined the growing group, including a few women and two teen boys, one the ruddy-faced breakfast delivery service kid. Before Judge sat down, Will raised his hand.
   "What?' Judge said.
   "May I wear my hat?" Will asked.
   "I don't care if you stand on your head. Just shut up so we can get on with this. Sergeant at Arms, verify the prisoner does not have a weapon in his bag."
   Hancock, apparently the bailiff, threw his arms in the air in frustration. "Honestly, Al, I've checked the bag three times."
   Judge-a.k.a. "Al"-rolled his eyes. "Just check the stupid bag."
   Hancock rummaged through the contents of Will's backpack. When he finished, he made a show of dusting off his hands. "All clean, Al- ah, Judge."
   Will reached into his pack and removed his tricorn. He brushed the felt, settled it on his head, then nodded to Judge.
   "We are assembled," Judge said, "to consider the case of The Men of Liberty vs. William Hartline."
   Will inadvertently choked at the mention of the group's name.
   "The prisoner will remain silent until given permission to speak." He looked at Will. "And just what's wrong with our name?"
   "You wouldn't know the meaning of 'liberty' if it bit you on the nose," Will said.
   "Silence, fool," Judge said. "The charge is treason against the United States, but since it won't seek to punish treason, we will."
   "A small point, if you will allow me, sir," Will said. "Literally speaking, you shouldn't have said, 'it' when referring to 'the United States.' You should have used 'they,' as in 'they won't seek to punish treason.' The terms 'United States' and 'United States of America' are plural terms, not singular."
   A herd of cattle would have looked less confused. These men are not the sharpest tools in the shed, Will thought. Perhaps that only made them more dangerous.
   Will continued since he wasn't being told to shut up and his listeners hadn't seemed to follow his point.
   "The Constitution confirms the plural meaning of 'the United States' as the collection of States in every passage where word form is indicated.
   "Consider, for example, Article III and its definition of treason, of which I am accused. 'Treason against the United States consists only of levying War against them, adhering to their enemies,' giving those enemies 'aid and comfort.'"
   He kept going, surprised he was given tacit permission to continue, since Judge hadn't silenced him yet. "The use of the pronouns them and their in Article III indicate a plural understanding of the noun therein referenced-the United States.
   "Let's look at the Thirteenth Amendment. Can you quote the primary point of it?"
   Judge cocked his head. "I suppose you can?"  
   "I thought every patriot could," Will said. 
Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.
   "If 'the United States' was a singular entity, 'its' would have been used, not'their.' There is no such thing as a United States apart from the States united. We have never truly faced a them- versus-us battle between the federal and State governments, for ultimately there is only us.
   "Eliminate the States and the United States automatically cease to exist. But if you eliminate 'the United States,' the individual States remain."
   "What in the Sam Hill does any of this have to do with the price of peas?" Judge asked, who had let the prisoner talk because Judge wanted to see if the prisoner would incriminate himself and thus simplify the proceeding. "More importantly, what does it have to do with the fact you are going to die?"
   Will felt his throat tighten. Show no fear. God is with you.
   "Perhaps consider my exposition a voir dire," he said, "for establishing myself sufficiently to testify on my own behalf."
   Someone spoke from the corner. "As an expert, I suppose-on what? Being a horse's hiney?"
   Judge banged a decrepit old claw hammer on the table. "Enough-everyone," he said.
   "Nice gavel," Will said. "They having a special on those at the antique store?"
   "Silence!" Judge bolted from his chair, looked around, hardly amused by Will's mocking, and resumed his seat. "The accused will show respect for this court."
   Perhaps a better comeback to Will's belittling would have been if Judge had asked Will how he came into possession of his tricorn hat. After all, the hat had undoubtedly passed through many hands before it came to rest on Will's head. Will's comment unintentionally bashed antiques and antique stores, when he only meant to attack the symbolism of Judge using the framing tool to hammer home Will as the 'nail' in a 'court' proceeding that was heading towards a pre-determined outcome, thwarting Due Process.
   But, Will was not necessarily quick on his feet nor in his mind, to make the proper point to be kept from being corrected-he was more of a deep thinker, who preferred to ponder things over time until he could work out the finer details.
   "A consummation devoutly to be wished," Will said, getting further off-track.
   "More Founding Era stuff?" someone asked from the back.
   "Not hardly," Judge said. "It's uh..."
   His expression betrayed his confusion. Will smiled. "Your double negative notwithstanding," he said, "you are correct. Before someone gives credit to either Benjamin Franklin or Thomas Jefferson-both of whom never said half of the things for which they are blamed-let me help you here. It's Shakespeare, Hamlet."
   "So, you are an English scholar as well?" Judge said as he tried to regain control of the hearing.
   "I am not," Will said, "but most of us learned the famous To be or not to be soliloquy in high school."
   "Irregardless," Judge said, (Will twitched but decided not to point out an all-too-common grammatical error), "The witness may speak on his own behalf and is acknowledged to have at least a basic understanding of the Constitution."
   Will doffed his hat and extended a sweeping bow to the man behind the table. "Your humble servant, m' Lord." Perhaps his point was here more valid-mocking the setting and reflecting an era where servants could be dealt with ruthlessly by their lords and masters.
   "Let's begin," Judge said, "so we can wipe the smug grin off your face that much sooner."
   Will raised his hand again. "Another point of order, Judge."
   "What now?"
   "Should we not pray prior to entering into deliberations?"
   "Oh, good grief, man. Fine," Judge said. "Who wants to pray?"
   Everyone suddenly became quite interested in the floor.
   Will spoke. "Judge, I am a believer. I'll be most pleased to ask Heaven for guidance and protection."
   "Well," Judge said, "go ahead-God knows you are going to need it." 
   Will didn't point out Judge had largely been trying to act like God. Instead, Will reverently took off his hat and clutched it over his heart. "Let us approach the gates of grace. Let us pray."
   The assembled bowed their heads. Those wearing hats removed them. Will paused, gathered himself, and put aside his anger, outrage, and fear. When he approached the Eternal Throne, Will liked to be collected and at as much peace as he could manage. He prayed frequently, but this was different. He couldn't remember the last time he'd said a public prayer beyond a Thanksgiving dinner. 
   Inspiration dawned. He began in confidence and faith-the words were not his own, but they, like The Ultimate Audience, were immortal. 
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.
That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the consent of the governed... 
   A few of the men in the room looked at one another but most continued in a reverential pose, held captive by some of the greatest words ever composed. Will pounded on the Gates of Heaven with every fiber of his being. 
...He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected... 
...He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands...
...He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures...
   No one moved as Will recited the Declaration of Independence with as much eloquence as most had ever heard, and with far more ability than Will had ever shown publicly.
...For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
      For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent...
...For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever...
   Will's voice echoed these words of freedom, against injustice and the British Acts of pretended legislation, with clarity and passion-his raison d'etre-the fuel feeding his burning desire to save the country.
...In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury...  
   And he ended with a most powerful benediction. 
We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. 
   Will paused. Then finished in full voice.
And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our Sacred Honor.
   "Amen."
   



Chapter 16
   Judge introduced the prosecutor, an Ichabod Crane look-alike using the pseudonym, Samuel Adams. "Mr. Adams, Mr. Hartline; we will choose a twelve-person jury. Each of you will have two preemptory challenges. Use them wisely. Once they are gone, we seat the guys we want. We don't have an ample supply, you know."
   Adams pointed to a man standing against the far wall. "Can you, Darrel, find the defendant 'guilty' if I show beyond a reasonable doubt that he willfully conspired to overthrow the lawfully-enacted government under the Constitution for the United States of America?"
   "In a New York minute, Stevie," the prospective juror answered.
   Adams shook his head at the juror's use of the prosecutor's real name, which none of these guys-including the prosecutor-couldn't seem to grasp, and then signaled to Will.
   After Adams approved of the prospective juror, Will asked, "How long have you been studying the Constitution and our nation's founding principles?"
   "About five years."
   "Do you have a favorite part?" 
   "The Second Amendment."
   "What about in the originally-ratified Constitution?"
   "The non-delegation doctrine."
   "Which means what, exactly?" Will asked.
   "Meaning the enumerated legislative powers listed in the Constitution are vested in or fixed only with members of Congress, who cannot redelegate those powers to officers of the executive or judicial branches."
   "I accept this juror," Will said, hoping his other choices would be even half as good.
   The process moved along without challenges until they got to Juror #12. The man's eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. He looked like a dog ready to bite its master at the first possible moment. 
   "I would like to exercise my pre-emptory challenge, Judge," Will said to no one's surprise, but both sides were able to seat the next prospect.
   The jury was seated and sworn. Adams called his first witness. "Will Hartline."
   "How will we handle my cross?" Will asked.
   Both Judge and Adams looked confused, not thinking the issue before them now would present itself. Judge finally spoke. "Actually, we presumed you would invoke your Fifth Amendment rights. We just thought we'd give you the opportunity to give testimony, but we didn't expect you to accept."
   "Then what?" Will asked. "You two were just going to continue forward with your collusion, until you could bang your old claw hammer and sentence me, or hadn't you thought that far?"
   Judge bristled a bit, then locked onto Will's eyes. "Do you mean you are waiving your right to remain silent?" 
   "Yes," Will said. "So waived."
   "If you object to a line of questioning, state your objection and I will rule."
   "Oh, that seems imminently fair," Will said.
   Judge either missed or ignored the sarcasm. 
   "Please state your name for the record," the bailiff said. Will took off his hat he had earlier put back on his head.
   "William Jefferson Hartline-H-A-R-T-L-I-N-E," Will said. "My friends call me Will; the prosecutor can call me Mr. Hartline."
   Someone in the back snickered but stopped as soon as Judge smacked the table.
   "Okay, Mr. Hartline," Adams said, getting to his first point. "Are you the author of the position paper, entitled The Political Year Strategy?"
   "I am." 
   "And does the paper describe the means of reinterpreting the word 'Year' as found in the U.S. Constitution, relating to elections for U.S. Senators, Representatives, and the American President?"
   "Yes, and also for Vice Presidents." 
   "Yes, and Vice Presidents-I had not finished my question," Adams said, even though he had obviously finished.
   When Will offered nothing else, Adams continued, "And, in this paper, you suggest changing Election Day for all these federal officers to February 29th-Leap Year Day-which occurs every four years?"
   "No," Will said.
   "What do you mean, 'no?' You just admitted to being the author of this paper that speaks to changing the Election Day to February 29th."
   "You made several errors in your question," Will said, "that prevented me from answering in the affirmative as you seemed to have expected." 
   "Like what?" 
   "To begin, Leap Years do not come about every four years. Having Leap Years every four years was the old standard under the Julian Calendar of 46 B.C., which proved over the long haul to be too often, that caused an incremental calendar shift from the tropical year. In 1752, Great Britain and her North America colonies adopted the Gregorian Calendar, which established Leap Years every four years, except for years divisible by 100, unless the year was also divisible by 400-" 
   "Hey Al, is this going to take a long time?" It was someone in the back. "I got a bad prostate."
   Judge hit the table so hard it splintered the wooden handle of the hammer. "Geez, Baldwin," Judge said, "look what you made me go and do. Go on out and take care of your business. Nobody cares."
   Will heard a door creak, then returned to his answer. "For instance, 1600 was a Leap Year, but 1700, 1800, and 1900 were not. The year 2000 was again a Leap Year, starting off not only the new century but also the new millennium."
   Adams waved both hands in front of his face. "Okay, I concede I was inaccurate if you're going to be hyper-critical about it. Was my other claimed error equally as petty?"
   "If you look at the problems associated with having Leap Years every four years over the long haul, it wasn't petty, or insignificant," Will said. "With the switch in the British calendar, eleven days wrongly accumulated over nearly 1800 years were ultimately discarded. Had the matter not been properly resolved, the ever-shifting calendar would have continued to worsen, until snow came in June. But the calendar mistakes were not your worst."
   "Do tell," Adams said. "I'm glad Mr. Baldwin had excused himself. He'd never make it through the next explanation, I'm sure."
   Will heard two more people sneak out the back.
   Will stretched out a kink lingering from the night before and said, "Let's look at the foundation of how our Republican Form of Government has been magically transformed into a Democracy of inherent power. Mr. Adams, you asserted, or certainly implied, members of Congress are federal officers, planting the fundamental error which lays at the base of our transgressions against the Republic that much deeper.
   "I argue members of Congress are not and absolutely cannot be officers of the United States. The Constitution, in fact, erects an impenetrable Wall of Separation between members of Congress and the federal officers of the executive and judicial branches. In substantial error, your question lumped them together as if there is no consequential difference between them. It is far easier to prevent the improper delegation of legislative powers to federal officers, if you realize members of Congress are of a fundamentally different nature from executive or judicial officers."
   Adams looked blank.
   "If you give all these people the same designation, they appear interchangeable," Will said, hoping further explanation would clarify his point for his listeners. "If interchangeable, it doesn't appear egregious if someone else performs actions vested only in Congress. I could not answer your question affirmatively because I cannot ignore, overlook, or excuse the improper labeling of members of Congress as officers of the United States."
   "But, members of Congress take an oath of office, do they not?" Adams asked, smugly. "As such, members must be considered officers of the United States, just like executive officers and judicial officers.
   "We have three co-equal branches of government to serve as an effective check and balance against one another. The coequality of the federal government is about as fundamental as founding principles ever get-ranking right up there with the concept of States' rights, for example."
   Will wasn't sure even where to begin. "You are repeating popular, mainline conservative soundbites at the appropriate time, but they oppose our country's founding principles," he said. "Ultimately, you're simply digging yourself deeper into a pit of errors, sir, even as the real Mr. Adams would know better. So, let's fix your errors so we may move forward.
   "I guess I'll take first your claim, of Congress being a co-equal branch of the United States. The concept of co-equality sounds good, even wise, perhaps. But it's a myth. Let me ask-who here feels well-protected from excessive government action, today, yesterday, or a decade ago?"
   Not a single hand went up.
   "I didn't think so," Will said. "The co-equality of government asserts the jealousy of each branch guarding against an encroachment from the other branches protects us all. But what happens when all three powers-legislative, executive, and judicial-work together, against private citizens?
   "The concept of co-equal powers rests on a false premise and contrary doctrine. At its base, it suggests those government custodians who exercise delegated government powers instead have inherent federal authority. So, it would take two more tyrants, each exercising arbitrary powers, to keep the other one in check. Another show of hands: does anyone think three tyrants battling one another for supremacy sounds like a particularly great idea?" 
   Again, no hands.
   Will adjusted his hat. "Let me show you how and why the co-equal powers doctrine is false.
   "The first bit of evidence arises when we compare the lengths of the first three articles of the Constitution. Article I, which discusses the legislative powers granted to Congress, takes up over half of the entire Constitution as originally ratified. By contrast, Article II-outlining the executive powers granted to the President-comprises less than a quarter. Article III-judicial powers-uses less than one-tenth of the words found in the original Constitution. Are words found in the Constitution ultimately irrelevant or of wholly differing weights?
   "What I mean is, if the Court is co-equal in power to Congress, then the 377 words found in Article III must be six times as powerful as the 2,268 words of Article I. By the logic of this false premise, the more words used in Article I directly makes each of them less important. I argue the Framers placed more words in Article I, instead to show the greater relative importance of the legislative powers."
   Adams stood and opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and then retook his seat.
   "Indeed, if government is divided into three co-equal branches," Will said, "then why did James Madison, Jr. promote ratification of the proposed Constitution in The Federalist #51 by writing?
In republican government, the legislative authority necessarily predominates.
   "The overwhelming predominance of Congress is one reason why the legislative powers are further divided, into the House of Representatives and the Senate. The U.S. Constitution uses so many words in Article I because of the greater relative importance of Congress, as opposed to the executive or judicial powers."
   Will plowed ahead. "If the enumeration of powers is ultimately meaningless, why wouldn't the Framers have simply assigned the legislative power to Congress, the executive power to the President, and the judicial power to the courts. They could have ended the Constitution then and there, with maybe fifty or a hundred words, right?" 
   Adams nodded with Will's fundamental points, but then scowled with the realization he was either being forced to agree with the man he was prosecuting or violate his own conscience.
   Judge tapped his desk with the head of the hammer that he held in his hand; the hammer which had no workable handle. "Let's take a ten-minute recess. Baldwin's not the only one with bladder issues."
   Except for Will and a guard, and the pimply-faced red head, the barn was empty in thirty seconds.



Chapter 17
   While Will was excluded from the ex parte communication between Judge and Adams in the non-conforming "trial," a small group of men outside smoked cigarettes and chatted.
   "The guy's making Steve look like an idiot," one of them said, who was wearing hog washer bib overalls, boots, plaid flannel shirt, and an Atlanta Braves hat. "He needs to tell this Hartline fella to shut up."
   "Like you could do better, Vern," Hancock said. "You can't keep your own wife quiet for thirty seconds."
   "Well," Vern said. "Ol' Al better do something, or the slippery son-of-a-gun will skate out of here free as a bird."
   There was a grumble of assent. When the noise subsided, a heavily eyebrowed, thick-necked man spoke in a low, gravelly voice. "Won't matter," he said.
   "What did you say, Titus?"
   "Won't matter," Titus said. "They can let Hartline go for all I care."
   "Why in the name of God's green earth would you say that?" Vern's face turned red. The veins on the side of his neck looked like high-tension wires. "The fella's dangerous. He's one of them."
   "One of who?' Hancock asked.
   "Them pinko liberals who are ruining America-you know...them."
   "Yeah," Hancock said. "And he put up one heck of a fight before I subdued him."
   The man who'd driven the night before-Vern-raspberried from the side. "Looked to me like he got in pretty peacefully," he said. "Besides, when you climbed in after him, I could have sworn you were ready to wet yourself."
   Hancock took a step towards the man, who balled his fists.
   "You guys knock it off!" It was Judge, who had trudged out of the barn to gather the flock to continue the trial. 
   "We're reconvening in two minutes. Quit acting like fifth graders, get yourselves together, and go sit down."
   "Stress is getting to Alfred," Vern said once Judge went back inside.
   "Think he bit off more than he can chew," Hancock said, glad he wasn't the only party recently guilty of work less than his best.
   "Like I said, don't matter." Titus picked at his teeth with the tip of a wicked looking hunting knife. "Don't matter one little bit."
   "What do you mean?" Hancock asked. "If we let Hartline go, he'll spread his nonsense all over Washington and all those godless heathens will have us under their thumb from now 'till Christ returns."
   Titus rested up against the back wall of the barn. "I mean," he said, "if they let him go, I'm gonna kill him."


Chapter 18
   When they reconvened, Judge looked at Adams. "Please continue your interrogation, sir."
   Will-with his hat back on his head-interrupted. "Pardon me, Judge, but I have not finished answering Mr. Adams' last question. We were addressing the fallacy of co-equal branches of government."
   "Mr. Hartline, are you simply attempting to postpone the inevitable?" Judge asked.
   "If by inevitable you mean the overthrow of all individual rights and freedoms, yes; I aim to do everything within my limited means and questionable ability to postpone that," Will said. "And I think you will find my next point fascinating."
   "Every bit as riveting as watching paint dry," Judge responded. Judge waved a weary hand. "Go on. I want to remind you're still under oath."
   Judge was finding out he didn't know how to handle Will. He and the others had originally figured it was going to be relatively easy to back Will into a corner out of which they would emerge clearly victorious, enabling them to come up with a plan forward prescribing some form of justifiable punishment.
   But, they were increasingly finding that path closing with each passing moment. They either had to continue with the present course or give up all pretense of a hearing and either order him to be condemned, flogged, or released. 
   Will stood. This time he addressed the room. "When one reads the word Congress, many of us naturally assume the word is singular, referring to an 'entity'-but that is an incorrect assumption."
   "Of course, it is," Adams said trying to get in his licks now any way he could, "because you are so smart and the rest of us (he scratched at his armpits with both hands like a giant ape) is so stoopit."
   "To quote our Lord," Will said, "thou hast said so."
   The place erupted in howls of derisive laughter. Judge, who'd evidently found a replacement hammer, though this time a rubber mallet, banged on the table with a nearly comedic lack of success. When the room quieted, Will said, "Nice hammer, Judge."
   Judge looked sheepish. "It was this or a ten-pound sledge. I didn't want to smash the table."
   Will shrugged and continued, after a lull of speech. "There is a strict division of labor-a clear separation of powers in government-but no co-equality. Let's return to the plural nature of Congress. Article I of the Constitution also discusses taking the census every ten years. Section 2 reads:  
The actual Enumeration shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting of the Congress of the United States...in such Manner as they shall by Law direct.
   "The pronoun used to refer back to Congress is 'they.' As we all learned early in our school days, 'they' indicates something of a plural nature, of multiple parties. Then we go to Section 4:
The Congress shall assemble...on the first Monday in December, unless they shall by Law appoint a different Day."
   "Section 7 indicates if the President does not return a bill within ten Days, the same shall be a law ...
unless the Congress, by their Adjournment prevent its Return."
   When Will took a breath, someone in the back yelled, "So what?"
   Will looked up. "A fine question." He turned to Adams. "Sir, kindly read aloud the poster hanging next to you on the wall-the Bill of Rights-starting with 'Resolved," roughly in the middle of the Preamble."
   "How far?" 
   "I'll let you know when to stop."
   Adams cleared his throat as if preparing to sing an aria at The Kennedy Center.
Resolved, by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America, in Congress assembled-
   "Thank you, sir," Will said. "Well done."
   Adams smiled and sat, showing even compliments from adversaries brighten the day whenever the compliment was well-intentioned.
   "Note the phrasing of the passage-especially the ending," Will said, "'...in Congress assembled.' The Senators and Representatives from the States assemble in Congress and pass resolutions according to their delegated powers. This phrase and ending are found in every legislative resolution ever resolved by Congress under the Constitution.
   "Nearly the same phrase is found in every legislative Act ever enacted, only legislative Acts read 'Enacted' instead of 'Resolved.' We cannot overlook the meaning and importance of the ending of these phrases.
   "Each legislative Act and every legislative resolution confirm U.S. Senators and U.S. Representatives who are elected by the several States of the Union assemble together in a Congress of all the States and pass laws and resolutions within the authority ceded by every State, as evidenced by the written Constitution. Ignoring this fundamental fact places us in considerable peril." 
   Adams shot to his feet. "Your Honor, the witness has strung together a lot of words-a great many words-an exhausting number of words-but what is the point?" 
   Judge looked at Will. "He's right, sir. If your idea is to bore us to death before we can pass judgment against you, I'm going to tell you your plan won't work."
   "Your neglect of fundamental principles of American government stands at the base of everything wrong with our nation today," Will said. "We pay lip service to strict constructionism without any longer understanding how the original document was assembled. Members of Congress represent the principals to the agreement known as the U.S. Constitution-they represent the States. Members of Congress are the spokesmen and spokeswomen of the States in the meeting of the States through their chosen delegates." He pivoted slightly. "Mr. Adams, please indulge me again and do me the honor of reading the opening line of the preamble on the Bill of Rights."
   Adams looked to the front. Judge nodded, in their "trial" where their defendant had turned the tables on the prosecutor and judge, who didn't know how to keep their witness from running the show.
   Again-especially because of the unconventional 'trial'-they either had to let him respond to their questions, or give up all pretense and simply order him executed, flogged, or freed. And, since they hadn't come to any agreement regarding his level of punishment, they saw no other response other than let him answer their questions.
Congress of the United States, begun and held at the City of New York, on Wednesday the Fourth of March-
   Will interrupted. "I'm sorry. Please repeat it again, but stop before you get to the date."
Congress of the United States, begun and held at the City of New York.
   "Exactly," Will said. "Congress...begun and held at the City of New York. Ask yourself. Can the phrase-Congress...begun and held-make any grammatical sense whatsoever, or retain any rational meaning, if Congress means an 'entity' or 'branch' of government, as commonly thought? Of course not. For while an entity may be created-it cannot be held.
   "Unless you subscribe to the belief that the Framers of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights used nonsensical words and irrelevant phrases, you must hold every word to have meaning. And, if today we don't understand the meaning of each word, perhaps the fault is at least partially our own, not necessarily only theirs.
   "If and when, however, Congress means 'meeting,' then phrase begun and held makes perfect sense, because we are talking about an assembly-an assembling together of the pertinent parties who are meeting together in a group setting. A meeting may begin and a meeting may be held, just as an assembly may begin and be held. While an entity may begin by being created, it can never be held.
   "Remember when I quoted Article I, Sections 2 and 4 a few moments ago-speaking to the first enumeration which "shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting of the Congress of the United States...." and also, 'Congress shall assemble?'
   "Meetings assemble-entities do not and cannot.
   "The U.S. Constitution directly acknowledges Congress to be the delegates of the States who meet for enumerated purposes. Therein lies the reason why only members of Congress may propose changes to the Constitution-because only they represent the principals of the agreement. It also explains why the hired officers in the executive and judicial branches never have anything to do with proposing or ratifying amendments and why officers may never legislate for the Union.
   "Members of Congress-even though they are the direct delegates of the States-are themselves completely powerless to make any constitutional changes, though. Members of Congress may only propose amendments-never ratify them. Only States ratify proposed amendments, because only the States are the principals who decide the powers they give to their delegates and agents.
   "And this is why executive and judicial officers may only help execute the written Constitution, or settle disagreements developing under it. Executive and judicial officers may never substitute their will for Congress, let alone the States."
   Adams looked like a schnauzer staring at a dog show on television, his head cocked to one side in dazed interest, struggling to find his footing, but unable to keep up with his able opponent.
   Will drove his point home. "Are you beginning to see why the enumerated legislative powers vested in Congress are fixed with members, and why officers of the executive and judicial branches may never weigh in on Constitutional amendments?
   "Viewed as a corporation, We The People through the States themselves are the shareholders, and members of Congress are the elected Board of Directors. The President, the executive staff, and the Courts, are only appointed corporate officers. The executive and judicial officers never-and I mean never-set or change policy." 
   Will could tell he was losing his audience. "Your Honor, another brief recess, if you please. I'm sure everyone would appreciate it."
   "Ten minutes," Judge said with more enthusiasm than he intended. "And I expect every one of you to come back."
   The occupants fled out of the rear door. 

Chapter 19
   Emerson Nester looked at her watch and shook her head.
   "He's got to be here somewhere," she said. She looked around to ensure no one heard her talking out loud to herself, then continued in thought. Will doesn't strike me as someone who would be late to a confirmed appointment; not if he can help it.
   She looked at her watch again-three minutes later than the last time-then sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. To pass the time, she listed what she knew about the magnificent site.
   Let's see, the figure was designed by Daniel Chester French and produced by the Piccirilli Brothers of Tuscany. Henry Bacon created the monument building. The original concept for the statue was some ten feet tall. Just like everything else in Washington, it bloated over time to nineteen feet. 
   Seems appropriate for the man who heads so many lists as the nation's greatest president.
   Will wasn't there to offer his perspective on the matter-that 1861-1865 stood out as a pivotal period in American history. Beforehand, the United States were considered as a collection of independent States joined together for common concerns under limited federal powers. Afterwards, however, the United States was viewed as a command-and-control central government of immeasurable and undefined power dictating to powerless States.
   The man who helped bring about this fundamental change could not evade all blame, martyrdom aside, Will believed.
   If judging American Presidencies by their track record of sticking to their sworn oath to "preserve, protect and defend" the Constitution they inherited-to keep it intact as the Framers and Ratifiers had given it-President Lincoln would have to be rated much lower on the scale, even if Will personally wished it were otherwise. And, when post-incident government never returned anywhere near the pre-incident status quo, then those who helped direct the change and those who came afterward who didn't call out measures necessary and expedient to restore individual liberty and limited government necessarily held much of the blame. While circumstances beyond one's control cannot be helped, one necessarily remains accountable for one's responses to them.
   Lincoln's hands rest on fasces, Roman symbols of power. Intentionally or not, Lincoln's hands form the sign language letters for A and L. The memorial required eight years to construct and was dedicated in May of 1922. Robert Todd Lincoln, the President's only surviving son, was in attendance. In 1939 and at the invitation of Eleanor Roosevelt, Marian Anderson, the brilliant American contralto, performed a concert here after the Daughters of the American Revolution refused to let her sing at the D.C. Constitution Hall.
   Emerson had always heard about one more snippet of information and decided to check it out for herself. She looked at the north wall and read the words from the sixteenth President's moving second inaugural address. 
   "Yep, there it is." She read the words aloud: "WITH HIGH HOPE FOR THE FUTURE NO PREDICTION IN REGARD TO IT IS VENTURED..." Despite numerous attempts to correct the misspelling, careful observation revealed the original spelling of "FUTURE" had been "EUTURE." No one had ever quite been able to fix the mistake.
   More Washington at its finest, she thought.  
   She sat back on the steps and checked her watch every few minutes until she'd been there an hour. She walked to her car, checking constantly to see if she could spot the missing patriot.
   "Something's wrong," she said. "Something is badly wrong."
   

Chapter 20
   Judge and Adams were conferring again when Will came back into the barn. He'd received permission to use the bathroom and splash some water on his face, accompanied by two escorts. When everyone reassembled, Judge made an announcement.
   "Mr. Hartline has no more than one more hour," he said. "While everyone has been mesmerized by his constitutional knowledge, he still faces the serious charge of treason. No one here has the time for another three hours of lecture."
   "Just take him out and shoot him," a voice from the back said.
   "Or shoot us," someone else added, from up front, helping to lighten the tense mood.
   Even Will smiled at the last wisecrack.
   "Mr. Hartline," Judge said. "I'm assuming you're not finished with your comments. Use your time wisely."
   "It is critical to notice the fundamental difference between the powers delegated to Congress and those delegated to the President and the Courts," Will said, not wasting a precious minute of his remaining hour. "Article III, for example, simply begins:
The judicial Power of the United States, shall be vested in one supreme Court, and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may from time to time ordain and establish.
   "Article II is similar, reading:
The executive Power shall be vested in a President of the United States of America.
   "So, the executive Power is vested in the President and the judicial Power is vested in the Courts. Very simple.
   "Notice the fundamental difference of wording regarding the legislative powers granted to Congress, however. After all, Article I is not worded like Articles II and III. It does not read, for example, The legislative Power shall be vested in Congress. What it actually says is:
All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States...
   "Notice the qualifier-'herein granted'-as these words restrict the legislative powers of Congress for the Union only to those legislative powers specifically enumerated within the written Constitution.
   "Incidentally, the legislative Powers beyond those enumerated are reserved to the States, or to the people, as the party delegating named powers naturally keeps all powers beyond those named and delegated. Of course, the explicit wording of the Tenth Amendment verifies this fundamental truth.
   "While the word 'all' found in Section I may initially look like it could refer to every imaginable legislative power being given to Congress, read it again, carefully. It simply points to legislative powers granted therein all being vested only in Congress. In other words, 'all' is primarily used to prohibit the legislative powers from being exercised by executive or judicial officers, none of whom received any of the enumerated legislative powers for the Union.
   "Indeed, one could write 'only the legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States' and the substituted wording wouldn't extend or restrict the enumerated powers actually granted to legislative members.
   "Substitution of all with only would simply make it less clear neither the President nor the Courts have any legislative power.
   "I hope you're beginning to understand the reason for this fundamental Wall of Separation between Congress and the executive and judicial branches. 'Congress' pertains to the States-the executive and judicial branches comprise the Government of the United States with its offices and officers.
   "Look at the poster of the Declaration of Independence, over on the wall. I can make out its heading from here, clearly reading:
The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America.
   "There were then thirteen united States of America-now there are fifty."
   "But you're ignoring ratification of the U.S. Constitution by pointing to the earlier Declaration," the Prosecutor said, interrupting Will, rather excited he caught Will in an obvious error. "You're intermixing different eras and differing principles. Ratification of the Constitution changed everything."
   "If you are right, then the Eleventh Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, ratified in 1795-six years after the States began meeting under the ratified Constitution-wouldn't and couldn't read as it does," Will answered back immediately.
   "After all, this amendment tells of the judicial power of the United States not being construed to extend to any suit in law or equity, commenced or prosecuted against 'one of the United States' by Citizens of another State, or by Citizens or Subjects of any Foreign State.
   "The Eleventh Amendment to the Constitution for the United States of America directly refutes your charge that ratification of the Constitution changed this principle most clearly enunciated in the Declaration of Independence. This amendment mentions the States united together in common Union, not the United States as a singular entity apart from its members.
   "The individual States of the Union individually exercise their reserved powers locally within their geographic borders, and those same States united together, sharing their united national and federal powers amongst themselves, exercised through their respective delegates, in the meeting of all the delegates of all the States.
   "In contrast, 'the U.S. Government' only refers to the executive and judicial branches, containing the hired guns who carry out the will of Congress that is expressed through enacted law and approved resolutions. Members of Congress are directly empowered by the individual States of the Union, as delineated in the written Constitution.
   "The fundamental difference between Congress and the U.S. Government is why the U.S. Constitution necessarily places a firm divide-a true Wall of Separation-between members of Congress and the hired federal officers of the executive and judicial branches who represent no State, but only carry out the will of Congress as evidenced by enacted law and approved resolutions. This divide is why the U.S. Constitution, in Article I, Section 1, expressly 'vests' or 'fixes' the enumerated legislative powers all and only in Congress.
   "This division is why every State of the Union is expressly guaranteed a Republican Form of Government, in Article IV, Section 4. A 'Republican Form of Government' means a Representative Form of Government, legislative representation being the fundamental building block of the Union.
   "Our Declaration of Independence pointedly declares legislative representation to be 'a right inestimable' to the American people-something of such prime value it cannot accurately be measured. It is, to use a more common word, priceless. The Declaration further declares all efforts to extinguish legislative representation are formidable to tyrants only. Some time ago when I interviewed the first juror-"
   "You mean back when we were all still young?" Will recognized this voice-Hancock.
   "As you wish," Will said, admitting the comment was funny even as the trial was decidedly serious. He could not allow anyone to knock him off course as his life seemed to depend upon it. However, there were now too many people involved with his capture and forced restraint for anything too sinister to happen to him, which gave him the comfort he needed to push harder.
    "Juror #1 earlier-mentioned Congress may exercise the enumerated legislative powers and members cannot delegate these powers elsewhere. This Non-Delegation Doctrine rests on Article I, Section 1 vesting the enumerated legislative powers only in Congress.
   "But Article I, Section 6 is also key. It shows just how firmly this separation of powers is from executive and judicial officers. To wit, in Clause 2: 
no Person holding any Office under the United States, shall be a Member of either House during his Continuance in Office.
   "Being an officer of the United States directly prevents a person from simultaneously being a member of Congress. Of course, those same words indirectly prohibit any member of Congress from simultaneously ever holding any office under the United States.
   "Here is the critical question to show your error-how may a member of Congress hold an office of the United States if the Constitution would thereby bar them from their legislative seat?"
   Adams, both weary and clearly out of his depth, shook his head, asking only, "But, as I mentioned earlier, members of Congress take an oath of office, do they not?"
   "Let's look into the odd curiosity, present with us only since 1863," Will answered.
   "By the command of Article VI, all members of Congress and federal officials-save the President (who has his own special oath, to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution, and faithfully execute his office)-are required to swear an oath or give an affirmation to support the Constitution.
   "In conformance with the stated requirement, the very first Act of the very first session of the very first Congress in 1789 created the 14-word oath to 'support' the Constitution.
   "However, the oath was curiously changed during the Civil War, to include reference to an 'office.' For the first time ever, members of Congress thereafter began swearing an oath to an office they were about to enter."
   This is it, Will thought. If I don't get them now, I may be in trouble.
   "Here's the bottom line," Will said. "Whatever office members of Congress are about to enter, since 1863, it is not, was not, and absolutely cannot ever be, an office of or under the United States. Members of Congress-who are effectively barred constitutionally from holding an office under the United States-at the most unstable and divisive time in American history, began swearing an odd oath to well and faithfully discharge the office on which [they] were about to enter, so help [them] God.
   "Nice touch, isn't it-citing a reference to our Creator, The Ultimate Source of Truth, with a hidden lie? It allows non-thinking people to feel good about being swindled out of their liberty."
   Will was slowly gaining his audience's attention even as they struggled to keep up. While Will's life theoretically depended upon his ability to simplify his message, he just couldn't get there.
   The rumblings ceased. Will heard a gasp. After a long moment of silence, the air filled with angry whispers as a few of those in attendance began to catch on to what Will had just said.
   Adams began to stammer, "But...but...what about Section 2? The House of Representatives chooses their Speaker 'and other officers,' so it's obvious Representatives must be, or at least must have, officers. And Section 3 says the same thing about the Senate."
   Adams regained his composure; certain he had finally punctured a small hole in Will's argument. 
   Will grinned. "It is true, Article I, Sections 2 and 3 declare what you claim," he said. "However, those sections point to the few legislative officers who are not and cannot be officers of the United States-who cannot be government officers.
   "The only members of Congress who are legislative officers are the Speaker of the House and the President Pro Tempore of the Senate. Yes, there is a Sergeant at Arms, a Clerk of the House, a Secretary of the Senate, Chaplains, and the like, but none of those legislative officers is a member of Congress.
   "To the extremely limited extent legislative officers are members of Congress, they don't normally vote, except to break a tie. There simply are no other legislative officers who are members of Congress. Thus, the oath all members-besides the Speaker and President Pro Tem-now take cannot point to a legislative office under the U.S. Constitution, because only the senior member of each House holds an office that is legislative in origin."
   Will's voice echoed around the room. "Article I, Section 2 specifically says the House of Representations is composed of Members-don't complicate matters beyond that clear designation and that purposeful differentiation.
   "Section 3 details the Senate shall be composed of two Senators from each State, while Section 5 lists 'each House' doing various things with its own 'Members'-thereby showing Senators are also considered Members, never Officers.
   "The oath required in Article VI clearly and intentionally separates members of Congress from executive and judicial officers.
   "Article II, Section 3 declares the President shall commission 'all the Officers of the United States.' But, of course, he never commissions members of Congress.
   "Section 4 outlines that all civil officers are subject to impeachment while Article I, Section 5 makes it clear members of Congress may only be expelled within and by their own Houses-never impeached by the House and convicted by the Senate."
   Will hit Adams with one haymaker after another, pummeling the prosecutor with chapter and verse of the Constitution-all without use of a single note. Will knew God had been guiding his tongue that otherwise was normally tied into knots, which would have resulted in his hanging if the court had been so inclined. 
   Adams rested his chest on the table in front of him and held up his hands, before standing up.
   "I can't believe I got so much wrong, Judge, with me only asking five or six simple questions and making a few comments, using no more than a hundred or two hundred words," Adams said. "It's not like I said anything outside of what is considered normal conservative principles today."
   Will said nothing more, although his face seemed to admit there was more-as it appeared his opponent was nearing his tipping point and Will felt the need to show some grace, rather than trying to push his opponent over the edge without further provocation.
   "What, are you saying there's more?" Adams asked, who didn't think there could possibly be more.
   "I said nothing else," Will answered.
   "With your voice, maybe," Adams said, "but your expression says otherwise. Okay, let's have it."
   "Since I'm not really in a position to decline, I will respond," Will said, as Adams sat back down, due to his mental fatigue.
   "You mentioned another topic familiar within conservative politics-States' rights. But, the idea of any American government having 'rights' inherent within it makes a mockery of true rights, which are unalienable rights given created man by his Creator.
   "But God did not create government-man did. 
   "Look to the Declaration of Independence again, to see its words declaring that 'all men are created equal,' being 'endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights,' among them being 'Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.'
   "The idea man-made government could have rights inherent within it, rather than man simply giving government delegated powers and allowed capabilities, transforms the government into an entity equal with man, if not superior to it. Asserting man-made governments have 'rights' infers man permanently gives them up, or at least gives his God-given rights over to government, which is false.
   "Look at our Bill of Rights-every time you see the word rights used therein, realize those rights belong to created man. In contravention, American governments have but delegated powers.
   "It is no coincidence the Tenth Amendment pointedly speaks to 'The powers not delegated' to the federal government being reserved to the States, or Article I speaks to the enumerated legislative powers granted Congress; Article II speaks to the executive powers granted the President; and Article III speaks to the judicial powers vested in the supreme and inferior Article III courts.
   "This topic of denying man's unalienable rights by asserting American governments also have 'rights' is nowhere better showcased than by the Second Amendment where it speaks to the 'right of the people to keep and bear arms.'
   "As everyone knows, proponents of unlimited government repeatedly assert the Second Amendment's pointing to 'the militia' supposedly means only those people serving as part of the State-regulated militia have the right to keep and bear arms.
   "Of course, this warped view rests upon the false premise that American governments have 'rights,' instead of delegated powers.
   "But, ask yourself if the 'people' of the Second Amendment who have the right to keep and bear arms are different from the 'people' of the First Amendment who may 'peaceably assemble.' Or, different from the 'people' of the Fourth Amendment who are 'to be secure in their persons, papers and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures.' Or, different from the Ninth Amendment 'people' who retain the reservation of other rights beyond those mentioned.
   "People who claim 'people' and governments equally have 'rights'-as the Declaration of Independence and U.S. Constitution hold the term-absurdly assert the Ninth Amendment's reservation of non-enumerated rights to the people thereby necessarily mean they are also reserved 'to American government,' which is absurd on its face. Or that governments may peaceably assemble, or be secure in their 'persons' against unreasonable searches and seizures.
   "Ask yourself, are proponents of this false view-that assert governments have 'rights'-reciprocally concluding that private citizens may reasonably 'search' and/or 'seize' government property? If 'people' may mean 'government,' shouldn't 'government' then reciprocally mean 'people?'
   "The false viewpoint of governmental 'rights' to keep and bear arms under the Second Amendment also wholly ignores Article I, Section 8, Clause 16 of the U.S. Constitution-where members of Congress are already given the express and enumerated power to provide for the 'organizing, arming and disciplining of the militia' and employing them in the service of the State or country.
   "Since the sixteenth clause of the eighth section of the first article already gives Congress the enumerated power to arm the militia, why would the Second Amendment need to speak again to the State militia, formally constituted, unless it were integral to the whole body of people-people who have unalienable rights, including self-defense?
   "The first Congress which proposed the Bill of Rights-and the States which ratified the amendments-didn't confuse 'the right of the people' to mean 'the right of the States.' Please understand American States and American government never have 'rights,' as the Constitution and Declaration of Independence understand the term (of unalienable, God-given rights [given only created man]).
   "The State legislatures who ratified the first ten amendments knew the phrase 'the people' always referred to private individuals and 'rights' only pertained to created mankind, never government. American governments only have delegated powers.
   "States' rights is an oxymoron-a contradiction of terms. Use instead, the reserved powers of the States. Although this phrase is less succinct, at least it reflects a proper understanding of core principles we confuse to our peril."
   "Oh my goodness-no more," Adams protested. "I cannot hear any more. Not today. Nor probably tomorrow. I know when I'm licked. I give up.
   "We haven't even gotten to The Political Year Strategy yet, but I can't go on any longer, at least until I rest my weary mind. And, deep in my gut, I feel it is fundamentally wrong to carry this trial over to another day and hold Mr. Hartline captive another night, simply for speaking the unmitigated truth no one else even knows.
   "I don't know what Mr. Hartline has up his sleeve regarding his Political Year Strategy, but unless he is the Devil Incarnate, I don't see how he could talk out of both sides of his mouth with such earnestness. I readily accept he must know what he is doing, and I pray he is only extending the rope, for what I hope are our mutual adversaries, to allow them to hang themselves."
   Judge didn't know what to do-the trial had gone nothing like he had planned. 
   "Mr. Hartline, I have to ask-I don't understand either how anyone can talk the way you have today and yet still compose something as heinous as The Political Year Strategy. Help me understand, please. But, I ask now for your mercy-be succinct. Answer like your life depends upon it, because none of us here have your endurance for going on indefinitely, to reach ever-finer points upon which our Republic rests. We're already past our limits."
   Will scanned the room, and then asked, "Do you agree political matters are seldom what they seem?" 
   "Why, yes; most definitely," Judge answered.
   "Well," Will said, "have you ever heard of a monkey trap?"
   "You mean, you are setting up the tyrants in D.C. for a fall?" Judge asked, hearing the word "trap" and hoping Will was speaking to an intention of capturing his ultimate prey-their mutual prey.
   "Yes, your Honor," Will answered, as he gave Judge the measured respect he had earned for seeing through his own hatred, and voluntarily coming to the conclusion he opposed only a few short moments before.
   With Will's admission, Judge finally saw through the absurdity of reacting before he had all the facts. His previous plan contained a critical error, because he and his fellow radicals only saw what had been willingly revealed, without adequate investigation behind the scenes, for a fuller understanding.
   It was foolish to act harshly and permanently when one saw only half the equation. Only after a prolonged investigation into the heart of the matter, following all the evidence wherever it led, could hope to give investigators sufficient chance to act with some level of permanence.
   What Will had done with the best of intentions followed the same path as those who acted with the worst of intentions, but with opposite results.
   Here, the good had been hiding within what appeared (from the perspective of strict-constructionists) to be bad, whereas two centuries of deception perhaps initially appeared to be good, but was, of course, very bad.
   Either way, one could only plot a full, proper and permanent course by discovering the underlying missing pieces of the story.
   This invariably meant that actions responding to only the visible half the story would be bad, even if, for example, good-intentioned constitutional amendments were being recommended to combat improperly-diagnosed symptoms.
   Without knowing the whole story, it is never good to act with permanence, such as proposing constitutional amendments, other than if one doesn't mind resting only on blind luck.
   Judge suddenly realized the wisdom of the Founders in installing a Republican Form of Government, which never conceded to reactionary, mob-rule tactics, nor resorted to The Political Expediency of The Loudest Voices.
   Adams dragged himself into a standing position again for his last words as prosecutor on the matter. "Your Honor, I have heard more truth from this man today than I have witnessed from all the expositors of the Constitution in my lifetime.
   "If this man is guilty, I pray to Almighty God to carry even a fraction of his guilt. I thought I knew the Constitution. I considered myself somewhat as a lay expert, and to some degree you did also, which is why you asked me to prosecute the case. But, I have never heard such truth as I have heard today.
   "I find Mr. Hartline's thoughts to be wholly consistent with the guiding principles of our beloved nation and humbly request this court to drop all charges. We need to hear more from Mr. Hartline, if he would ever consider speaking with us again. Just not today-my mind cannot take any more. I need time to ponder what I have heard and regroup my thoughts."
   Judge did not hesitate. "I concur," he said. "The Defendant is free. But, we all pray he is a forgiving man, and boldly ask him to return voluntarily to us in the near future to tell us what we are yet missing."
   Everyone in attendance cheered-the assembled audience and those on the jury included. Well, almost everyone. A few men in the back of the barn could be heard uttering a few obscenities, as they slammed open the door and stormed out.
§§
   A morose Vern pulled the pickup to the curb in front of Will's apartment. From his place in the front seat next to the driver, Charlie-Hancock looked at Will. 
   "You got lucky, buddy," he said. "You may have fooled Al and Stevie, but some of us know you're up to something horrible. We'll be keeping an eye on you. We are hardly convinced of your innocence."
   Will was too exhausted to reply since he had been freed. He stepped out of the vehicle, climbed the stairs, went into his apartment, collapsed on the bed, and slept for ten straight hours.
   
   
   
Chapter 21
   The jackhammer would not stop-it pounded and pounded and pounded until...
   ...Will realized he was not hearing machinery but someone nearly knocking down his door.
   He pulled on a pair of jeans and walked to the door, rubbing his eyes. A closed fist descended from the doorway, which he was surprisingly able to dodge as Emerson stumbled into his room.
   "What are you doing?" he asked yet half-asleep.
   "Where in the name of everything sacred have you been?" she asked, happy to see him but mad at him for not keeping her informed as to his whereabouts after missing their meeting. Her cheeks were flushed, and her breathing was erratic from worry. "We were supposed to meet the other night at the Lincoln Memorial. You never showed! I've been worried sick."
   Will slapped his forehead, forgetting entirely the scheduled meeting with Emerson two nights earlier. "I'm sorry, I was tied up," he said, without Emerson realizing the truth of his previous circumstances, "I hope you will forgive me."
   "You should have called me," Emerson said.
   "I'm sorry, I couldn't-" Will said.
   "If this is going to take a while, the least you could do is offer a girl a cup of coffee."
   "I'm sorry, but I haven't any," Will said. "I don't drink coffee." 
   "Why does it not surprise me you'd be different, and not drink coffee?" Emerson asked as her exasperation began to subside knowing Will was safe.
   "So, how did you know where I live?" Will asked.
   "I'm an investigative reporter," she said. "Besides, this is D.C.-there are no secrets."
   "I'd argue D.C. is The Capital of Secrets, myself," Will answered. 
   "Well, please get me a glass of water," she said, not caring to argue his point. "And do something with your hair-or at least what's left of it."
   Will turned and saw a slight grin.
   I'm easing my way out of the doghouse.
   Forty minutes, two cups of water, and the remainder of a box of somewhat stale donuts later, Will finished recounting his adventure of the previous thirty-six hours.
   "You need to go to the police," Emerson said. "Those guys were going to kill you."
   Will shrugged. "I think most of them were all bite and no bark," he said. "The Judge-his name was Al, Alfred Jackson-decent sort-"
   "Decent sort, after you get past all the 'we're gonna kill you for treason' stuff, right?" Emerson was not one bit amused. At first, Will thought what he was seeing in her eyes was fear-but he realized it was rage.
   "Those guys are exactly what's wrong with this country. Everyone-and I mean everyone, regardless of political leaning-wants to take everything to an extreme. The country is on the verge of civil war, and guys on both sides draw these stupid lines in the sand and claim they are willing to defend them to the death. And most of them are serious-deadly serious. We have serious issues in this country alright-but it only means we need serious solutions-not more crackpots who go off half-cocked."
   Will waited a moment while Emerson calmed down, venting her bottled up fears for the worst.
   "I agree," he said. "But I don't know if The Men of Liberty are any worse than anyone else."
   "You don't have to say it-I did," Emerson said. "I also said they are indicative of where we're heading as a nation on both sides. We are trying to govern from the edges. That's why I like you. You're passionate-and maybe a little extreme, at least some people might think so. But, you are measured and thoughtful, and informed-" 
   "Don't leave out thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent," Will said. 
   Emerson laughed-and she relaxed a little bit more.
   "Your idea is bold, and I see mostly what you are trying to do with it. You are yet fooling everyone else, but you have at least one person in your corner."
   They talked for two more hours as Will explained more of his strategy. Emerson kept up much better than The Men of Liberty, with her background and sharp mind, although she would have understood far more if she had been able to sleep the past few nights.
   "As you suggested, I've passed out copies of your strategy paper to people who will oppose it with every fiber of their being.
   "I haven't told any of them anything yet about its true purpose, as bait for the trap you set and hope to spring soon. A few of them are foaming at the mouth already. They are working day and night against it, writing white papers and editorials, scheduling radio interviews, making podcasts-the whole works.
   "When can we tell them the rest of the story?"
   "It's nearly time, I imagine," Will said. "If you could please get me a list of names of your best guesses who I should contact first, that would help. I'm hoping one or more of your contacts will be brave enough to listen to their apparent adversary explain his true purpose.
   "I know my biggest hurdle will be getting the people I want to help me spring the trap, to listen to me explain its hidden aspects. But, if The Men of Liberty listened, I feel fairly confident at least one person on your list will too, who could then explain it to others. I'm hoping they'll give me a chance if you ask them to listen. Otherwise, I'm afraid I would be barred-if not tarred, and feathered."
   "I would say my best contact, for you to reach out to first, would be the American Jurisprudence Center. As fine of a group of men and women as you'd ever care to meet. Dedicated. Hardworking. True patriots. The center is run by the Founder and President, Jim Connery."
   "Thanks, Emerson," Will said, "I was confident you could help me to jump-start the springing of my trap."
   "I will do what I can to help you. I've already written most of an expose, but I need to amend it after understanding things a little bit better today. I have an editor friend who will assuredly help me get it published, once I fill him in on it.
   "I've also pieced together the outline for a hard-hitting television special, but I don't really know if my station-or any station-will be willing to air it. But, if need be, I'll take it to a half-dozen podcasters who will jump at the opportunity even should my work contract prevent me from attaching my name to it. Thank heavens we have options today we didn't a generation ago."
   "Great news," Will said. "Thank you so much for working quietly behind the scenes to put The Political Year Strategy into the right hands to jumpstart the final phase of my plan. But, I don't want you put in harm's way."
   "Got to get back to work," Emerson said, looking at her watch and ignoring Will's concern. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small package.
   "I want you to take this. It's a burner phone. I got it yesterday after not hearing from you. I couldn't contact you, as I wanted to. I programmed my cell number in there.
   "If anything happens again like it happened to you the other night, you've got to try and call me, or someone. Slip it into your boot or something, if you think another bunch of...ah...enthusiasts might take you somewhere in the middle of the night. Okay? Promise me."
   Will took the phone even as he would have otherwise refused it before his abduction. He couldn't put those he asked to help through any more grief than he could realistically try and prevent. "How much do I owe you?"
   Emerson shook her head. "It's a gift from one friend to another." 
   "You don't need to buy me a phone, Emerson," Will said, somewhat embarrassed from his current position of accepting a gift for what everyone else on the civilized planet already possessed.
   She ignored his comment. "Do you know about 9-1-1?"
   Will let out a snort. "You really think I'm a Neanderthal, don't you?"
   Emerson giggled as she walked out. "Well, if the cave fits."
   She exited the building and walked to her car. She never noticed Titus slouched in his pickup across the street, who recognized his new adversary immediately.
§§
   After showering and grabbing a quick bite to eat, Will headed out for the day. As he was leaving his building, he caught a glimpse of Titus-the angriest of the angry men at The Men of Liberty meeting-sitting in his Ford pickup.  
   Will went about his business-going first to a local church and then sightseeing-making a mental note of his pursuer and make and model of the vehicle.
   The next morning, Will again noticed Titus watching from his pickup.
   Will altered his Monday morning plans, and decided to walk long enough to get lost in the crowds rather than look for Emerson's highest recommended contact as he had planned. Three hours later, he was nearing the Library of Congress, confident he had lost Titus on his circuitous walk.
   Will spotted Mike sitting on a bench. Will decided it was a good time for a lunch break. He would search for the American Jurisprudence Center after eating. 
   "Well, hello again, Mike," Will said. "This does appear to be your regular spot."
   "Every day it doesn't rain, I'm typically out here with my rabbit food," Mike said rather matter-of-factly, "unless I have a lunch meeting as I said before."
   Will held out half of his sandwich, trying to break the ice, as Mike seemed a little more reserved today as compared to the day they had met, which seemed odd.
   "Get thee behind me, Satan," Mike said with a grin, motioning towards the sandwich even as the words chosen seemed to reflect Mike's underlying mood toward Will. "After you shared your sandwich with me the other day, I spent the next day craving peanut butter. Old habits die hard, you know."
   They ate in silence for a few moments. "It's Sterling," Mike finally admitted. "My last name is Sterling. I don't think I mentioned it the other day."
   "Sterling is a fine name. It brings to my mind sterling silver at its historic British .925 fineness. Of course, I prefer the American standard of .900 fineness, the longest-used purity standard in American coinage history. I'm sorry, I'm-" 
   "Will Hartline, I know," Mike said. "You know, that blasted paper of yours is spreading all over town. I know both Leaders of the Senate have a copy, meaning the Speaker of the House also has it. And, of course, President Trapp.
    "In another day or two, there probably won't be four people in D.C. involved in politics who won't know your name, even if they couldn't yet put a face to your name. You're becoming quite the topic of conversation. I figured out who you were shortly after our last meeting.
   "Well, I knew the President had my paper," Will said. "Bert Maples came out to see me in Washington State."
   "You still have all your fingers and toes?" Mike asked. "You need to watch out for Bert Maples, if even half the stories about him out there are true."
   "Figured that out myself," Will said.
   Again, there was silence. Will could still sense tension.
   "Something bothering you, Mike?" he asked.
   Sterling chewed, swallowed, then spoke. "Yeah," he said, "I guess so. The other day when we met, I thought you were a decent guy. Then I saw your picture in the tabloid after one of our staff members brought some rag into my office to show me. I put two and two together. The Senate Leaders and the President aren't the only ones who've seen your dirty little scheme. My team at the office and I have spent several days going through it with a fine-tooth comb.
   "We pretty much hate everything about it, even though it is merely more of the same nonsense that has been floating around this town for decades and even centuries, now just taken to the next absurd level.
   "I'll admit, we're not sure at this point what we're going to do to stop it, but rest assured, we will fight it tooth and nail. We've already released several editorials against it and a podcast. We even put the finishing touches on a thorough white paper this morning that I released just before lunch."
   Wow, things really do get around this town.
   "So, how are you planning to fight it, if I may be so bold as to ask?"
   "Well, I didn't say we know how best to proceed yet-at this point, we're mainly pointing out how ludicrous it all is."
   "Perfect!" Will responded before adding, "where did you get a copy of The Political Year Strategy? And why?"
   "Our administrator said she didn't know the person who brought by a copy for us, but said it was a young lady, quite tall, someone who she thought was recognizable, even as she couldn't place at the time. The visitor was in a hurry, so she didn't stay around long enough for anyone else to recognize her."
   Emerson. 
   Mike continued. "As to 'why'-I work with a conservative think tank dedicated to returning this country to its roots-actually, to its constitutionally-mandated roots."
   "Fantastic," Will said. "Any chance the woman who dropped off my strategy paper was the reporter, Emerson Nester?"
   "I never thought of Emerson Nester," Mike answered. "I was thinking more in the line of a government whistleblower or a college professor. Why did you ask about her, or anyone, specifically?"
   "She was distributing my paper to her contacts she knew would hate it, on my request."
   "What? At your request?" Mike asked, startled. "Why would the author of that paper want my office to have an early copy? We're going to be among its greatest adversaries."
   "Because I specifically asked Emerson to distribute it to the people who would be among its greatest adversaries," Will answered.
   "I don't get why a reporter wouldn't run with the story on his or her own, but instead drop it off to our facility. Something isn't adding up," Mike said.
   "I asked her to wait to write anything or do any interviews or an expose, until the story blows up," Will said.
   "I still don't get it," Mike said. "It is typically reporters who try and blow up a small story into a big story, to get people to pay attention to a particular issue, and establish themselves as a reporter who investigates important stories. Why wouldn't she just run with her exclusive story?"
   "It's a little complicated," Will answered. "She knows my whole plan. I've asked her not to respond to the bait I've laid out for everyone else. Instead, I asked her to drop off the strategy paper to her conservative contacts-to entice them to react to the bait, so they may rightfully object to the objectional topic.
   "It was too early to reveal the full purpose of my strategy, which is to expose the fraud behind two centuries of growing federal tyranny. Emerson will save her story for the grand reveal-for the eventful springing of my trap."
   "Okay, now you have me really intrigued," Mike said. "What gives? What am I missing?"
   "Before I answer, may I ask you where you work?" Will asked.
   "The American Jurisprudence Center," Mike answered. "I'm a strategist there. We're right around the corner."
   "Wow, this cannot be a coincidence," Will answered. "I was planning to go by there this morning, but I got sidetracked. Emerson said I should check first with your organization, of all her recommendations that she was going to give me to check out.
    "That Emerson gave you a copy, even as we nevertheless found one another on our own, leads me to think you might be just the person or group I've been searching for, for decades now."
   "Decades?" Mike asked, surprised, since the date on the paper was less than two months old. "And why would you be looking for me, or my staff, given what you wrote? Again, I'm lost."
   "Let's just say I'm here to re-shoe the government."
   Mike had at that moment been washing down his lunch with his soda, which suddenly blew out of his nose from his laughter.
   "I think you mean re-boot," as his nose stung from the soda.
   "Duly noted," Will said, sheepishly, as he again failed to understand and use here what he thought was the language of the day. "I guess I shouldn't try to use hip technical lingo."
   Mike laughed again, but almost cried. "I'm not sure how to say this without offending you, but perhaps you shouldn't try to use modern slang. You don't seem to have much of a knack for it."
   Mike grew serious. "I must admit, I don't get you, but I'm intrigued. The other day, you came across as a limited-government guy. But then I found out you wrote your abominable paper."
   "A slight correction, if you please," Will said. "Perhaps the subject was abominable, but the paper-"
   "Point taken," Mike said. "The paper is well-enough constructed. But, geez, what a preposterous concept-increasing every term of office 400%! What am I missing? Spill it." 
   Will picked at a hangnail for a moment to let his growing internal tension subside so he could ignore, at present, the obvious segway he'd normally dive into regarding terms of office for members of Congress.
   Will had difficulty ignoring rabbit holes like terms of office for members of Congress, which was a habit that caused him to lose so many of his potential listeners. Indeed, topics like that were vitally important in their own right, even as most people would consider them finer points that may be safely ignored, so one could concentrate instead on the biggest issues first. Will had the not-necessarily-favorable ability to take most any point into a full-blown discussion on everything, into incredible depths, at most any time.
   "You know, Mike, I don't know much about this town, but one thing seems true."
   "Which is?"
   "That few things here are as they seem. We haven't known each other long, but if I ask you to trust me, would you be willing to give me a little grace, so I could explain myself and my full strategy?"
   "More than willing," Mike answered as the conversation and Will's demeanor suggested there was much more to learn under the surface of the most important paper to hit town in a very long time.
   "Okay." Will took a deep breath, as he reached into his bag and touched his hat. The hat sufficed for Will's crutch, to reach back to the mindset of those who came before, who formed our nation.
   The hat seemed to help tie Will to the principles of the past, even at the risk of making it more difficult for Will to communicate with people of the present.
   For him, it was an either-or situation, not both, and he had long ago made his choice. His decision then, seemed to keep him from being able to change it now.
   While Will was comfortable with himself, he didn't really know how to interact well with others. And, any apprehension he experienced speaking with others only diminished further his ability to communicate with them.
   Sometimes, when people are well-suited for a particular task, other tasks beyond it take a decided hit, even if they are otherwise ordinary tasks. A higher ability on one area, may easily lead to a lower ability everywhere else, at least in people who weren't necessarily well-rounded.
   "For thirty years, I've aimed to tear down the bureaucracy directly. But my words fell on the deaf ears of those who should have been in the choir singing the same tune. I simply couldn't get through to the people who claimed to share my overall point of view. So, I decided to lay out the opposition's next play for them, to hand tyrants the means they need to move forward towards absolute rule."
   "Why are you intentionally trying to run a ball through your own goal posts? Why on earth would you want to help the other team win?" Mike asked.
   "I didn't say I was helping them to win-only showing them their next step. My intent was to steer them to a particular place, to hasten their demise," Will said. "This paper is the bait-a lure-a monkey trap."
   "Say more." 
   "I'm no wildlife expert but I read about old monkey traps where the trapper put something irresistible-like a banana, in this case-into a sturdy container that had a narrow opening and anchor it to the ground. After detecting the desired object, a monkey reaches in and grabs it."
   Mike nodded. "And because it wouldn't let go of the prize, the monkey became a prisoner-or dinner-by its own greed."
   "There you go," Will said. 
   "So, this paper of yours is bait for a trap you plan to spring?"
   "Yes," Will said. "I'm hoping and praying that you will consider helping me spring it." 
   "Well," Mike said with a broad grin, as he was being invited to become a monkey-catcher, "you certainly picked a place with an awful lot of greedy monkeys." 
   


Chapter 22
   Mike looked at his watch when his buzzer rang out again, "I guess it's already time for me to head back to work."
   "Go ahead," Will said. "I'll take care of the trash here."
   Mike stood up, took a few steps, then turned. "Say, you were going to come to my office, why don't you just come with me now?"
   Smiling from ear-to-ear, Will couldn't be happier that his foot was already firmly in the door of Emerson's favorite think tank.
   Although he had planned to give them a few more days to work against his paper, Will figured that was no longer necessary. After all, he already had his foot in the door of Emerson's favored organization. They had already responded against his paper, and there were a dozen other organizations still proceeding against his strategy.
   Mike had understated his position; he was Senior Policy Director. As they worked their way down the corridor. Mike spoke to all the policy staff, then knocked on the door of a large office in the back corner.
   "Jim Connery," Mike said, "I would like to introduce you to Will Hartline."
   Jim stuck out his hand. "Nice to...oh my goodness, not the Will Hartline. I'm not sure if I should shake your hand or run you through with the saber on the wall behind me."
   Will recognized the weapon behind Jim only as a sword. It was evidently fashioned after those used by the French Hussars. The weapon featured a carved, hardwood grip in a spiral pattern, and a gleaming curved blade.
   "Magnificent," Will said, "but if your weapon of choice would be that sword, I'd have to choose a shotgun or pistol, depending upon the size of the fighting arena."  
   "You don't fight fair, Mr. Hartline," Jim said.
   "I fought 'fair' for three decades, Mr. Connery," Will said. "And I got tired of losing. I decided a few months ago it was time to start winning. All is fair in love and war, they say. Well, I decided to wage this political war as a last-ditch effort to avoid a shooting war-a civil war."
   The policy staff gathered in a conference room tastily decorated with a historical theme, after Jim agreed to let Will speak to the entire staff.
   Jim introduced Will in a succinct, but none-too-welcoming, manner. "Friends, this is Will Hartline of The Political Year Strategy." There were murmurs and several boos. Jim continued. "Out of respect for Mike, who invited our guest, let's hear out Mr. Hartline before we toss him out the window."
   There was no "I'm just kidding" wink. The audience chuckled lightly, not really knowing what to make of Jim's comment, since he wasn't known as a jokester. Mike looked at the assembled. There was not a friendly face anywhere.
   Will reached into his bag and produced the hat. He certainly was going to need it with this crowd. He didn't even bother commenting about it, since his audience had already seen the tabloid photo. Instead, he immediately broke into dialogue, even as it quickly shifted toward a monologue.
   "Thank you, Mr. Connery. If you can possibly ignore my Political Year Strategy for the moment, please do so. Before you can understand the trap I've set, I need to first give you the background you're missing, so you will be able to make sense of my full strategy.
   "We are in our position today, politically-under the thumb of an absolute government-because no one stopped Alexander Hamilton when they best had the chance, 230 years ago."
   There was a murmur in the audience, indicating some still thought Hamilton was a true patriot, through and through. Will continued to back up his position on the man, which was hardly unique of many conservative historians. 
   "Hamilton was the chief architect in transforming our Republic of enumerated powers into a strong central government seemingly without bounds-an insatiable machine cruising along however it wishes while the States either tag along for the ride or get crushed by the federal juggernaut.
   "We can start by examining Hamilton's early position-from the 1787 Constitutional Convention-where he outlined his preferred model of the Constitution the delegates were just beginning to draft.
   "Hamilton's first pillar for his preferred form of all-powerful government that he outlined on June 18th, 1787, lay in giving Congress the express power to pass all laws whatsoever-subject, as he put it, only to the negative hereafter mentioned.
   "In other words, Hamilton explicitly sought to give Congress the inherent discretion to do as members pleased, except as a constitution consisting only of express prohibitions would specifically prohibit.
   "Second, Hamilton wanted to extinguish or abolish the States themselves. To be fair, he later admitted the possibility of leaving the States intact, but directly subordinate to, and under the thumb of, the national government.
   "The third major plank in Hamilton's Grand Scheme was to give U.S. Senators and American Presidents their respective positions... for life (although he later conceded to a lesser goal, of keeping them during 'good behaviour').
   "Hamilton's preferred constitution would have thus been opposite of the one ultimately proposed by his fellow delegates and later ratified by the States, to offer unchallenged federal power.
   "Thankfully, Hamilton's fellow delegates ignored his recommendations-instead they proposed a limited-power Republic where delegates to Congress could only implement the powers expressly enumerated using necessary and proper means.
   "Almost immediately after ratification, however, Hamilton deviously set out to get indirectly over time what he did not get directly at the Convention.
   "Unfortunately, it took him almost no time at all to lay out his clever means to meet, incrementally, his first two objectives.
   "We have, in the 230 years since 1791 and Hamilton's national bank, witnessed the growth of essentially unlimited federal powers and the steady erosion of the reserved powers of the States. Despite his convention loss, long ago we nevertheless indirectly accepted and adopted Hamilton's first two pillars of omnipotent federal powers.
   "The only major thing missing from Hamilton's preferred government model is U.S. Senators and American Presidents serving long and indefinite terms."
   "And now, thanks to you," pointed out someone from the back, "Hamilton's last pillar appears to be right around the corner."
   "Yes, and no," Will said before explaining his response. "Let me remind you-all three planks were Hamilton's primary objectives to usher in his preferred system of totalitarian government.
   "All that I have done with my Political Year Strategy is merely offer up a slight variation of Hamilton's third rail to advance his cause to its illogical extreme, to show the underlying fallacy Hamilton indirectly used to implement his first two objectives so long ago.
   "We must finally refute and forever swear off the absurd idea that federal protectors who must swear an oath to support the Constitution could ever change it.
   "It is time to stop believing in fairy tales and make-believe, magical or mystical powers. It is time to expose the devious means federal servants have long used to become our political masters."
   There was a small measure of agreement, but the audience still wasn't sure what to make of their guest lecturer.
   Jim spoke up. "Just to let you know, Mr. Hartline, we're totally opposed to your Political Year Strategy and we will do everything within our considerable influence to fight its implementation."
   Will held up a hand. "Unfortunately, if you don't immediately see the fatal error of logic in my strategy, then I respectfully submit you'll be every bit as impotent to fight it as you have been in fighting the fatal errors in logic that allowed implementation of Hamilton's first two objectives, two centuries ago."
   Like an Army drill sergeant, Will struck the flames of passion, and it was working. Sometimes one just needed to get things red-hot and fiery to break free from the self-inflicted bondage people unknowingly allowed all around them. He continued.
   "Let me be perfectly clear; if you haven't understood how Hamilton was ever able to implement his first two rails despite his convention loss in the years, decades, and lifetimes that they've been studied, then you're not going to be able to stop the implementation of his third rail I've tweaked, that rests upon the same exact legal strategies, in the weeks or months before The Political Year Strategy could get implemented.
   "And I can guarantee you another thing-" Will continued, to the growing exasperations of the riled audience, "the federal servants who use these tactics so they may act as our political masters certainly won't ever tell you what they are doing, if they even understand it, themselves. Indeed, like the monkeys I figure them to be, perhaps they just mimic what was done yesterday, because they found it to work. After all, the immoral deviants who devised all this political nonsense died so long ago."
   Mike stepped in front of his boss whose face was reddening with every syllable Will spoke.
   "Hold on, Jim," he said. "I've had a few conversations now with this good man. There's more here than meets the eye. Trust me. I don't know what it is yet, but I know we must set everything aside-and I mean everything-and find out, as destabilizing as is his paper.
   "The author of the horrid paper is here, and he says he will tell us how to stop it, if we'll just listen. From what he has told me, and what I hear, I think he is working toward the goal of stopping it, albeit not as I had thought he would." 
   Jim took a step back, as his natural coloring slowly returned. 
   "Mr. Hartline," he began. "As the years go by, I get less and less patient with people who threaten our liberty. If Mike says I should hear you out, then-okay, I will. I trust him, even as I'll withhold my judgment on you."
   "Fair enough," Will said. "I don't have the right to ask for anything more at this point.
   "And, I might add, exasperation such as yours is precisely what led me to create this Political Year Strategy in the first place. I too grew impatient, but it was with patriots who wasted all their time chasing irrelevant symptoms, instead of concentrating upon the symptoms' common root."
   Mike thought it would go better than this; he didn't think seemingly-good-natured Will would be so confrontational before a group who saw him only as their sworn enemy.
   "You have to forgive my new friend," he told the audience. "What Will lacks tact-wise he more than makes up for in-well, the lack of it. He is passionate and direct from what I have witnessed firsthand, even as there remains this curious mystery about him.
   "But let me assure you-I'm still willing to bet when he is finished speaking, no one here will question where he truly stands. There seems to be no artifice in this man, beyond his Political Year Strategy. I suggest we all take a breath, compose ourselves, and let...the...man...speak."
   Will felt a certain irony.
   What are the odds, I would survive a kidnapping at gunpoint by reactionary blue-collar workers, but then get killed in a high-rise office by a bunch of critical thinkers in business suits?
   "What do you mean?" Jim asked. "No artifice in the man who says he wrote his strategy to bait a trap? I don't get it."
   "If you don't mind, Mike," Will said, "I would like to respond."
   "Sure, go ahead," Mike replied, who didn't know how to respond anyway, as he was relying upon his gut, which he didn't know how to explain anyway.
   "I think Mike responded from the general conversation from our first meeting, and some from earlier today, when he spoke with 'the real me,' so to speak. A few months ago, I decided to create a 'political me'-if you will-with a full measure of contradiction and deceit, to capture those who are full of contradiction, in their deceit.
   "Duplicity in the United States has grown exponentially over the centuries. We talk of freedom and independence now in early July, but live in utter fear of tyranny the remainder of the year.
   "This political dichotomy has got to stop.
   "Any artifice you see in me today is itself artificial and contrived, for a specific political purpose-to end political doublespeak, talking out of both sides of one's mouth. I am fighting fire with fire.
   "Perhaps my personal modification to Hamilton's tactics was an act of desperation, but the hour is late, and the stakes are steadily increasing. I have intentionally raised the stakes even higher, to force people on both sides of the politic aisle to listen to the political me, who before only ignored the real me.
   "My aim is to figuratively blow apart the omnipotent federal state, that has no valid place beyond the ten-miles-square authority for the federal District Seat or other exclusive legislation properties."
   Will hadn't spoke with anyone before quite like he had been speaking to the men and women of the American Jurisprudence Center, although he had gotten a taste of it, with The Men of Liberty. He was tiring of people who were at a total loss to explain what they faced, act like they yet had all the answers, when everything they 'knew' just dug them deeper into a pit of despair.
   What was especially tragic was that centuries later, those desiring limited government and individual liberty were yet no closer to figuring out what they needed to know, to win and throw off federal tyranny. And, the hour was fast approaching, from which there'd be no turning back.
   "Amen," someone finally said from the back.
   Everyone clapped, albeit reluctantly and only half-heartedly.
   "Well," Will said. "At least you are proving to be a little more accommodating than the group I met a few nights ago."
   Will briefly outlined the nightmare he'd endured from The Men of Liberty. When he finished, more than a few faces in the audience were draining of color.
   "W...w...we are no less intense in our feelings or lacking in love for this country, but I can assure you, there will be no violence," Jim Connery said, who was seldom at a loss for words, his figurative stock in trade.
   From the back, again-"Amen."
   "Thank you," Will said. "I'd rather confront a few angry faces than stand at the wrong end of a gun."
   There were one or two nervous chuckles, but for the most part, the room fell into an uneasy stillness. The story of Will's abduction seemed sufficient for the group to finally show Will a little grace, if for no other reason than to prove to Will-and themselves-they weren't worse than The Men of Liberty. Thankfully for Will, for the present group to prove their good intentions, they had to offer Will enough tolerance to give him a chance to make his case.
   "Go ahead," Jim said, even as he was starting to become intrigued, but unsure yet what to think of Mike's unusual guest. Like the leaders of The Men of Liberty holding their trial, the meeting Jim had allowed was also going nothing like he had expected, either.
   "And, I'm not talking about only stopping my proposed legislation; I aim to shut down every major piece of illegitimate legislation ever enacted, and every Supreme Court case ultimately reliant upon 1803 Marbury, 1819 McCulloch, and 1821 Cohens v. Virginia-which is the vast bulk of them, one way or another."
   "Now there's an impossibly tall order," Jim said, shocked anyone would ever make such a wild claim, especially before such a learned audience. After all, there was no way Jim or his staff would ever allow any man making such a preposterous claim off the hook if the man failed to support it. 
   "I could see you perhaps saying you could stop your own pending effort, since you are the author of it. But claiming you could end two centuries of escalating tyranny is absurd. No one has ever succeeded doing anything other than perhaps slowing down the ever-escalating nature of federal tyranny, and yet you say you can end it all. Utter nonsense."
   "No, what is absurd is repeating the nonsense that those who swear an oath to support the Constitution, signifying their absolute subservience to it, are nevertheless able to act superior to the Constitution without repercussion," Will answered. "The idea federal guardians may change the meaning of the Constitution's words to change their own powers for direct implementation throughout the Union is the utter nonsense one must finally stop believing.
   "Americans imprudently act as though they face an all-powerful wizard, who has truly magical powers. Instead, we only face fraud when we face nationwide powers beyond those enumerated, that go beyond the use of necessary and proper means.
   "Our job is to follow the lead of Toto-the small dog with a little brain who nevertheless trusted his faithful nose and search out the source of the stench. And, then, after finding it, bark like crazy to draw attention to the only thing that matters-how the rascals successfully do what should be impossible for them due to the Constitution.
   "It is time to expose the web of lies, the fraud, the corruption. The Framers and Ratifiers of the Constitution never gave us a form of government where those who exercised delegated powers were ever empowered to determine the extent of their powers, for direct exercise throughout the Union. No one who exercises delegated governing powers in these United States of America is ever empowered to change them, period.
   "Only the States, after all, may ratify amendments to change the U.S. Constitution."
   Jim, still highly suspect of Will's claims, fired away. "So, you're going to overturn two hundred years of invalid federal action with your little paper. What else-lead the first manned mission to Mars?"
   Uneasy laughter rippled through the otherwise quiet room. The audience still didn't believe Will could deliver as promised, but already Will seemed to offer enough simple truths they could neither refute, nor figure out how federal caretakers were ever able to set aside. Will waited momentarily, figuring laughter was better than the tense conversations of a moment ago.
   "No, I'll leave that topic to the scientists and astronauts, but since most of the people in the halls of Congress and the White House have their heads up in the clouds, I aim to bring them back to earth."
   This time Will got the cheers. He continued.
   "I know the claims I just made seem bold, if not absurd, but I've discovered something interesting along the way."
   "Which is?" Jim asked.
   "People like you at The American Jurisprudence Center- as dedicated as you are, and even The Men of Liberty, even though they are at the other end of the same spectrum-continue to waste precious time and resources trying to stamp out irrelevant symptoms while ignoring the root cause of the disease that is infecting our country and killing the host." 
   He saw several people jerk back, either in indignation, revulsion, or guilt at Will's lumping them together with The Men of Liberty, even if Will only pointed to the spectrum of people who ultimately sought the same goal-of limiting federal powers, to normal parameters, even as they used opposing means.
   "I encourage you to quit listening to our political opponents explain how they are our omnipotent political masters. After all, there is only One True God-and He had already made the only sacrifice necessary. God Himself has given us a great gift beyond salvation, liberty." 
   From the back. "Save the sermon. We get enough of those in church!"
   Heads nodded. Someone else shouted, "Hallelujah."
   Smiles broke out and the atmosphere relaxed, just a little.

Chapter 23
   Will held up his hands in mock surrender. "No, there's nothing of the evangelist here," he said. "I am a vessel-perhaps not as humble today as I should be and normally am-but a vessel, nonetheless. I merely encourage you to avoid false prophets who claim government omnipotence. Our political opponents are not wizards of unlimited power as they claim-they are but illusionists who tell us fairy tales about their never-ending power they seemingly exercise throughout the country without limitation. We must stop listening to them, open our eyes and ears, and finally do our own work."
   Will pointed with his eyes to a bottle of water on a nearby table and then glanced at Mike. Understanding the silent message, Mike brought over the water. Will opened it as he nodded in thanks and took a refreshing swig.
   "Let's begin with your pet peeves, so you can get what really bothers you about the federal government off your chest," Will said.
   "Intrusions into healthcare," one person shouted.
   "They won't leave our schools alone," another said. 
   Voices bounced from every wall.
   "The bloated federal budget," a third said, to the hoots and hollers of the audience.
   "Violations of the Tenth Amendment."
   "Out of curiosity, who here agrees federal custodians routinely violate the Tenth Amendment, doing things otherwise reserved to the States, individually?" Will asked.
   Half of the hands went up in the room, but only because no one happened to raise both their hands.
   Jim's voice cut through the air. "The Supreme Court ignoring the clear words of the Constitution to change its spirit."
   Almost at the same moment, the guy next to Amen Man shouted, "Unconstitutional federal actions."
   Will asked, "Another question, who else here thinks members of Congress and federal officials act unconstitutionally?"
   Every person in the audience raised at least one hand, with several people raising both.
   "Okay," Will said. "Those things are bad. But, none of them are The Problem. These things are only the visible symptoms of the underlying, invisible problem. 
   "We face but one political problem federally, which is how members of Congress and federal officials bypass or ignore their normal constitutional parameters with impunity. Everything else is but a symptom of a single cause-everything else is political theater."
   "But those things are bad," someone said.
   "Yes," Will said, "but let me ask you something. When you have a pain, say in your back, and take a pain killer, have you solved the problem?"
   "No." It was Amen Man.
   "Indeed," Will said. "Pain simply lets us know we have an underlying problem-the root cause-that we ignore at our peril. Symptoms are warning bells, alerting us to examine the matter in greater depth to find its true cause. Perhaps the cushion of the chair you sit in all day is broken down on one side and your back muscles and joints get overworked, causing fatigue and pain. Perhaps the answer is simply to replace the cushion or chair; perhaps it is more involved. Persisting or worsening symptoms simply tell us to keep looking until we find the source, so we can apply the appropriate cure, whatever it turns out to be.
   "Well, centuries-long political losses taking us farther and farther from the spirit of the Constitution every wretched day are the symptoms telling us we're not even on the right page yet, after hundreds of years of looking."
   There was a murmur of consent.
   "Let's now look at what I call The Constitution's Unknown Loophole. Many of you have devoted yourselves to studying the normal rules of the Constitution. Good job. You have built a firm foundation upon which one may build, to understand what we face. However, I am going to concentrate almost entirely on the highly-unusual exception to all the normal rules.
   "Therefore, today, we're largely going to ignore everything you have already learned, so we may now look at everything you've tragically overlooked.
   "Because, remember this-even the exception to the rule is one of the enumerated rules.
   "It is true the ultimate source of this unknown exception differs somewhat from the rest, even as it is rooted in the same.
   "But, this 'different sameness' doesn't mean we can ignore its unique characteristics for 230 years and be safe from its illicit use.
   "That deviants may exploit its unique features because we're not paying appropriate attention to the only thing that matters-how they succeed doing what should be wholly impossible for them-means that we must finally start paying appropriate attention, or fall to absolute tyranny fully realized.
   "By examining this unrealized exception, you may start piecing together the disparate pieces of the puzzle to explain in time the odd things that initially appear to contradict one another. For instance, members of Congress and federal officials swearing an oath to support the Constitution, but then falsely appearing to rule over it.
   "What gives? You ask. Well, I will tell you, if you will pay appropriate attention.
   "And I'll only use the strictest construction of the Constitution, and everything will make perfect sense, if you stick with it and listen to the whole explanation.
   "The only magic our opponents use is the use of smoke and mirrors, trap doors, hidden panels, and fine ropes or cables. Learn to ignore their clever sleights of hand and instead pay attention to see through what they do to deceive us.
   "There are two separate parts involved in this study. First is the unrealized or unknown exception itself and the second involves extending that exception far beyond its proper legal boundaries.
   "We can only get to the second part of my discussion after I explain the first part, so please, bear with me. We must investigate Part One and understand it before we start examining Part Two. We must learn the bypass mechanism itself before we look finally at extending it far and wide."
   Will could feel his heart rate quickening like an athlete in the throes of competition. He began to feel a rhythm. It took him a moment to realize that although the message was yet still intricate, his words flowed through him without his usual stammering or mind-numbing repetition of filler words, such as "you know," "anyhow," or "it's kinda like." Will said the briefest of prayers thanking God for providing greater clarity of his tongue once again.
   "Stop buying into ludicrous propaganda that asserts federal officials may change the meaning of words found in the Constitution for direct exercise throughout the Union.
   "Patriots have failed, because we have listened to such drivel without question, failing to critically examine the matter ourselves, because it was too hard for us to figure out.
   "We've stood at the feet of false prophets and believed them-never offering anything sufficient to refute their brazen lies, because we were too lazy to do the work necessary to understand what we faced and counter it accordingly.
   "We listen to the people who seek to enslave us, who give us their made-up explanations which have always been sheer, unadulterated poppycock. It is way past time to do our own work, independent of our political adversaries-stop listening to their shameless lies."
   From the back-again. "Their actions are unconstitutional."
   "My advice, sir," Will answered, "is never to assert that our opponents act unconstitutionally.
   "Claiming unconstitutional behavior tells your mind that you just gave a rational answer for an unjustifiable government action when you have explained nothing. If federal guardians may do unconstitutional things over and over again, then they must be our political masters, since we haven't held them accountable.
   "You assert their actions are unconstitutional, but those actions repeatedly pass the constitutional muster of the courts. Yes, the courts are obviously in bed with them, but, their working together does not yet give either party a pass for doing truly unallowable things-something nevertheless necessarily allows their disturbing actions.
   "And that 'something' is precisely what we must seek with all our hearts, all our souls, and all our strength-for it is what will finally make sense of two hundred years of utter political nonsense.
   "The first thing one must do is openly admit one does not understand how federal servants act as our political masters with impunity. There is no shame in admitting one doesn't know the answer to something so perplexing. The only embarrassment should come if one doesn't try and figure things out on one's own, but instead listens to our political adversaries explain their false rule and then repeat their nonsense to others, to compound the issue." 
   "Not sure I follow," Jim said, not yet admitting his own guilt, even to himself.
   "Members of Congress and federal officials swear an oath to support the Constitution," Will said. "This does not give them the power to reinterpret its words and phrases as they see fit, to anything new or different, for direct use, throughout the Union. They who exercise delegated federal powers don't ever get to change the rules they just swore to support. Signifying their subservience to the Constitution through their required oath absolutely prohibits them from changing any part of it, ever.
   "Instead, they may do as they please, only where and how the Constitution allows them. Because everywhere else, they only may do what is expressly permissible by the enumerated listing of allowable actions implemented using only necessary and proper means."
   "Yes, but the courts changed the meaning of 'necessary and proper' to mean 'convenient' so long ago," Jim said.
   "Your statement, Jim, is as foolish as it is absurd," Will answered. "Don't lend your good name, Jim, to their scandalous cause. Never repeat their lies as if they are the gospel truth, just because you don't know how they pulled off their spectacular political coup."
   Jim motioned for Will to continue, embarrassed for the truth he was just starting to see in Will's harsh accusation.
   "Let's get into the meat of things, so I may sooner counter false perspectives with truth fully revealed," Will said.
   "The U.S. Constitution was established according to the clear ratification process delineated in Article VII-nine of the thirteen States had to ratify the document for it to take effect, but only in the ratifying States.
   "In other words, no State could ever be forced against its will, to give up a portion of its own sovereign governing powers and hand these named powers over to Congress and the U.S. Government. Thus, eventually, each State of the Union voluntarily ratified the U.S. Constitution into effect within its borders.
   "Never forget the fundamental bottom line involving the U.S. Constitution. When the several States ratified the U.S. Constitution, they divided governing powers into enumerated federal powers and reserved State powers, throughout the Union of States.
   "Members of Congress and federal officials in the executive and judicial offices received the powers expressly delegated them, and the States kept the remainder of their governing powers, except those powers they expressly prohibited to themselves, which were either delegated to the federal government or kept by We The People.
   "Amendments are a little different, because ratification of formal amendments by three-fourths of the States bind all of the States, except on the question of State suffrage in the Senate, which would require consent from every particular State giving it up.
   "Any power the federal government has for direct exercise throughout the Union comes from the States, and those powers are listed in the written Constitution. And, it is written so everyone knows the powers allowed members of Congress and federal officials.
   "Once we have these two core principles down cold-ratification of the Constitution divided governing authority into enumerated federal powers and reserved State powers, and, two, only the States acting in concert together may ever change federal powers-then we can begin to move forward to understand how the federal government ever got out of control and began invading into the reserved powers of the States in the first place.
   "But again, never ever give up these most basic of facts of enumerated federal powers and only States being able to make changes. Never may any secondary point overrule these immutable principles-ever!"
   Will noticed movement-a lot of it. People were getting restless. 
   "You know," he said, "I once asked a wise preacher friend of mine how he timed his sermons. I never forgot his response. He said, 'I figure the mind can absorb what the rear end can endure.' So, what about taking a short break and reconvening in fifteen minutes?"
§§
   During the break, Will wandered over to Mike. 
   "I'm hoping I am making headway, but I can't be sure," Will said.
   "To tell you the truth," Mike said, "I think some of the staff are hoping for a phone call to invite them to have a root canal."
   "Sorry," Will said. "I'm trying to hit the highlights. This stuff can be weighty."
   "Hey, don't apologize," Mike said. "You are touching on the principles upon which this country was founded. No one here should be giving up, since this organization that pays their salaries was founded to support these principles. You are touching upon the precise values we were all individually hired to uphold."
   The crowd had thinned by several people. Mike gave Will a knowing look of displeasure and made some notes on a pad.
   Some people are going to get a little visit tomorrow, Will thought. 
   Jim called for attention. "Okay," he said, "we're back at it."
   Amen Man was at it again. "Could we maybe get a few beers and a hotdog?"
   Will jumped in before Jim had a chance to respond. "Tell you what, I will personally buy a hot dog for anyone staying to the end of my talk. However, I don't buy alcohol, so you're on your own for drinks."
   "No alcohol?" said another heckler. "I knew there was something wrong with you."
   Mike thought the comment went a little far-Will was his guest, after all-but before he could comment, Will started right in.
   "Everything substantial, from a house to a skyscraper to a championship basketball team to our government rests upon a solid foundation.
   "Our 'building'-the beloved Republic-is in various stages of collapse today because its foundation has been intentionally undermined by designing men and women who seek its downfall.
   "Their objective has always been to destroy society so they can finally get all political sides to agree that the U.S. Constitution isn't working. Only then, they figure, can they finally throw away the Constitution and start all over, or change the Constitution so fundamentally with so many amendments that it would shock the Framers' consciousness and undermine its true integrity.
   "That tyrants seek to destroy society so we finally give up the Constitution shows just how powerful the Constitution is. Or, at least how powerful it could be, if or when we ever come to grips with how federal caretakers bypass the Constitution's normal parameters, with impunity, and finally respond accordingly.
   "Because, the Constitution as it has always stood may yet end their devious system of constitutional bypass, permanently, especially if we add the smallest tweak. But first, we must understand what they've done, to know how to end their false rule.
   "In a nutshell, to prevent us from ever ending their highly successful methods to do as they please anywhere and everywhere, they want to eliminate the Constitution, so we could never enforce it, fully and properly.
   "While our foundation crumbles, we who want limited government of enumerated powers fritter away our time worrying about furnishings and window dressing, trying to make a crumbling structure look pretty, because we set our sights no higher.
   "If we want our structure to last, we must instead focus all of our attention on the undermining of our foundation, throwing everything else aside as irrelevant to our dire situation."
   There was a murmur of assent.
   "Mike, do you have a couple of pieces of paper, a thick black marker, and a thumbtack?" Will asked.
   "No, but I can run grab them," Mike answered, but a helpful woman in the back-Sadie-said she'd go. She was back in a flash.
   Will thanked Sadie. He took the first sheet of paper and drew a large circle upon the whole paper. At first, he simply held up the paper with both hands to display the circle to the audience.
    "Think of the division of government power under the U.S. Constitution like a pie," he said.
   "Pecan," someone said.
   "Pumpkin."
   "Blueberry!"
   Before things got out of hand, Will waved the crowd into submission. "I'm from the once-great State of Washington, so if this pie had a flavor, it would be apple. End of discussion.
   From the back-good naturedly-"So much for Democracy!"
   "Of course, we are a Democracy to the extent voting affects only named subjects, because we are first a Republic. We are not voting on the flavor of pie today because voting on pie flavors is nowhere enumerated for government to decide.
   "The bakers of pies unilaterally decide the flavor, due in part to the demand created by those who want to eat them. So, I would decide, if I meant this pie to be edible. But, I mean this pie to be a pie chart to represent a division-in this case-of allowable governing authority."
   "Not to put too fine a point on it, but notice how quickly we started focusing on secondary issues-such as concentrating on flavors of pie, instead of simply noting it wasn't a loaf of bread, a brick, or a board.
   "But, back to my pie chart. Graphing the constitutional division of governmental power created by ratification of the U.S. Constitution within a pie chart helps communicate basic principles of American government." He drew two lines radiating from the center to represent a small sliver of pie. 
   "If we want to speak only generally, we can divide this pie chart into halves, thirds, quarters. We could alternatively divide it into twelfths, such as hours on a clock. Or, if we wanted very fine division, we could divide it by sixtieths, as in the number of minutes in an hour.
   "With ratification of the U.S. Constitution by the individual States of the Union, the federally-allotted piece of government pie is represented by this small 11:00 o'clock wedge," Will said as he filled in the wedge from 11:00 to 12:00 and then pinned the paper on the bulletin board, "or, if you prefer, the last five minutes of the hour.
   "The rest of this whole pie," he said as he drew a curved line from 12:00, clockwise, all the way around to 11:00-the first 55 minutes of the hour on a clock-"represents all the governmental powers reserved to the States. Only the States get to set the time on the government clock, in the normal situation, regarding the distribution of all 60 minutes. If the federal allotment is to change from five to six or seven minutes, it is only the States which get to decide the matter.
   "But, as I said, this particular pie-which we are calling an apple pie for ease of differentiation-is the government pie representing the normal division of governing power throughout the whole Union.
   "This is what the entirety of the U.S. Constitution-except for one clause-explains, as the division of governmental powers, throughout some 97% of American lands, into enumerated federal powers and reserved State powers. 
   "This apple pie is the government division of pie most of you have studied much of your adult lives.
   "As I said earlier, though, we're not going to study this pie-this apple pie-because it discusses the normal situation, where government action has been divided into enumerated federal powers and reserved State powers," Will said as he ripped down the paper pie, wadded it up, and threw it away into the garbage can. "This is the start of the dirty little secret our opponents don't ever want you to figure out.
   "You have all studied the normal parameters of this apple pie, day in and day out, to try and explain what we face regarding excessive federal actions-but the apple pie cannot ever help you make sense of all the nonsense you view.
   "You give up, saying words no longer have meaning, because supposedly our political opponents have the magical power to grant themselves unlimited power, by giving the words found in the Constitution a new meaning, for direct exercise throughout the Union. These federal protectors claim they are so powerful that they may change the meaning of words the Constitution lists for normal federal powers, the same Constitution they must swear to support. As I said before, this is pure, unadulterated poppycock. Don't believe those lies ever again.
   "You may have even heard arrogant U.S. Senators or U.S. Representatives boast that the Constitution isn't relevant in their day-to-day actions. Well, whether they realized it or not, they were actually giving you an important clue. I'll try to explain now.
   "I just threw away the apple pie, so you would quit looking to the wrong pie, so we may finally confront the real issue and respond intelligently."
   With the fervor of a traveling evangelist, Will began to hammer home on his main points.
   "You may not realize it, but the U.S. Constitution also gives out another recipe, for another type of government pie!
   "This other pie is the pie chart for allowable government action in the District of Columbia-where members of Congress are expressly allowed exclusive legislation powers in all Cases whatsoever.
   "This other pie-a shoofly pie, in this case, with its filling of molasses, brown sugar, and water-is the pie representing the allowable form of government power in the District of Columbia, and other exclusive legislation lands used for forts, magazines, arsenals, dockyards and other needful buildings, that are scattered throughout the Union and used for special federal purposes.
   "But this other pie is so odd-wholly unlike the common apple pie-we must study its unique features and peculiar characteristics all by itself.
   "Part I of my talk is all about this unique shoofly pie, to learn its quirky nature, its odd texture, and its unique taste. All of government-gone-wild occurs under this exclusive legislation power, under this shoofly pie recipe.
   "Note I just spoke of exclusive legislation powers for the District Seat that members of Congress may exercise in all Cases whatsoever. These words come directly from Article I, Section 8, Clause 17 of the U.S. Constitution.
   "By these express words-found in the originally-ratified Constitution-we learn governmental powers in the District of Columbia are not divided into enumerated federal powers and reserved State powers, like government powers are divided for the remainder of the Union within the apple pie recipe.
   "Instead, in the District Seat-and in other exclusive legislation properties, used as forts, magazines, arsenals, dockyards and other needful buildings (perhaps some three percent of lands in the country)-all governmental powers are here united in Congress and the U.S. Government. And, no, I'm not here speaking of the federal 'public lands' otherwise found in western States, that reach to large swaths of federal lands that aren't exclusive legislation property.
   "The pie chart for this shoofly pie shows the combination of all governing powers in the District of Columbia-and other exclusive legislation lands-in Congress and the U.S. Government, without any governing power ever being exercised by any State of the Union."
   Now he had them. He took the other piece of paper and drew the same large circle, but this time without division. He pinned the paper with its circular pie on the bulletin board and then drew squiggly lines back and forth until he had darkened the whole circle.
   "This other pie-this shoofly pie-is what Alexander Hamilton wanted the federal government to be able to bake, everywhere, to fit his agenda for unlimited federal authority. Thankfully, the remainder of delegates said 'no'-they would only give out the recipe for 'apple' pie, only allowing the federal government to bake apple pie instead.
   "While Hamilton did not get this extensive power-his shoofly pie-throughout the whole Union as he explicitly sought, it is yet important to note however that he did get it for special places which aren't actually 'within' the Union of States, in its normal meaning.
   "Think of foreign embassies, and you'll have a better idea of what these special federal enclaves are like in the Union of States-small islands of exclusive federal power, surrounded by the figurative 'sea' of State-governed lands.
   "Now, for this exclusive legislation time clock, all 60 minutes are all set federally, and the States themselves have no ability to adjust this time clock, ever. Are you starting to see how this separate clock can be used to give members of Congress and federal officials unfathomable powers?
   "Let's look how these special federal areas are created. Clause 17 speaks of them being created 'by cession of particular States, and the acceptance of Congress.'
   "So, ratification of the whole U.S. Constitution allowed these special federal areas, but didn't create them. Remember, every State of the Union ratified the Constitution. And, at least three-fourths of the States ratified the 27 amendments we have today.
   "But here, we see that single States-particular States-ceded particular parcels of lands, within their boundaries, to Congress and the U.S. Government, giving up not only the parcels themselves, but also the power to govern those parcels, in any way, shape or form.
   "Ratification of the whole Constitution merely meant every State of the Union bought off on this exclusive legislation power and its transfer process, but it was cession by particular States, and the acceptance of Congress, that actually created them.
   "And, in these special lands, all governing powers are united in Congress, by express constitutional mandate, and by State cession.
   "There are a host of mind-blowing ramifications of this extensive power. I will cover but three of them now.
I. "The first of the necessary consequences of exclusive legislation power is District residents have no Legislative Representation in Congress, even though legislative representation is the fundamental building block of the Union.
"Only 'States' of the Union elect U.S. Senators and U.S. Representatives, by Article I, Sections 2 and 3 of the U.S. Constitution. Since the District is not a 'State,' but was created out of States, then District Seat residents have no legislation representation in Congress.
"And, since Article IV, Section 4 only guarantees 'States' of the Union a Republican Form of Representative Government, then the 'District' isn't guaranteed a Republican Form of Representative Government, either.
"The necessary implication for these areas having no legislative representation nor guarantee means there can be no crime nor foul if members of Congress delegate any of their exclusive legislation powers to executive officers or judicial officers!
"While the normal legislative powers for the whole Union enumerated in the Constitution cannot ever be redelegated to federal officers, the enumerated power of Congress to exercise exclusive legislation powers on exclusive legislation lands may be freely delegated, because legislative representation is never a requirement in and for the District Seat.
"Let's see a show of hands of people who have ever said members of Congress could never delegate any of their legislative powers to alphabet agency officials? Let's also see a show of hands who have ever asserted judges could never legislate from the bench?"
   Members of the audience slowly raised their hands, admitting they had claimed federal bureaucrats could never make regulations held as law and judges could never legislate from the bench.
"By asserting too much, this claim-too-far is wrong. Instead, the all-important qualifier must always be added, acknowledging exclusive legislation powers may be freely delegated to federal officers.
"Ignoring the most powerful of all constitutional clauses will never prove to be a wise move, especially when government servants continuously act as political masters, such as they are readily able to do, in the federal seat.
"While members of Congress cannot delegate their enumerated legislative powers for the whole Union-because those absolutely require legislative representation-there is no crime or foul if members of Congress delegate their exclusive legislation powers for exclusive legislation areas to federal officers of the executive or judicial branches, because D.C. never has any legislative representation requirements.
II. "The second mind-boggling implication involves the related fact that no State, State-like, or District Constitution exists in the District Seat, to guide and direct members of Congress in the exercise of their exclusive legislation powers in D.C., like a State Constitution otherwise guides and directs State legislatures, governors, and State courts.
"Imagine the power that a State government could exercise if no State Constitution existed to guide and direct State legislators. Well, this is precisely the condition for federal legislators, in and for the District Seat.
"In D.C., no State authority exists-so members of Congress must there take the State's place, by express constitutional directive.
"Since there is no District Constitution, it is up to members of Congress to make up all their own exclusive legislative rules, as they go along. And, since they may freely delegate their exclusive legislative powers to executive and judicial officers, they may shift ever-increasing amounts of exclusive legislation work over to federal officers, without crime or foul.
"And, not only is there no State, State-like or District Constitution therein applicable, but neither do the express prohibitions found in the U.S. Constitution against 'States' found in Article I, Section 10 apply to or in the District of Columbia, either, which again is not a 'State.'
"Federal servants are truly political masters in the District of Columbia. 
"Of course, once they get a taste of their virtually unlimited powers, they naturally want to exercise the same extent of awesome powers, everywhere, if they can get away with it. We'll get to this important point, as I said before, in Part II of my talk.
III. "And, the third major ramification involves the Tenth Amendment. Who again complained of Tenth Amendment violations in our earlier listing of pet peeves?"
   Most of the audience slowly raised their hands, indicating they had earlier agreed federal guardians regularly violated the Tenth Amendment.
"Okay, who here still maintains this position?"
   A few people cautiously held up their hand, but without conviction.
"Question. How can the Tenth Amendment apply in the District of Columbia, when the two particular States which ever had any governing authority within the two original parcels of land expressly ceded, gave up all of their respective abilities to govern those respective parcels, to Congress and the U.S. Government, in 1791?
"Remember, Clause 17 requires the particular State ceding property for the District Seat to cede all of its authority, so Congress could thereafter exercise exclusive legislation in all Cases whatsoever. Tell me, where are any reserved powers for the ceding States, in the District Seat, which the Tenth Amendment is yet supposed to reserve?"
   The faces in the audience went blank. Not one person had realized the Tenth Amendment never had authority in the District Seat, at least once the parcels of land were accepted by Congress for their express purpose. The express commands of the U.S. Constitution, after all, mandate members of Congress have "exclusive" legislation authority for the District Seat "in all Cases whatsoever."
"While ratification of the U.S. Constitution divided allowable governing authority throughout the Union into enumerated federal powers and reserved States powers, please realize that this doesn't preclude the States later giving the federal government additional powers by and under the Article V amendment process," Will said driving home his points.
"Well, neither does the Article VII ratification process and reservation of remaining State powers prevent a single State-a particular State-from later ceding all its remaining authority over particular parcels of land, for exclusive legislation purposes, under the Article I cession clause.
"Maryland ratified the U.S. Constitution in April of 1788, thereby reserving unto itself all powers beyond what it gave to Congress and the U.S. Government as evidenced by the written Constitution. But, ratification didn't prohibit the State from later ceding its entire ability to govern the specific parcel of land it gave to Congress and the U.S. Government for the District Seat, in December of 1791."
   The room fell quiet. One could have heard a mouse squeak if it had dared.
"Remember," Will continued, "the small sliver of apple pie represents the enumerated federal powers members may directly exercise throughout the Republic because all the States allowed those enumerated powers to be exercised throughout the country, as evidenced by the written Constitution.
"But, the shoofly pie represents the peculiar ability for federal servants to act as political masters in the District Seat, and decide what to do and when to do it, except as they are otherwise expressly limited or prohibited, because Clause 17 allows this extensive authority, and because particular States ceded their parcels of ground and their ability to govern therein.
"The U.S. Constitution only allows federal servants to act like political masters in and for exclusive legislation areas where they may dine like kings, partaking of the whole shoofly pie.
"Please do not underestimate the significance of these three parameters I just discussed, that help explain everything we face, beyond the normal parameters of the Constitution."
   No one commented for what seemed like an eternity as they tried to grasp the vast implications from Will's earth-shaking comments.
   Finally, as he tried to regain his footing, Jim managed to get out, "Two things. First, this office here is in the District of Columbia, so we are all aware that this place is different from where most of us live, in Maryland or Virginia. We know there isn't any State government in D.C., only Congress and the U.S. Government, as well as the city council and mayor, of Washington, D.C.
   "And, I can understand that the city council and the mayor aren't relevant to this discussion, because the Constitution vests all power for the District Seat, in Congress, so the buck always stops there.
   "We're not particularly interested in what happens in D.C., but at home and throughout the rest of the Union of States.
   "And, two-it still doesn't mean the Supreme Court hasn't redefined 'necessary and proper' to mean 'convenient' throughout the States, as far as I see."
   "Two things in return," Will said as he began to drive home his points. "Your first point directly leads us into Part Two of my talk. Remember, Part One just looked at how members of Congress and federal officials could ever bypass normal constitutional parameters, with impunity, and do as they please.
   "Well, I've just showed you their source of inherent federal power and it fits in within the strictest letter of the U.S. Constitution, yet explains their unlimited actions.
   "We tragically ignore the most powerful of all clauses because we don't think it could ever have any effect beyond the District Seat, federal forts and ports. Although it wasn't meant to be extended, ingenious rascals devised the clever means to extend this unique power, so they could create the lucrative means to reach their most alluring prize, of exercising unlimited powers everywhere.
   "We overlook Clause 17 as the source of inherent power everywhere exercised, by our ignorance. It makes perfect sense that the source of their inherent authority everywhere exercised lays within their enumerated and inherent authority over specific and unique tracts of exclusive federal lands ceded by States.
   "After we find our source of inherent discretion, then we must trace its source forwards, backwards, sideways, and up and down, to understand its false extension, beyond its proper legal boundaries, so we may finally end this ridiculous charade of fraudulent genies.
   "Remember the claim a short while ago, when a member of this learned audience said members of Congress and federal officers act 'unconstitutionally' and then everyone here agreed Congress could never do things reserved to the States, because of the Tenth Amendment?
   "Well, I just showed how Congress could do most anything, constitutionally, because one clause of the Constitution allows it and the Tenth Amendment does not and cannot apply.
   "This shows the folly of making bold claims of something being [facially] unconstitutional, unless the prohibition is found in the Bill of Rights, or one of the express limitations on the delegated powers, found in the Article I, Section 9 list of limitations on the Section 8 powers granted, which keeps named powers from going too far.
   "Before getting to Part Two of my talk, please realize this all-federal shoofly pie for the District Seat explains all of government-gone-wild, even what we see all around the Union, even where only apple pie is supposed to be made available for consumption.
   "Part Two of my talk will next look at how miscreants take an allowed power and deviously extend it beyond proper geographic constraints.
   "Regarding the second point of your last set of questions, Jim-you realize in D.C. there exists no State, State-like, or District Constitution to guide and direct members of Congress in the exercise of their exclusive legislation powers, which exclusive powers are not unlike the powers the States exercise, within their own borders, right?"
   "Yes, I remember, and no, I cannot find fault with your reasoning," Jim said.
   "Are words and phrases found in the U.S. Constitution ever found in various State Constitutions?" Will asked. "Or, asked another way, is there any type of copyright protection on those words and phrases found in the U.S. Constitution preventing other governing jurisdictions from using those same terms and phrases?"
   "'Yes' to your first question and 'no' to your second," Jim answered. "I know many terms found in the U.S. Constitution are also found in many of the State Constitutions throughout the Union. But, 'no,' there isn't any type of copyright on those terms, preventing their use elsewhere."
   "Must the same words found within different legal jurisdictions always have the same meaning?" Will asked, asking in another way.
   "Well, federal meanings of terms have universal meaning throughout the Union, if the Constitution gives federal custodians the power. In fact, that is kind of the purpose of the U.S. Constitution-to provide uniformity," Jim answered. "But, no, the meaning of a word found in the U.S. Constitution doesn't have to mean the same precise thing under a State Constitution, if it is a word fitting otherwise within the reserved powers of the States."
   "So, you admit there is no copyright protection preventing federal caretakers from taking some words and phrases found in the U.S. Constitution and use them differently elsewhere?" Will asked.
   "What exactly do you mean by 'elsewhere?'" Jim asked.
   "My real question is whether members of Congress, or the Court, in turn, could define 'necessary and proper' as 'convenient' for the District Seat?" Will said.
   "Oh my," Jim answered, immediately seeing the implications of Will's comment. "Is that all they have done? No wonder you speak of scoundrels who lie, cheat and steal. That is wickedly clever. And shockingly simple, even if things quickly get complicated afterwards.
   "I don't see how federal guardians couldn't do as you say-use the same words found in the U.S. Constitution, but give them a different meaning, where and when they make exclusive rules for the District Seat."
   "Thankfully, we may end this charade by full and open disclosure of their devious mechanism of constitutional bypass," Will said. "They merely take an allowed power of near-absolute authority and do as they please only where they are allowed. Then they try and extend their inherent power beyond proper geographic constraints. And, they succeed, if and when no one realizes what they are doing, to stop them properly.
   "We now finally find ourselves at the entry door to Part II of my talk, which we can begin next. But, this is probably a great place to call it a day, since it is getting late, and everyone here looks plenty tired."
   Jim spoke up, "Well, we've certainly covered enough for today. We'll meet in here tomorrow morning, at 8:30 AM, come rain or shine."
   Amen Man from the back shrieked. "Amen."
   Neither Jim nor Mike could say much to Will, other than, "We need time to process all this new information."
   Without waiting for another word from the front, the occupants of the room flooded out of the meeting hall. 
   
   

Chapter 24
   The crowd shrank considerably when the group reconvened the next morning-a thirty percent loss this time.
   "The true believers are dwindling," Mike said wistfully.
   "Well," Will began, "just know this battle is about quality, not quantity. We need to quit thinking we're a Democracy where numbers are everything. We are a Constitutional Republic where founding principles trump false actions, allowing a single individual to stand against the remainder. One person standing on truth may bring down a nationwide charade of two hundred years if he or she has an adequate political soapbox of sufficient reach to get people to realize what we truly face."
   Mike and Jim could tell Will was getting increasingly comfortable lecturing in front of a small group, for he didn't opt to wear his tricorn cap and he began without any small talk.
   "Part Two of this discussion centers on extending the exclusive legislation power allowed in the District Seat beyond its geographic borders," Will said, as he began his discussion of what Jim knew to be the heart of the matter, once the source of inherent power was found in the District of Columbia.
   "Clause 17 specifically limits the geographic constraints of the District Seat to no more than a ten miles square domain," Jim said. "Of course, it reaches to the 'like Authority' lands elsewhere used for 'Forts, Arsenals, Magazines, dock-Yards, and other needful Buildings.' But, beyond these special exclusive-legislation federal areas, by your own admission, governmental power is divided by the U.S. Constitution into enumerated federal powers and reserved State authority. Period."
   "Yes, Jim, but are you familiar with Article VI, Clause 2?" Will asked.
   "Yes, of course, I am, Will," Jim said. "We all are.  It's among our favorite clauses and we quote it repeatedly-only laws enacted by Congress in pursuance of the U.S. Constitution are constitutional. Article VI specifically says, 'This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in Pursuance thereof...shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby.'"
   "Precisely," Will said. "And I couldn't have quoted the pertinent parts of it better myself. Are you ready for me to rock your world, Jim?"
   "I'm all ears," Jim answered, unwilling to believe Will could succeed with his claim, especially by pointing to Article VI, one of Jim's favorite constitutional passages.
   "Let me ask you the simplest of questions then," Will stated. "Is the seventeenth clause of the eighth section of the first article of the U.S. Constitution, a *part* of 'This Constitution' for the United States of America?" 
   "Yes, of course it is," Jim answered. "As you just said, it is the seventeenth clause of the eighth section of the first article of the Constitution for the United States of America."
   "Well, then," Will began laying Jim out for the figurative kill, "by the strictest words of the strictest letter of the supreme Law of the Land that you just quoted, then even Clause 17-based congressional laws are part of the supreme Law of the Land that is capable of binding the States through their judges!"
   Jim's face went limp with a blank stare as he struggled to find his footing in the legal quicksand where he stood, aware any sudden movement only risked pulling him deeper into confusion and chaos.
   "What do you mean, strictest wording?" was all Jim could manage, before adding the oft-repeated phrase, "judges 	 legislate from the bench to change words found in the Constitution to alter their meaning-everyone knows it."
   "No, not everyone," Will said. "Not me, anyway. Judges do not act liberally-they may only extend the allowed powers for D.C. beyond District borders by strictly holding Clause 17 to be part of 'This Constitution' that Article VI pointedly declares to be the supreme Law of the Land that is capable of binding the States. At least when the States don't understand what is going on to defend properly their reserved powers, anyway.
   "Only the States' misunderstanding of this fundamental point allows the dastardly federal cusses to continue to get away with doing as they please, everywhere. Falsely-extended federal actions have the color of law, because of Clause 17 and Article VI, but only until we show exclusive legislation laws don't apply in all the normal instances affecting the States and the individuals found therein. 
   "Are you starting to see how members of Congress and federal officials can bypass normal constitutional parameters with impunity? It is purely by deception and fraud. This is why one person who may simplify this message and disseminate the truth may end the false rule of paper tyrants-because its false extension beyond allowable places is based entirely upon undiagnosed or misdiagnosed lies.
   "Congress may enact exclusive legislation laws under Clause 17 almost without restriction.  Marshall implies these exclusive congressional laws may bind the States, whenever Congress desires.
   "Thankfully, this assertion is wholly false, for Marshall merely implied but never stated that members of Congress have the inherent discretion always to bind the States with Clause 17 exclusive laws. It is true Congress may enact exclusive legislation laws 'in all Cases whatsoever,' but that is for actions confined within the District Seat and other exclusive legislation lands.
   "Whether those same actions necessarily bind the States is wholly dependent upon whether those actions conform to the remainder of members' delegated powers for the whole Union, at least when the States properly defend against the false extension of exclusive legislation laws beyond exclusive legislation lands.
   "The only real case where exclusive legislation binds the States even if the States fought correctly, would be if some criminal broke an exclusive legislation law within the District Seat and then fled into the States.
   "In that case, federal marshals could chase the alleged suspects throughout the Union of States without State interference and the feds would not need to extradite the caught suspects through cooperative State authority, to seek justice, but they could take him or her back on their own.
   "Federal caretakers only exploit the Constitution's highly unusual exception, because no one realizes what they are doing, to stop them properly. Do yourselves a favor and quit listening to our political opponents' claim of unrestricted power. Learn to think for yourself and question everything."
   Mike interrupted. "I'm starting to get what you are trying to tell us, but I just can't yet get my sea legs steady enough to stand on my own two feet. I'm also afraid I'm about to drown with so much information I've never examined before."
   There was wide agreement with the staff still in attendance. Will was losing his audience to mental exhaustion lingering from the days before rather than dreaded fanny fatigue. Will understood he had already lost the room and it was again time for a lengthy break.
   Will gave up the heavy discussion and offered, "Those who fight and run away live to fight another day." 
   This isn't retreat, he told himself. This is a regrouping after people rest their minds, before moving on.
   The room emptied as if someone had yelled, "Fire!"
   Will had a stern look on his face as the last person fled the room.
   "Tell you what," Jim said to Will and Mike after the others were leaving. "Maybe we should talk and decide how it is best to continue. Maybe we are pushing too hard."
   "I was hoping to provide a recap of some of the more important points and then have a question-and-answer period, where people could ask questions about matters that are blocking them from processing all of the new information they are learning," Will said, wistfully.
   Mike put a comforting hand on Will's shoulders. "Look at the bright side. By the time they all left today, no one still suggested throwing you out the window. I think they finally realize you are not the enemy. But, I don't think you can just keep cramming more information down their throats, indefinitely."
   "I can't seem to help myself," Will said, "After being ignored for so many decades, I may be trying to make up for lost time, once I finally had a captive audience.
   "I appreciate your optimism, though, Mike, if you can see something positive from this cleared room. I know I need to simplify my message, but to me I've already simplified it.
   "Indeed, try and figure out all of this, largely on one's own. Being spoon-fed the information in piece-meal fashion is so much easier than trying to figure it out, largely by oneself. I would have loved to have someone explain all this to me.
   "Of course, the complexity explains how Alexander Hamilton was ever able to pull off his spectacular Constitution-bypass-strategy in the first place-beginning with his bank of the United States, in 1791-and then how his followers were able to keep things quietly advancing all this time."
   Jim wiped his brow with a handkerchief, barely staying ahead the rest of his staff. If he had been keeping up a bit more, he might have objected to Will's comment, about the federal bank.
   After all, in February, 1791, Philadelphia was merely the acting capitol, not the permanent federal seat. It would be another ten months before Maryland and Virginia would even cede the land for D.C., let alone for Congress to accept the parcels.
   But, even if Jim had caught what falsely appeared to be an apparent discrepancy involving the 1791 bank, he wouldn't have yet been able to learn the reasoning Will would offer him to resolve it. No, one had to learn to walk, before one could run and running too quickly could simply lead to injury that much sooner.
   "Okay, Will," Jim said, "you've spent a lot of time on the problem, diagnosing it, but even the most studious patient eventually wants to hear about treatment and cure."
   Will got a stern look on his face, before offering, "Evidently, Jim, we are on wholly different wavelengths. You mentioned diagnosis, treatment, and cure, but from the perspective of a patient. I am not teaching you to become patients, but doctors.
   "I haven't spent any time on treatment yet because we first had to go through a great deal of anatomy, physiology, biochemistry, and specialized areas of study, before we ever got into diagnosis, let alone treatment, using your example. We've about finished with the basics of differential diagnosis, but there's a great deal more we could study, if we had time, before getting to treatment.
   "Student doctors never start with diagnosis, let alone treatment, until their later years in med school. We've only been at this a few days. A little patience and determination could go a long way, here.
   "Contrast medical students who delve deeply into the basics before learning the finer points, with law students, who never learn the Constitution as it was ratified. Instead, law students only study what the Constitution supposedly means after theoretically being modified by the U.S. Supreme Court.
   "Law students are reinforced at every step of their indoctrination process, to the idea of an ever-changing Constitution. Everything is intentionally left up for grabs, in law. They never learn the basics before getting into case studies. In essence, they jump immediately into case-by-precedent-setting-court-case, learning of omnipotent justices with their supposed ability to change the Constitution they must swear to support."
   "Okay, Will," Jim said. "I'm starting to see you have a totally different approach, and I can't argue with your assessment thus far. But, my staff is exhausted, and I'm not far behind them. I'd rather not go at it alone, so let's reconvene tomorrow morning, after we've all had a chance to rest our weary minds." 
   A thirty-something woman from the lecture approached Will.
   "Mr. Hartline," she said, "my name is Sadie. I have a question."
   "Certainly," Will said. If he had been wearing his hat, he would have doffed it to the nice lady who had earlier brought him art supplies. "No disrespect, Sadie, but you look exhausted."
   "No disrespect taken," she said, "but have you ever sat through one of your own lectures? I thought about your lecture all night, and didn't get any sleep. There's no way I can process more of the puzzle, until I can process what you've taught us already. I would love to learn more, but I can't, yet."
   "If you are lost, try to concentrate on the basics and then build from there at your own pace," Will said.
   "Approximately 98% of the U.S. Constitution covers the normal case, that allows only the exercise of the enumerated powers over a very big area.  Little Powers, Big Implementation Area.
   "However, the 1% of the Constitution for the District Seat is fully of the opposite persuasion: Big Powers, Little Implementation Area.
   "And, the remaining 1% of the Constitution not yet discussed-Article VI, Clause 2-deals with both the 98% and the 1%. However, in the latter case, scoundrels twist Article VI to help implement the first-discussed 1%, over a Big Implementation Area.
   "Federal charlatans do their best, to work their Big Powers over a Big Implementation Area, but nowhere is this ever allowed by the U.S. Constitution, directly. Thus, the necessity of resorting to devious and underhanded diversionary tactics, to muddle everything up, to keep everyone from figuring out what the crooks are doing.
   "The two fundamental truths of the U.S. Constitution are first, that the 98% of the Constitution for the normal case-that allows the direct exercise of the delegated federal powers throughout the Union-is that members of Congress and federal officials may only exercise Little Powers in a Big Area.
   "And, in the second case, regarding the 1% of the Constitution for the District Seat, is that the Constitution allows members of Congress and federal officials Big Powers in a Little Area.
   "The Biggest Lie is that federal servants may exercise Big Powers in a Big Area, which is necessarily false.
   "The U.S. Constitution never, ever allows Big Powers in a Big Area, anywhere.
"Hence, the purposeful confusion to trick us.
   "Thus, the purpose of what I call their Grandest Lie asserts, which that those who swear an oath to support the Constitution may nevertheless rule over and overrule it. In other words, The Grandest Lie rests upon the premise that the required oath isn't simultaneously binding.
   "But, ask yourself this simple question-if the oath is meaningless, then why don't they ever avoid taking it?
   "And then ask yourself another simple question. While you have undoubtedly heard all sorts of wild claims of federal omnipotence-of government servants ignoring their oaths that otherwise bind them to their listed powers-have you ever heard of any of them refusing to take an oath, but then exercising federal powers, without issue or ill effect?
   "That the first is common but the second unprecedented points to the huge gulf between the two. Truth stands ready to blow apart inconsistencies such as this, and if we pursue the former diligently, we may soon explain the latter.
   "If anyone who exercises delegated federal powers claims that their oath isn't binding, then challenge them to live according to their stated beliefs. Tell them to refuse to live by impotent double standards and thus not take an unbinding oath. Tell them to act consistently in action as they assert in principle, and you'll soon witness the inherent duplicity of an unstated lie, in overt action.
   "Double standards and odd contradictions-where every-day federal actions appear to violate fundamental principles of American government, are the epitome of lies ready to reveal themselves to those who pay sufficient attention.
   "An untaken oath will readily prove that oaths are required, and if required, then they are, necessarily, binding. Except as the Constitution itself lets government caretakers off the hook, where it allows them to act like masters.
   "Federal servants may only act like masters where the U.S. Constitution allows them, and that is only for the District Seat, and exclusive legislation area forts, magazines, arsenals, dockyards and other needful buildings."
   "See," Sadie said. "Your words sound so enticing, and given what I've understood thus far of what you have said, I realize you are looking at things in a totally new light-a very promising light, I might add.
   "But, it seems to me as if you're asking us to learn a whole new language-perhaps a dead language-almost overnight. This would likely take months or years to learn, just like it would take to learn a new language. I just can't process all the information so quickly.
   "I wanted to let you know I can't come back, at least yet. But I'm hoping to learn more, but later." 
   "I'm sorry I haven't been able to simplify it more for you-but that's on me, not you," Will said. "You should not expect to learn in a few days what it took me a lifetime to figure out. You said you had a question-was it if I had ever attended one of my own lectures?"
   "No. My question was about a Leap Year," she said. "Did the Framers even know about Leap Years back then? Had it even come into existence yet?" 
   "Good question," Will said. "I covered it in my Political Year Strategy, but I can answer you more fully."
   Mike interrupted. "Will, my friend-Sadie is already overwhelmed. Please don't answer her 'more fully;' just a simple 'yes' or 'no' may suffice."
   Mike was right, but Will did not give a short answer. Once he heard and understood the question, it was in his bones to pursue the answer until it was out of him. Heaven help those who sincerely asked him a question, because they would invariably be in for an earful.
   "Yes," Will said. "The Founders were keenly aware of Leap Years, for no other reason than they lived through the conversion process out from underneath the Julian Calendar which had too many Leap Years, over to the Gregorian Calendar, in 1751 and 1752, that sought to correct the over-abundance of Leap Years.
   "Leap Years had been implemented in the Old-Style Calendar of Julius Caesar in 46 B.C., with its Leap Year every fourth year. But, having Leap Years every fourth year proved to be too much, especially over the long haul. The Julian Calendar was off by nearly eleven minutes every year."
   Will hesitated, because he noticed Sadie lost in thought.
   "That's about a day about every 128 years," Sadie said.
   A startled surprised expression appeared on Will's face.
   Mike laughed. "Sadie's our resident math genius," he said. "You can rest assured her calculations are estimated accurately."
   "Wow-impressive," Will said as he tried to perform even the first equation necessary to solve it, but gave up, so he could get back to Sadie's question before she qualified for Social Security.
   "By the time Great Britain reoriented her calendar year to match the tropical year, there were 11 too many days on the calendar, from having too many Leap Years, too often. The calendar needs to coincide with the seasons. To be of any value, standards must be accurate and appropriately precise.
   "The conversion process is quite interesting.
   "The Old-Style Calendar began a new year on March 25th, not January 1st, as we're used to under the New-Style Calendar.
   "In 525 A.D., Dionysius Exiguus had created our Anno Domini dating system-numbering our years 'in the Year of the Lord,' as measured from Christ's conception.
   "Dionysius the Humble, as he was also called, used March 25th as the start the new year, following the lead of early Roman historian Sextus Julius Africanus, who two centuries earlier had calculated Christ's conception to be March 25 (giving us Jesus' birth, calculated nine months later, to be December 25th).
   "Christian antiquity measures the passage of time based upon the conception of Christ, in celebration of the archangel Gabriel's announcement to Mary, as recorded in Luke.
   "The spring equinox was widely held by ancient Christians not only to reflect God's act of creation of the world and of man, but also the start of Christ's redemption, beginning on the day of His death on the cross. Thus, the early Christian significance of keeping Easter tied to the spring equinox, even as Easter had been drifting ever farther because of too many Leap Years.
   "The New-Style Calendar-also called the Gregorian Calendar-was implemented in the Papal States in 1582 by Pope Gregory XIII. Great Britain and her colonies designated their calendar change-over process in 1750. It was a two-part event, starting in 1751. The year 1751, which began on March 25th, ended on December 31, only 282 days later.
   "To complete the change-over in 1752, eleven days built up from too many Leap Years over so many centuries simply evaporated, to reorient the calendar. People went to bed in British lands on Wednesday, September 2, 1752, and awakened the next day to greet Thursday, September 14, 1752.
   "The change in calendars in 1752 is why you see the birthday of Thomas Jefferson sometimes as April 2, 1743, Old Style, but also April 13, 1743, New Style, depending if the reference was looking forward in time or backward.
   "This is the same for any other Englishmen of the era, of course, but I mention Thomas Jefferson not only because of his influence, but also because his father was born on February 29, 1708, New Style. While anyone who lived through the transition period would have known about Leap Years, Thomas Jefferson would have especially known of them.
   "Incidentally, Peter Jefferson's birth date is often referenced as February 29, 1708, but sometimes one will see it briefly written as February 29, 1707/8, to reflect that the new year didn't actually then start until March 25."
   Mike looked at Sadie and then at Will, saying with his mind but not his mouth, You didn't really need to dump all of your knowledge on a given topic all at one time, even if the background information is interesting.
   Will looked down, knowing his guilt, even without hearing the words.
   It had always been important for him to be thorough and precise, which was how he ever figured out how rascals were able to extend the exclusive legislation powers for the District Seat beyond District borders in the first place.
   But, the same set of skills and mindset used to unlock the mysteries for one man might not necessarily be the same as those required to disseminate the information far and wide to others.
   And, neither did it mean a solitary adventurer who could make discoveries was the same person who could competently guide the group who later wanted to make a casual trip.
   That God gave one man or woman a certain set of skills, did not necessarily mean He expected the same individual to perform a related job requiring an opposing skill set.
    It was beyond Will to do anything beyond what he did. For better or worse, he was who he was, wherever he was. It was against his nature to do anything part way. He was an "all or nothing" kind of guy, a light switch without a dimmer control.
   The wiring of his switch was made to cast the greatest intensity of light available on any given topic, to illuminate the absolute darkness shrouding his specialized work into his opponent's intense secrecy, incredible deviousness, and spectacular success.
   The light for most any other purpose tended to burn too bright as if it were confined to too small of purpose.
   Will was finding the traits that helped him reach his present understanding weren't overly conducive to disseminating his knowledge to others.
   Following an afternoon walk through the city to ponder his lackluster teaching ability, he headed back to his D.C. residence. As he walked up the stairs, his mind paid momentary attention to his gut, and he determined he would whip up a sandwich. At the landing, however, his mind shifted gears quickly, when he saw an arrow driven into his apartment door.
   
   
Chapter 25
   Senate Majority Leader Andrew Carrier glared at his aide.
   "Do you really think I care?" he asked. "What sort of pie-in-the-sky, unicorn and rainbow operation do you think I'm running here?"
   The aide looked flush. "All I asked was how you thought this Political Year Strategy paper might go over with your constituents, especially those who support congressional term limits. You've made a lot of public statements in favor of limits, you know."
   "I'm all for 'em," Carrier said, "as long as they are someone else's term."
   The aide faked a laugh. "Very good, sir." 
   "If you-or they-don't realize it, congressional term limits will soon be rather moot, at least for the Senate with 24-calendar-year terms on the horizon. Once we pass The Political Year Strategy, I can serve my 2020 term, until 2044! I won't want another term."
   No way you live that long, the aide thought. But he said, "Wonderful, sir." He hesitated.
   "What is it?" Carrier asked, perturbed his aide evidently wanted to ask another question or make another comment.
   "You think you can get away with this, sir?"
   "You make it sound like we're going to do something illegal. Go ahead, speak your mind-no ramifications."
   Despite reassurances, the aide felt uneasy. Powerful folks in D.C. did not like to be questioned about their motives or especially their integrity, even as both tended to be rather fluid.
   "Well, maybe not illegal, sir, but unethical, perhaps. I mean, you've always touted yourself as a constitutional advocate."
   "Greatest single written document in the world," Carrier said. "Of course, next to the Bible. But in terms of political impact, nothing comes close to the Constitution."
   Well, there's also the Declaration of Independence, the foundation upon which the Republic and the Constitution rest, but the aide broke his train of thought. "So, you think this is all on the up and up?"
   "Absolutely not," Carrier said with a laugh. "It's the most unadulterated power grab I've ever seen-and totally brilliant. Wish I could take credit for the idea myself. I just know now is the time to implement it."
   "Why, sir?"
   "Because right now, we're on top-we have the majority. We must seize the opportunity while we still have the momentum to see it through. If we don't move forward with it, the Unionists certainly will whenever the political winds blow back in their direction. We must make hay while the sun still shines on us, so we may lock in our reign while we still can."
   Unethical and cynical-the perfect combination, the aide thought. I might want to consider something with a higher professional code-like selling used cars.
    "Not sure what's sticking in your craw, son. The Supreme Court has been redefining words found in the Constitution from day one. No one ever questions it anymore, at least anyone who matters.
   "Just watch, there may be a few of our colleagues who protest this in public, but they'll conveniently be out of town when it comes up for a vote. But they will be happy as pigs in slop when it passes. Once it's the new standard, all this term limit stuff will fade away like withered leaves in the winter wind."
   "Sir, what about your long-term dream of the Presidency?" the aide asked, almost afraid to bring up the subject.
   "A bird in the hand, my fine boy-a bird in the hand," the Majority Leader said even as he left out the remainder of the saying.
   If the Majority Leader had been a little more confident about winning the presidency, he might have had a different perspective. But, like he inferred, his present position was worth "two in the bush," especially if or when he could enjoy a long and assured reign, without any risk of an election loss.
   Up to this point, John Davidson, Chief In-House Counsel for the Traditionalist National Party, had been quiet. He decided to speak his mind.
   "Don't get overconfident, Andrew," John said, referring to the Majority Leader's presumption that Congress could enact The Political Year Strategy without question. "History tells us not to ignore the opposition. They may retreat for a season, but they always come back."
   "Perhaps, but the season will soon be very long-twenty-four years from now, for me. I can pretty much tell you in 24 years, I absolutely will not care," Carrier said. "It will be someone else's problem. Like young Barwell here." He pointed to the aide.
   Maybe something where I wear a paper hat and sell milkshakes.
   Davidson did not let up. "Look at Great Britain, for instance. She was a preeminent world power until a bunch of backwater hillbillies sent her mighty soldiers sailing back over the Atlantic with their tails between their legs. We don't want to inflame people into enacting the provisions under Article V."
   Barwell wanted to leave but now was curious. "Please say more..."
   Davidson beamed. He loved playing the expert. "Under Article V of the Constitution, States can convene a Convention for proposing amendments even absent Congressional agreement. With 50 States in the Union, it takes thirty-four to call a convention for proposing amendments-thirty-eight later to ratify any amendments the first convention proposes. Last thing we need is a bunch of State Houses rallying around some convention effort."
   Carrier's laugh was derisive. "Those Framers seem to have thought of darn near everything. But, I'm not worried about the States," he said. "We haven't had a convention since 1787. And, there's also a reason there have only been twenty-seven successful amendments." He locked eyes with John. "We neutered the States so long ago-are you opposed to this, Davidson?"
   "No," the lawyer said, "just want to be judicious."
   "Okay then," Carrier said. "Let's focus on political tactics."
   John nodded.
   "There is no question from a constitutional perspective Congress has the discretion to designate the time and manner of holding elections for Senators and Representatives?" Carrier asked, indirectly.
   "None."
   "And, also, the enumerated power for members to pick the time for choosing both electors and the day they shall give their votes."
   "Correct."
   "This means no one other than the States acting in concert can change or stop the current powers of Congress."
   "Right."
   "Then we are golden," Carrier said.
   "How do you figure?
   "You can't get thirty-eight State Houses to agree on the time."
§§
   A few miles away from the American Jurisprudence Center, Senate Minority Leader Fitzhugh Compton was fifteen minutes into a meeting.
   "It looks like you just thought of something," the Minority Leader said. He was addressing a mid-forties buzzsaw named Daniella DeSoto. She was tough, ruthless, and fiercely loyal to the Leader who brought her to the Unionist party after plucking her away from the Traditionalists, who were more interested in showcasing her ethnicity as their trophy to prove their inclusiveness than with her mind. 
   "I saw your eyes light up when I said day," Compton said.
   "They probably did," Daniella said. "You said day, as if day and date are interchangeable. Are they? Has anyone checked it out yet?"
   "Very good, Daniella," Compton said. "Boys and girls, someone here is paying attention. Everyone knows the devil of this is in the details and right now we need to know all those details, whether we decide to push for or against this Political Year Strategy. Myles, do you want to respond?"
    Minority Leader aide-de-camp Myles Smythe jumped right in. 
   "As you may know, Congress designated Election Day way back in 1845, as the Tuesday following the first Monday in November on election years. Of course, The Political Year Strategy specifies not a day, but date-always February 29th. Will it be a problem, for Congress, to pick a date?
   "We think not and we checked.
   "Article II, Section 1 of the U.S. Constitution uses the language of day and time regarding the selection of President and Vice President (he used air quotes, a habit Compton detested, but he decided not to interrupt).
   "The day for Electors to give their votes, which must be the same throughout the country, is in December. But we really don't care about the day when Presidential Electors meet to cast their votes-it's irrelevant for our purposes here. The day the Electors meet will obviously come after any general election." 
   Compton nodded and moved his finger in a circular motion-the familiar "move it along" signal.
   "The Constitution leaves the selection of Electors to each individual State. States don't even have to have an election to determine their Presidential Electors. The State legislatures can forgo public elections for the President and Vice President like they did so long ago and choose some other process for determining their allotment of Electors for President and Vice President.
   "But, the Constitution does specify elections for U.S. Representatives and for U.S. Senators, with the election becoming directly pertinent for voters, for the Senate, after the Seventeenth Amendment of 1913.
   "The significant clause for federal elections for members of Congress is in Article I, where it says, if you'll give me a minute while I look in my pocket Constitution-oh, here it is, in Section 4:
The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof; but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Regulations, except as to the Places of chusing Senators.
   "So, nothing there about the day or date, where it matters, only time?" Compton asked.
   "Correct," Smythe answered. "You asked me for my evaluation and expertise. I don't see any constitutional issue with February 29th as to the election date. But, selling elongated terms will undoubtedly bring on a firestorm of citizen protest. Talk show hosts, even from both sides of the aisle, imply it's political Armageddon."
   "Any rebuke to their arguments?"
   "Well, we artificially manipulate time with Daylight Saving Time. Why not manipulate the definition of a 'Year,' which is but a measure of time? You need to know this is fast picking up steam. Lots of sentiment on both sides."
   "Meaning?" Compton asked. 
   The Senate Minority Leader much preferred to stay indoors, eat lunches with powerbrokers, and drive via convoy to Burning Tree Golf Club. He left knowing what was happening on the street and spending time with constituents to his minions.
   "You haven't seen the logo then," Daniella said. It was not a question. She knew Compton was clueless.
   "Tell me."
   "It's a black heart with an arrow through it-a 'heart line.' You know-Will Hartline-the author. Obviously not everyone is so taken with our guy from The Apple State."
   Compton scrutinized a hangnail. "You mean The Evergreen State?" he asked.
   If you paid as much attention to the American people as you do to your manicure, we'd all be better off, Daniella thought, shocked Compton knew anything about The Other Washington.
   "Well, sir, as you know, there are always extremists."
   "Yes."
   "The logo is not a tribute-looks more like a threat to me. As I said, it's all black-the heart is desiccated, but there are drops of bright red blood oozing from the heart."
   "Doesn't sound like those are fans," Compton said.
   You are the master of the obvious, Daniella thought. 
   "No, sir," she said.
   "Okay," Compton said. "I have no idea what will come of all this, but assuming what you tell me is accurate, someone needs to tell Mr. Hartline to watch his back. If we care, that is, which I'm not sure we do, yet. Of course, I'm not sure yet we don't, either."
   



Chapter 26
   The next day, Will arrived at the Conference Room at 8:15 AM. Jim and Mike entered shortly thereafter. The men had hoped most of the staff would be willing to give the lecture another try after nearly a full day of rest, but no one else came into the Conference Room by 8:35, five minutes after Will was scheduled to begin.
   The office was also quite vacant, with more people absent that day than the worst day of the previous flu season.
   They sat in the Conference Room until 8:40. No one came through the door. Finally, Jim said, without expecting any rebuttal, "Why don't we take this into my office?"
   As the three men sat down in Jim's spacious office and before they got into discussion, Will reached into his pocket, and carefully grabbed the wrapped arrow tip and placed it on a stack of papers on Jim's elegant desk and unwrapped it. "Either of you happen to know if this kind of thing is out of the ordinary around here?"
   Jim picked it up. "Been a while since I went bow hunting but looks like a Magnus Black Hornet. Nice broadhead-not cheap. The guy who owned it must be missing it-it is expensive. Where'd you find it?"
   "Stuck in my front door last night when I got home."
   Jim and Mike exchanged anxious glances. 
   "In your door-not some random place?"
   "Yes, in my door," Will said. "Someone had to wait to get into the building with its security."
   Jim nodded at Mike. "So, you've seen the logo. It's popping up everywhere."
   Will shook his head. "What logo?"
   Mike flipped through his phone and then showed Will a picture of the heart-line symbol.
   "It's all over town," Mike said.
   "What does the symbol have to do with me?" Will asked before realizing. "So, you're saying it's a take on my last name. There's a line-the arrow-and a heart-Hartline. I get it. And the symbolism of the blood isn't lost on me. I guess I'm finally getting someone's attention."
   "It's not a tribute, Will," Jim said. "It's a threat."
   Will looked over, a wry smile on his face. "Like they say, I was born at night, but not last night. Once you told me the logo is about me, I understand its intended message."
   "And, there's the elephant in the room, or I should say, missing from this room," Mike said. "I was a little afraid this might happen. At the end of yesterday's meeting, a number of people told me they couldn't sit through another session so soon."
   "How many?"
   Mike grimaced. "All of them, apparently."
   An awkward silence settled across the room. Will looked around. The furnishings were opulent, and the walls displayed pictures of Jim shaking hands with every prominent conservative Will could remember-in addition to sports stars and a few entertainers.
   "Taxpayers aren't paying for this, are we?" Will asked, already knowing the answer.
   "Absolutely not," Jim said. "I prefer something a little less gaudy, but our main benefactors insist one looks the part needed to get anywhere in this town. I'll admit, the photographs are quite helpful for obtaining donations, showing we rub elbows with those in power. But (he pointed to the pictures), unlike some folks in D.C., every single one of those shots is genuine-not a photoshopped one in the bunch. Nor have I ever had to donate money to get the photo."
   Will's face must have registered considerable shock because both Jim and Mike smiled. 
   "You mean, folks fake the pictures, or effectively buy them?" Will asked. "I guess after thinking about it, for even a moment, I'm not surprised big donors typically get all the best photo shots."
   "They seem impressed," Jim answered. "You know, if they see my picture with President Reagan when I was in high school, they get all jazzed up about shaking the hand that shook hands with The Gipper when Reagan played the doomed Notre Dame football star, George Gipp, in the 1940 film, Knute Rockne All American."
   "My first thought seeing your photographs is you seem awfully friendly with a whole lot of questionable characters," Will said, without thinking about how his comment might go over with the other men in the room. He added, "Perhaps you should be more careful who you hang out with in the future."
   Mike looked at Will, surprised he just said what he did, and then looked at Jim.
   Jim looked at Will, and then at Mike, who had a shocked expression on his face. Jim roared out laughing. "Well, at this point, I guess I'm not surprised you'd look at those pictures and come to a different conclusion from every other person who has ever been in this office. Or at least different from anyone who was willing to express an opposing conclusion out loud."
   "A lot of people go for all this in these parts," Mike said trying to steer the conversation back to constructive issues. "Let's get down to business."
   "Before we try and figure out how to get my staff to come back into the conference room to listen to you, willingly..." Jim said as he reached for his lower drawer before continuing, "let me ask you, Will, do you carry?" 
   "Well, I don't have a porter," Will said, "so, you could say I tote my own burdens." 
   Jim admonished Will lightly. "Don't be obtuse. You know what I mean."
   "Do I carry a gun?" Will asked. "Or have a permit to carry a concealed weapon? No, not in this Washington-or the other. Not really interested in asking permission from the State for what I view as my unalienable right to self-defense."
   "Here," Jim said jumping to his immediate concern, which wasn't about concealed carry permits.
   He handed Will a black rectangular object slightly slimmer than a deck of playing cards. 
   "Slip this in your pocket. Just don't try to carry it through a metal detector."
   "What is it?" Will asked.
   "It's a Trailblazer LifeCard .22LR Pocket Pistol. It's like the kids' Transformer toys or... ah...a ballistic version of a butterfly knife. See?"
   He unfolded the metal "credit card" and a small, hand-sized pistol appeared.
   "Single shot but stores three more rounds in the grip. To reload, you tip the barrel, load, then manually cock the hammer, kind of like a classic side by side shotgun." He reached out to give it to Will. "Don't worry-it can't fire when it's closed up, plus the safety is on."
   Will examined the unique weapon still in Jim's hand, but shook his head 'no.'
   "Thanks, but I'm good. I won't likely remain on earth one second longer than The Good Lord desires."
   Mike eyes bulged. "Someone's after you, Will," he said. "The arrow-"
   It suddenly hit Will that he had perhaps too long operated under the presumption he always had tomorrow to continue his important work.
   What if he didn't?
   No one had an indefinite amount of time, after all. The room became hushed. Jim and Mike saw Will in deep contemplation, and gave him a few moments, without pressing anything.
   "I've come to a decision," Will said as a calm came over his face, and the stress lines on his brow began to subside.
   Concerned by the ominous words, Mike and Jim sat still.
   "Okay," Mike said signifying they were ready to hear Will's statement.
   Will relaxed his previously clutched hands. His internal struggle had subsided. "Jim, I know you said we need to figure out how to get your staff back in here, so I may teach them how to proceed, but I'm done with that," he said. "It's up to you two, now, to teach them."
§§
   Titus was restless and agitated. He could not come to grips with how The Men of Liberty had "Let Hartline go."
   Titus pounded the steering wheel of his F-250 pickup causing it to veer into the next lane. Tires screeched, horns blew, more than a few fingers poked out of windows but Titus didn't notice or care. He was consumed with rage.
   Fueling his incendiary mood was the last meeting he'd had with the Governing Council of The Men of Liberty. Judge Al and some of the others had grown increasingly concerned over the past week as Titus continued to fuss and fume, worried he'd do something bad on his own. They'd summoned Titus to a meeting.
   "Titus," Judge Al had said, "this business with Will Hartline is over. The tribunal issued a ruling, and the matter is settled."
   "Traitors need to be punished," Titus said.
   "I know you're upset," Judge Al said, "but Hartline demonstrated an understanding of the Constitution far deeper than anything we have ever heard. And, he has agreed to come back on his own, to give us another day-long seminar, in two weeks. He is using his Political Year Strategy to bring the tyrants in D.C. to their knees. He's on our side. He's leading the way forward, without violence."
   "We need to get rid of the Unionists, but Hartline is even worse," Titus said. "The Traditionists will do the right thing."
   There was a murmur of general agreement from the periphery. Judge Al, no longer wanting to jump too quickly to conclusions, scratched at his chin, a sure sign he was thinking things over.
   "I'm not so sure, Titus," he said. "The longer Hartline talked, the more I began to understand we might even be backing the wrong horse."
   "You think the Unionists are right?" Titus's voice trembled in rage and confusion.
   "Absolutely not, Titus. I didn't say that and you know it," Judge Al said. "No, what I meant was, I think we should be focusing less on party and more on predicament.
   "We've gotten into this mess not so much because of political leaning left or right, but forward, always towards greater government power. The horse we need to support is the United States Constitution, not the Traditionalist Party or the Unionist Party. We must learn to enforce the Constitution and Will Hartline can and will show us the way."
   Titus was long on venom and short on reasoning. To his mind there were two sides-his and the wrong one. 
   "Al," he said fairly spitting his words, "you're playing the same sort of word games Fitz Compton and his brood of snakes play. They've been fouling up America for years-they've taken money from good, hard-working Americans and given it to all sorts of...of...well...non-Americans. They've got us all tangled up in bad treaties, they want to outlaw trucks, they want to take away my guns. And Hartline is in league with them, up to the top of his goofy-hat-wearing head. If you won't stop him, I will."
   Ten minutes later, Judge Al and the rest of the Governing Council had suspended Titus from all member activities for a month when they would revisit the issue and expel him if he hadn't yet backed away from his recent delirium. He was simply going too far. 
   Another car honked and swerved to avoid a collision with Titus as he sped along the beltway. He reached out and patted the Ruger LCR .357 Magnum revolver on the seat next to him. He checked the rearview, not for traffic, but to admire his impressive $4,000 TenPoint Vapor RS470 Xero crossbow with range finding scope. He yanked the wheel to the right, cut across three lanes of traffic, and exited the beltway.
   "A month or a year-it don't matter," he said. "I'm gonna take care of Hartline. And I'm gonna do it my way."
§§
   Mike bolted up from his seat. 
   "Oh no, no, no, no." His face was scarlet. Veins popped out at the sides of his throat. "You can't start this fire, pour gasoline on it, and then walk away. You haven't even explained how to stop your strategy from taking effect yet. You... you...you've started a disaster. You cannot quit."
   Will sat with the "calm confidence of a Christian with four aces"2 until Mike had expelled all his venom and was on the verge of using every curse word he ever heard before he finally fell back into his seat, somewhat embarrassed by his reactive panic.
   "I said I was done," Will said, "not abandoning the cause."
   "This because of the arrow?" Jim asked. "No one would blame you for being a little worried. If you won't carry a gun, let me get you a security detail."
   Silence submerged the room. Will stroked his chin and looked at the two men. Will was obviously formulating his answer. Neither Jim nor Mike wanted to interrupt.
   "This is because the arrow made me realize time is always of the essence," Will said. "I can't continue to act like I've always got tomorrow, to see things through. I may not have tomorrow, or even the rest of today.
   "My primary and overriding concern is that none of your staff is still here," as he motioned toward the vacant Conference Room. "In a time-critical situation, their absence tells me largely what I need to know about them and you two still being here tells me what I need to know about you men.
   "I couldn't stop thinking about Sadie's comment all afternoon yesterday-a gal as smart as a whip, yet I couldn't reach her.
   "You confirming to me that I may be a target makes me realize that maybe I don't at present have the luxury of waiting for others who can't keep up. It is imperative for me to keep disseminating the information needed to stop my Political Year Strategy from taking effect, which means I need people capable of listening and following along.
   "They're not here, so I must concentrate on who is here. I think I am having some impact reaching you two. You guys seem to grasp my language while importantly also knowing theirs. I can't continue to stand in the way of you ultimately reaching them. I want you two to teach them after I finish teaching you.
   "Perhaps I isolated myself for too long or have delved too deeply into two-hundred-year-old writings to fit in now. I want you fine men to disseminate my work, using your words, without me getting in the way and slowing things down."
   The room was quiet, as Jim and Mike thought about what Will had said. It was hard to argue against him, even as they wished it were otherwise.
   Mike was the first to comment. "I am not sure I can argue against your conclusion, especially after listening to your comment to Sadie yesterday on Leap Years and the Founders."
   "What about the security measures, Will?" Jim asked, not wanting to place all the blame on their instructor. Jim was heavily concerned about the arrow and the Hartline logo, and not yet convinced Will should dismiss the threats so readily.
   "While I understand the need for our Chief Executive to have protection, it didn't start out this way," Will began, as the start of his normal circuitous response. "Jefferson wanted the White House to be open to the people. He put stuffed bears and artifacts from the Lewis and Clark expedition on the lawn for folks to come and see. Jackson had his famous 1,400-pound block of cheese. Legend holds the White House reeked of cheddar for over a year."
   Will had started off on another of his famous tangents. Mike would have interrupted, but couldn't bring himself to interrupt Will who was like grandpa recalling war stories.
   "After Whig President John Tyler vetoed the Whig-sponsored congressional bill to establish the third bank of the United States in 1841-saying he wouldn't sign the bill 'for any earthly reward,' even as it was his own party's primary political platform-his entire cabinet resigned in protest, except Daniel Webster. Soon, there was rioting in the streets and after someone threw a rock at him, he created an auxiliary guard-the first D.C. police. 
   "But the first president to demand around-the-clock protection was Franklin Pierce. He apparently took exception to being the target of a hard-boiled egg.
   "Of course, we all know what happened when Lincoln's security lapsed at the end of the Civil War, but you might not know the first time the White House gates were locked was because of a baby."
   By now, Mike and Jim were hooked as much as they were amused by Will's inability to be any different than he was.
   "Grover Cleveland's daughter used to play on the South Lawn with her nanny. Mrs. Cleveland-her name was Frances-took exception to the visitors who wandered over to admire and 'coochie coo' with young Ruth. The child was often called 'Baby'-yes, she is one and the same as the candy bar. The wonderful confection was not, as is commonly misconstrued, a tribute to the later Yankee baseball legend."
   Will took a swig from a nearby water bottle. His small audience seemed relieved he was at least spinning a yarn of lighter fare.
   "Well, time went on. Security increased steadily. The gates of the People's House were finally shut for good with the advent of World War II. Secret Service protection was further increased after the assassination of President Kennedy and again after attempts on both Ford and Reagan. Parenthetically, you young men may not know when John Hinkley's shot ricocheted into President Reagan, Alexander Haig, Secretary of State at the time, announced, "I am in charge," as Vice President Bush was en route back to Washington on Air Force Two, which did not have secure communications. Everyone in the room knew he was wrong-Tip O'Neill, the Speaker of the House, was next in the succession line-but no one wanted to upset General Haig. Since those days, personal security measures for all our top officials have increased."
   Will looked up when Mike and Jim burst out laughing, not at Will's story, but the fact Will simply couldn't help himself.
   Before Will could ask what was so funny, Jim said, "Okay, Will. You just convinced me. You cannot stay on point. I'm beginning to see the problem here. You are powerless to change your style, at least at this juncture of your life."
   "My point," Will said, who couldn't laugh at himself before he finished making his point, "is it is way past time to make the Office of the President relatively unimportant again, so few people would ever care to assassinate the President, because he could no longer interfere in darn near everything.
   "Security remains a huge federal issue today, because the federal government is doing so many things it shouldn't. Once we contain it again, its need for security will plummet. But, until it is contained, those who stand out front against federal overreach will necessarily find themselves in a precarious place."
   Will finally laughed out loud, knowing he was guilty of what he preferred to call "being consistent," which sounded so much better than "being a lost cause."
   Summing up his position on personal defense, Will added, "This important work to expose two hundred years of tyranny will necessarily contain a certain amount of risk-given the high stakes and players involved. I'm not convinced those farthest out front could ever be safe from the potential list of assassins our political opponents would have at their disposal if they were so inclined.
   "Please take every appropriate measure for yourselves. For me, I am sixty years old and have no immediate family. If I were to die today-in the service of restoring individual liberty and limited government-I would still have lived two or even three times as long as most of our 650,000 battle-dead American soldiers, plus just as many non-theater soldier deaths.
   "I'd say I had a pretty good run, no matter what my future holds. If the powerful people I will offend by springing my trap want me dead, there's probably not much I'd ever be able to do to stop them, since they'd be intent on punishing me, if that is what they decided to do.
   "I am right with my Maker, and He will assuredly take me when it is my time, when it is His time. I refuse to step out of the way and hide, and let some other person-one of you fine young men, for example-be the sacrificial lamb. If there needs to be a sacrifice to satisfy our opponents' revenge-seeking bloodlust, I cannot take measures that may induce our opponents to seek someone else. If they seek revenge, it must necessarily be against me."
   Will's measured answer brought the dreary discussion to a close, and Jim and Mike understood Will's position on the delicate subject.
   "We realize the risks involved, and we have already been talking with several respected firms about implementing in-depth security measures around here," Jim said. "This incident with your arrow merely confirms what we already knew we had to do. We'll just do it that much sooner."
§§
   No one said anything for a while. Then Will, quite unexpectedly at this point, laughed out loud again at himself.
   "I can't continue to be an obstruction, gentlemen. I must get out of the way, so you two can take this matter home. If this information has any chance to impact this country as it must, it will have to be you two men who carry it forward from here, even as I will do everything in my power, to help you succeed.
   "There is a saying, perhaps mistakenly attributed to Taoist Lao Tzu. Something to the effect-
"'When the student is ready, the teacher will appear. When the student is truly ready... The teacher will disappear.'
   "My job now is simply assuring you two will be ready."
§§
   "The Political Year Strategy is not something on which we wish to spend any time. This Administration has more pressing issues in the areas of healthcare reform, education, the environment, and voting rights." President Trapp took a sip of water, after finishing his comment.
   Press Secretary Nancy Johnson looked up from her tablet. "Is there anything else you want me to say about it? There are a lot of discussions about the proposal up on The Hill."
   "I'm sure there are," President Trapp said. "Those rapscallions would like nothing more than virtually unlimited terms of service. But I think what I gave you is sufficient. Hopefully, it will kill any speculation we had anything to do with the idea and we can move on to more substantive matters. You have any questions about any other policy issues they might ask about today?"
   "No, Mr. President," Nancy said. "I think the reporters are going to hammer away on this issue for the foreseeable future. There's nothing else on the horizon with such far-reaching impact as Will Hartline's Political Year Strategy."
   "Use the high school essay approach," President Trapp said.
   "Sir?"
   "Tell them what you're going to tell them. Then tell them. Then tell them what you told them. Afterwards, shut it down. Got it?"
   "Yes, Mr. President."
   "Good. I'm sure you will do great. We're done, for now."
   The Press Secretary headed for the door. "Thank you, Mr. President."
   Soon after the latch clicked, Chief of Staff Darrel Atwater jumped to his feet.
   "You're getting much better at this, Mr. President," he said. "You gave Nancy the sincere impression you're opposed to The Political Year Strategy without actually coming out and declaring you were opposed to it."
   "Well," the President replied, "I've had some superb teachers. I was bound to get it, sooner or later.
   "When this thing sweeps through Congress, as my sources on The Hill tell me it will, we can throw our hands in the air and claim we never actively supported it. It's called 'plausible deniability' as you well know, and it's going to keep my family in the White House long after I'm gone, if I have anything to say about it." 
   

Chapter 27
   A light bulb clicked on in Mike's mind, bringing back to the forefront of his mind, his greatest remaining concern.
   "You've lit this ticking time bomb, Will-your monkey trap, your human spider web, or whatever you call it-and then you tell us you're leaving the hard work to us, but you haven't even told us how to defuse it yet."
   Jim stepped in, even as he wasn't entirely sure all the hard work remained only in the future. "Just how do we stop your blasted strategy from taking effect, Will, and how do we stop our opponents from continuing to rule from on high?"
   "As I said, my Political Year Strategy merely uses Hamilton's third rail to take too far Hamilton's Government-By-Deception-Through-Redefinition Scheme, to expose the underlying fallacies of Hamilton's devilish means he used to implement his first two rails so long ago," Will said.
   "If judges may redefine some of the words of the Constitution, what is stopping them from changing more, or even all of them?
   "For two centuries now, these tyrants have supposedly 'reinterpreted' the legal meaning of various words and phrases found in the Constitution, like their most-favorite-'necessary and proper,' to mean 'convenient.'
   "Far too many people doubt their knowledge of such terms, at least when used in a formal legal setting.
   "The first benefit of The Political Year Strategy is its attempt to redefine for political gain, a simple word people readily understand-the word 'Year.'
   "As much as tyrants may try to rationalize how they have this theoretical power to redefine words found in the Constitution to mean something else, when they try it with a word everyone knows well, the people won't be so easily swindled.
   "The word 'Year' has a clear, black and white meaning, without all those pesky shades of gray as found with so many other redefined words and phrases.
   "People who can't easily follow along give up in their mind, allowing their body to become enslaved. We saw this firsthand with your staff-they gave up, at least temporarily, before they understood what I was trying carefully to explain to them. Well, our opponents will never explain truthfully how they get away with their shenanigans-instead, they will simply try and throw us further off their scent, with each passing breath.
   "However, the people who stick with it-who persist and put forth the effort needed to follow along-may restore not only their own freedom, but also everyone else's.
   "Choosing to redefine an easily-understood word for false political gain will prove to be a ticking time bomb, once we light the appropriate fuse, supplied by picking a word and purpose the Constitution won't allow to be redefined by those who exercise delegated federal powers.
   "You men have finally made it through differential diagnosis, and are ready to learn about the cure. But, I think we ought to first spend some time going through everything I've already covered thus far and answering any questions you may yet have.
§§
   The story around D.C. went like this. Fitzhugh Compton fell in the Potomac and was drowning. Andrew Carrier passed by and threw him an anchor.
   Of course, the characters switched depending on who was telling the story. Regardless, the Senate Majority and Minority Leaders did not care for one another. While they might not openly admit it, they thought the only reason to "reach across the aisle" was to poke the other in the eye.
   They sat in Carrier's office, a site chosen because of the Majority Leader's position. Also present were both party leaders from the House of Representatives. 
   "You have your people in line?" Carrier asked as he glanced toward the Minority Leader.
   The Speaker of the House shifted as if to speak. Carrier held up his hand. "This isn't the kiddie table at Thanksgiving," he said. "The Senators will speak; the others will listen."
   Chastised, the Speaker sat in silence. He was understandably upset his fellow party leader in the Senate shut him down so rudely, to give deference to the opposing party leader of the Senate.
   Gamesmanship such as this provided fair evidence the game itself is what mattered to many players, even more than partisan politics. Politics is much about the appearance of unprecedented power to boost the egos of weak-minded politicians whose personalities needed constant reassurance of their importance and continuing relevance.
   Fitzhugh cleared his throat. "It goes without saying everything here is off the record," he said.
   Every head nodded. And every mind had the same thought. How does he speak with so many chins?
   Satisfied, Carrier was the first to speak on the subject before them. "I am voting no. I will make an impassioned speech about the sanctity of American government and all the other stuff we love to say when we are waving the flag."
   "I want to see a copy before you take the floor," Compton said.
   "As I expect to see yours," Carrier said. "I'm sure yours will contain as much fertilizer as mine. Anyway (he glared at the Minority Leader with enough disdain to show he really didn't like any of his Capitol Hill colleagues), I'll make my speech but an overwhelming majority of the other forty-nine members of my party will vote yes. You are on-board with my arrangements for a secret ballot, correct?"
   "Absolutely," Compton said. "The only two votes on record will be yours and mine. I let it be known to the Senators of my party that no one who wants any influence in the long years to come is to request to enter the Yeas and Nays on the Journal-twenty percent is such a low threshold we must absolutely crucify any member who requests it and any member who votes for it. I am speaking against The Political Year Strategy as well. Members will vote by assignment. They may only change positions if they find someone to swap with, both of whom must get final clearance from one of us."
   "We will keep a running tally," Carrier said, "so we will know who steps out of line. Every time someone votes, we will see it electronically-but we are the only ones who will know for sure. It's a nice little piece of political blackmail to have if we need it. I've already put out the word-you vote the way you are told, or you can kiss committee assignments and national party support goodbye."
   "Okay," Carrier said, "forty-two of my caucus should vote yes. Your number should be about the same-we want to send the message of overwhelming support for this legislative bill."
   "Precisely. So, the final vote should be 84 in favor-16 opposed. Then you and I go before the American public and apologize for being so woefully out of step with their wishes. We tell them we didn't realize how much Americans despised the election cycle and how much they wanted greater stability in government, with money and effort spent in constructive ways, so they directed their representatives to vote in favor. We promise to uphold their will, blah, blah, blah."
   "Sounds about right," Compton said. "Then, we focus on securing our absolute rule. We'll have this whipped out in no time."
§§
   "Okay, let's have it," Jim said Thursday morning, after Will had answered their present questions the day before. It was time for Will to show them the underlying logical fallacy of The Political Year Strategy, so they could prevent it from taking effect.
   "Of course, the real power of the strategy is that it uses the same tactics that have been used to reinterpret so many other words and phrases. Thus, the tactics you will use to prevent my strategy from taking effect may be used afterwards to throw off the false reinterpretation of any other word or phrase of the Constitution," Will said.
   "Let me explain it another way. If a member of the Washington Nationals hits a homerun and runs around the bases starting at third, heading to second and the around to first, what happens?"
   "I'm shocked, Will, that you would know anything about sports, but here you go with a sports analogy," Mike joked. "The Founders didn't play football, baseball, or basketball, after all."
   "Two points," Will said, largely admitting his guilt. "I didn't even know the Washington Nationals were a team until I arrived here a few weeks ago. But, I did play Little League and Pop Warner football in my youth, which wasn't 200 years ago, you know."
   The men joked for another minute before Jim said, "Well, I've never thought about it before, Will, but I assume he wouldn't score. He may even be an out."
   "What if someone from the Baltimore Orioles does it-different league. Would it be okay?" Will asked. Mike smirked, but didn't comment, since their teacher was too prone to drift.
   "No. He'd be out too," Jim said.
   "Why?" Will asked, testing his pupils.
   "Ah...because it's against the rules," Jim said almost in the form of a question.
   "So, even the simplest of sports have rules that must be enforced, but our government custodians who were likewise given prescribed, written rules may supposedly play their political 'game' by changing the rules meant explicitly for them, even as those rules were intentionally written into the supreme Law of the Land, so they couldn't be changed, except in the manner specified?
   "Just what sort of nonsense is this, really?
   "Why was the U.S. Constitution ever written, if its rules don't bind everyone involved in the game?
   "But, incredibly, our self-proclaimed political 'masters' want us to believe they may ignore the rules made specifically for them, with impunity, and there's nothing we can do about it.
   "It's the most absurd thing to ever suggest that our servants are in fact our masters, yet one may find two centuries of false theoretical support for this ridiculous conclusion.
   "Even worse than those bizarre assertions, though-we on the receiving end have impotently stood by and let our opponents have free reign, because we were too lazy to do our own work and figure out how they were ever able to rule without effective restraint.
   "Well, it is high-time to end the false reign of paper tyrants, who claim they have the magical powers to do as they please, everywhere.
   "As I said, even the simplest of sports have rules. Because, if they didn't have enforceable rules, each game would necessarily devolve into a free-for-all, turning every ball field and sport court into a violent and bloody massacre to the last man standing.
   "So, every sport and every game necessarily have rules that players may not change. Not even referees or umpires get to change the rules-they only enforce existing rules fairly, consistently, evenly.
   "Well, believe it or not, the same thing applies with all American governments. Federal, State and local governments all have rules, set by rule-makers above them. Government custodians who are empowered to exercise delegated enumerated powers cannot themselves ever change those powers.
   "Only the several States of the Union ratified the U.S. Constitution into existence and only they ratify amendments that change the allowed federal powers. No person who ever exercises any delegated federal powers that may be exercised throughout the Union may ever change those powers, and their required oaths prove it.
   "All the trouble-makers do today-indeed, all they have ever done for the past two hundred and thirty years-is modify words and phrases found in the Constitution only where the Constitution allows them, which is only for exclusive legislation properties under the exclusive legislation authority of Clause 17, where they may and must make up all their own rules, as they go along.
   "Yes, words found in the Constitution may be given a new and altered meaning, but only in and for the District of Columbia and forts, magazines, arsenals, dockyards and other needful buildings, because only on these exclusive legislation lands may federal caretakers operate from a blank slate, which they may fill in as they please.
   "Remember, no written State, State-like, or District Constitution exists to guide and direct Congress, the President and the courts, in D.C.-like State Constitutions exist in every State of the Union, to guide and direct the respective State legislators. Thus, those who serve in D.C. must there make up their own rules they decide to follow. Nowhere else besides exclusive legislation lands are the players and referees ever empowered and allowed to change the rules of the game as it's being played.
   "The required oaths show the oath-takers' subservience to the Constitution for the Union, which they are all powerless to change."
   "Okay, okay, okay," Jim said. "You've finally rammed that vital information into our thick skulls-what about stopping your pesky Political Year Strategy?"
   Will answered, "Remember, never may an inferior rule overcome a superior principal. The vital piece of information you need to prohibit 'Year'-as used in the Constitution for legislative and executive elective terms and election intervals-from being given a new meaning, is no word or phrase found in the Constitution may ever be given a new meaning for the whole Union by any member of Congress, American President, or court, whatsoever-nor even all of them, working together. Ever.
   "Indeed, even if the word 'Year' was given a new meaning for the District of Columbia for some other use, no new meaning may ever affect its fixed meaning for federal elective terms and election intervals, because those important matters are necessarily fixed by the U.S. Constitution for the whole Union within its apple pie recipe to which all the States agreed and which only the States may change.
   "Because, no member of Congress, or all of them together, may ever change the apple pie recipe. Neither may the Supreme Court nor the President, who have nothing to do with amendments.
   "Remember, members' secondary role as the primary authority in the District Seat may never affect let alone override their primary role for the Union, if or when the two authorities stand in opposition to one another-whenever they conflict with one another.
   "You both already know the Vice President of the United States is the Ex Officio President of the Senate-because of the named primary position as Vice President under the Constitution, the Constitution also gives the VP his or her secondary named position-President of the Senate- even if he or she doesn't often perform that secondary duty any more, except when counting the Electoral votes, for instance.
   "Well, those same U.S. Representatives and U.S. Senators who are elected in their primary role as members of Congress for the Union, are also given their secondary position, to rule authoritatively in and over the District Seat as federal masters.
   "But, remember, those federal masters may never actually bake an apple pie with their shoofly pie ingredients and their shoofly pie recipe. They may only bake apple pies from their apple pie ingredients and apple pie recipe. And, they must necessarily follow the directions of the apple pie recipe, for the whole Union.
   "Once we know they are merely trying to switch pies-switch recipes, switch ingredients and switch outcomes-we may finally call them out. It is time to call an apple pie an apple pie and a shoofly pie a shoofly pie. No more may a shoofly pie ever be called an apple pie, even if they try and make it look like it.
   "Since 'Year' redefined for the District Seat could never change the meaning of 'Year' in the Constitution for federal elective terms and election intervals which are detailed within the apple pie recipe, federal elections must necessarily take place every second calendar year, at least if government is to continue.
   "If no elections were made at the appropriate two-calendar-year interval, then every seat in the House of Representatives would become vacant, as well as one-third of the Senatorial seats, and, depending upon the year, the office of President and Vice President.
   "And, when enough legislative positions remained unfilled after the expiration of the term of the previous occupants who are necessarily thrown out of their seats upon the expiration of their term, then the federal government would soon succumb due to an inability to form a quorum necessary to do government business.
   "As Chief Justice John Marshall said in 1821 Cohens, something to the effect that:
The States can put an end to the government by refusing to act. They have only not to elect Senators, and it expires without a struggle.
   "Of course, the same thing largely occurs in the House of Representatives in the absence of U.S. Representatives. It may just prove easier to prevent a quorum in the less-populated Senate. Without either House, appropriations cannot be made for government expenditures, laws cannot be enacted, resolutions cannot be approved. Without Senators, superior officers cannot be confirmed and replaced, treaties cannot be made, etc.
   "Thus, it is patently obvious without regular federal elections-every two calendar years as mandated by the U.S. Constitution, which federal guardians cannot change-government would cease to exist. Thus, it cannot be necessary or proper for Congress to choose as the sole Election Date, February 29th.
   "Now, if Congress specified another day or date that was used for odd-Leap-Year elections, then February 29th could still be used roughly every other election, but this still wouldn't allow 'Year' to be redefined as a 'Political Year' to overrule the election intervals or term lengths, that are specified in the apple pie recipe.
   "Remember, the rules of games are always strictly enforced-you must just know which rulebook or recipe is being referenced and enforced.
   "The shoofly pie recipe for the District Seat never trumps the apple pie recipe for the remainder of the Union. The shoofly pie rulebook for the District Seat never trumps the apple pie rulebook for the remainder of the Union. When the two conflict, then the District Seat shoofly pie recipe/rulebook necessarily fails, every time, at least when it is properly called out.
   "Yes, there may be nuances, but one batter doesn't get nine strikes while everyone else gets three. You don't round the bases the wrong way. The rules.
   "The really great thing about having rules in place for everyone to follow is that it does not even matter who is playing.
   "Do I prefer conservative members of Congress and federal officials? Yes. But, if we enforce the proper rules, there really isn't enough latitude to matter greatly.
   "We have expressed powers from which no one in government may deviate-not the President...not the Congress...not the Supreme Court. We will return to government of...for...and by the people, when we finally enforce the rules of the right game. We can eat apple pie again. Not everyone likes shoofly pie, and for good reason."
   Mike leaned forward. "I get what you mean with recipes, but I'm not sure when you refer to rulebooks. What precisely are you saying there, just so I make sure I'm on board with your analogy?"
   "The whole of the U.S. Constitution, save Clause 17, is the real rulebook for the direct exercise of the enumerated powers throughout the Union-the apple pie recipe.
   "Article I, Section 8, Clause 17 for the District Seat is then the special subsection rule for D.C. and other exclusive legislation lands, which clause is nominally found within the first rulebook. Clause 17 otherwise amounts to a second rulebook for exclusive legislation properties. Clause 17 is the recipe for shoofly pie.
   "And, the only permanent rule of the second rulebook is members of Congress have the nearly-unlimited capacity to make up all their other needed rules therein as they go along. So, the second rulebook consists of one rule and otherwise contains as many blank pages as federal caretakers choose to fill with as many self-made rules as they see fit to enact and impose. And, over the centuries, they have added tens and hundreds of thousands of pages to that secondary rulebook.
   "Clause 17 is like the magic genie lamp of folklore, but it doesn't merely give three wishes, but an unlimited number.
   "To the extent the U.S. Constitution allows the existence of perpetual magic genie lamps, it necessarily keeps genies locked in the bottle, which is the District of Columbia. We just can't forget to replace the stopper, when they are in their bottle, for they have a tendency to sneak out when we aren't paying adequate attention.
   "Back to the sports theme-can members of Congress combine the rules of football, baseball, basketball, and soccer, into one odd new game in the District Seat?
   "Yes, they may, in D.C., thereby making up some of the oddest rules possible, some of which will undoubtedly contradict one another from time to time.
   "The more convoluted the rules in their odd D.C. games, the more reasons Congress would choose to empower referees to make needed changes as the game is being played-to settle quickly all the unforeseen contradictions so the game may continue."
   Jim had been quiet. Something was resonating within his mind and he was trying his best to grasp it.
   "Wait a minute, Will," he said just before it hit him. "You said without an election every second calendar year the federal government would soon cease to exist-maybe we should let it expire, peacefully."
   "Refusing to seat U.S. Representatives and U.S. Senators is a route individual States could pursue, to opt out of directly supporting the federal scheme," Will answered. "Normally, this effect would be a direct function of intentional secession efforts by individual States.
   "My fundamental position is if we restrict federal actions to enumerated powers, then secession wouldn't be necessary, only dangerous. But this doesn't mean States couldn't nevertheless seek to limit inappropriate federal powers within their borders, even to the point of giving up federal representation in Congress.
   "Voluntarily pulling representation without also asserting secession is an option never discussed, yet it would allow the States to withdraw their vote of confidence within a corrupted system that itself has minimum threshold requirements, without threat to the States from the federal government, as when States seek secession.
   "When the individual voters in a State abstain from voting for regular elections, the remainder of voters get to make the decisions.
   "However, Congress is structured differently, since Article I, Section 5, Clause 1 specifies minimum quorum numbers required to perform government business. A quorum consists of a simple majority of the whole number of Representatives and the whole number of U.S. Senators, as dictated in the apple pie recipe. A minority may only adjourn from day to day and attempt to compel the attendance of absent members.
   "When individual States abstain from sending their U.S. Representatives and/or U.S. Senators to Congress, they directly make it more difficult for the remainder to meet the required quorum requirements. If enough States pull their representation in Congress, they may force major concessions, all without the inherent danger of internal conflict from secession, without directly challenging the validity of the federal government, in total.
   "Let's look at withdrawing representation, for a moment, because no one discusses the option without simultaneously pursuing secession, the latter which I argue is a step too far.
   "Because, of course, American history proves the North refused to concede to Southern secession during the Civil War.
   "There is of course a danger-beyond war-to the States remaining in the Union when they refuse to acknowledge secession, which refusal to send representatives is the State's individual prerogative. Note for example Article V only prohibits 'equal suffrage in the Senate' without the unrepresented State's consent. A State may willingly decide to withdraw its equal suffrage in the Senate.
   "And, the danger to the remainder of individual States who try and meet while others pull their legislative representation is being unable to seat enough members in relation to the whole, to reach the needed threshold, to form a quorum needed to do government business.
   "This was a recurring problem under the Articles of Confederation before the Constitution was ratified.
   "Six States or less attended the Confederation Congress-meaning no quorum could be reached to do any government business whatsoever-nearly 50% of the days in 1788 and 30% in 1789. This is the primary reason the Constitution sought to give one vote to each Senator, rather than one vote to each State-so minimum quorums may be easier met.
   "If enough States withdraw their Senators, or enough big States withdraw their Representatives, the remainder of States must at some escalating point either acknowledge secession or risk imploding the Union entirely. Recognizing secession becomes the route to preserve a smaller Union of States, of those wishing to remain in the Union.
   "But, until this critical point of acknowledging secession is reached, history proves the remaining States won't willingly let go of those wanting fully to opt out. Real danger exists from forced restraint. But, real danger exists from denied exit, also.
   "If the States remaining in the Union seek to deny secession, at some point they won't be able to reach a quorum. About the only thing they may attempt to stave off implosion would be to divide up the remaining States to form new States. This would give the Union additional Senators to draw upon to meet minimum quorum requirements in the Senate more easily. But, if enough big States withdraw their representation in the House of Representatives, the loss of so many Representatives-who are seated by apportionment-can't be helped by the creation of more States from the original 50 States, because Representatives are seated according to State population in relation to the whole (with the whole numbers not changing until secession is acknowledged, no matter how many States are created out of the old ones).
   "But, a balkanization of the remaining States into smaller States in the first alternative would itself decentralize federal powers, because there are only so many big cities to be found and further division increases the conservative voice found in the rural areas.
   "Of course, with dwindling representation, one would invariably find new movements to make new States out of Puerto Rico and other American territories, to increase population of those in the Union.
   "As I said, I don't believe a full-on secession is needed, or even pulling representation, for we may restore limited government as enumerated within the Constitution by learning how it has been bypassed and responding appropriately.
   "So, Jim, back to your comment about skipping an election. It not only risks the Union, but also the Constitution. 
   "If we ended up getting rid of the Constitution, but not the Union, then our opponents would win their grandest possible prize.
   "Those malefactors have been trying for 232 years to free themselves from the Constitution straight-jacket, so they may write their own ticket and give themselves inherent power everywhere.
   "Do you really think there is so much more principled political knowledge today-and the current structure necessary to implement it appropriately-to craft a new and better form of government, than what happened some 234 years ago? Would we really be better off starting over?
   "I was hesitant to pursue my Political Year Strategy because it could be game-over for us one way or another if I failed to expose the underlying fraud of Hamilton's Government-by-Deception-through-Redefinition Scheme to the bright light of day. 
   "After all, in a government of absolute rule, it is difficult to predict or foretell what the future holds.
   "For example, let's say federal custodians grew increasingly worried at the last minute about the congressional terms set to expire on January 3rd, where there hadn't been a recent election, because members of Congress and federal officials believed they could serve Political Years instead of calendar years, after they changed the date of federal elections to February 29th.
   "Without new duly-elected U.S. Representatives and no new class of U.S. Senators, what could they do with unchallenged inherent authority, to stave off a pending shutdown of government?
   "While the U.S. Constitution allows State executives to make temporary appointments for vacant Senatorial seats, which could be performed quickly, it only allows them to issue Writs of Elections to fill vacancies in the House of Representatives by special elections, which typically take months to fill.
   "So, my question is, with unchallenged absolute authority, what would stop existing members of Congress or the Court from simply deciding to redefine 'Year' to be a 'century' or 'millennium' and keep every present term from expiring during any members', President's, or Vice-President's lifetimes?
   "I mean, if political masters may truly reinterpret words and phrases at will-if 'necessary and proper' may be changed to mean only 'convenient' as the Court has expressly claimed for over 200 years-then no justification whatsoever is ever needed for any decision they make, beyond it merely being convenient for them.
   "And, wouldn't centuries-long terms for members of Congress be 'convenient?'
   "After all, it was the 1871 Legal Tender Cases decision where the majority on the bench all but bragged the 1819 McCulloch v. Maryland Court reinterpreted 'necessary and proper' to mean only 'convenient.' Convenient for whom? Why, obviously, the political masters themselves, to do anything and everything in their favor. 
   "Let me grab my notes out of my bag, about this important case, which first upheld legal tender paper currencies, in part, by looking to an earlier precedent-just give me a minute...
   "Okay, I got it-here's the passage from the 1871 Legal Tender Cases, at page 537:
...for the convenience of the Treasury and internal commerce, a corporation known as the United States Bank was early created. To its capital the government subscribed one-fifth of its stock. But the corporation was a private one, doing business for its own profit. Its incorporation was a constitutional exercise of congressional power for no other reason than that it was deemed to be a convenient instrument or means for accomplishing one or more of the ends for which the government was established, or, in the language of the first article, already quoted, "necessary and proper" for carrying into execution some or all the powers vested in the government. Clearly this necessity, if any existed, was not a direct and obvious one. Yet this Court, in McCulloch v. Maryland, unanimously ruled that in authorizing the bank, Congress had not transcended its powers."
   "Of course Congress 'had not transcended its powers'-because Clause 17 speaks to the powers members are given exclusively-'in all Cases whatsoever,' which reaches to every conceivable power and action except those few things expressly prohibited.
   "Now, the powers members may directly exercise throughout the Union are another matter entirely. Obviously, the Court's statement 'this necessity, if any existed, was not a direct and obvious one' is an understatement of vast proportions-because the exercise of this power was only indirectly possible under the D.C.-exclusive legislation authority. 'Necessary and proper' may only mean 'convenient' in D.C. and other exclusive legislation federal lands.
   "Just because the McCulloch and Legal Tender Cases Courts went through so many legal gyrations to make their screwball decisions sound 'reasonable' doesn't yet make 'reasonableness' a requirement for any law capable of being implemented conveniently.
   "Likewise, just because my Political Year Strategy also gave a 'reasonable' explanation as to how elective federal terms could be extended four-fold doesn't mean the decision to give 'Year' a new meaning need be 'reasonable,' since they claim the power to act 'conveniently.' 
   "In other words, whenever inherent power is allowed, it necessarily devolves into absolute rule of the greatest tyrant doing whatever and however they please. Period. End of story.
   "It is therefore utterly absurd for federal caretakers to claim omnipotent government power, yet essentially every person alive today believes this lie to be the truth. At best, people at least accept it being beyond their own power to change.
   "It is all nonsense-pure and unadulterated nonsense-but it is the gospel truth to millions of misguided Americans who have closed their minds and followed the herd, so they may help pick out the paint and curtains, instead of repairing the failing foundation.
   "A great quote, often misattributed to George Washington, says:
Government is not reason, it is not eloquence-it is force.
   "The fact that President Washington did not actually say or write this doesn't necessarily take away from its force, even as his considerable weight does not stand behind it.
   "But, James Madison, Jr. did say:
   'The Essence of Government is Power.'
   And, thankfully, the only powers truly available for direct exercise throughout the Union using necessary and proper means are only those powers specifically enumerated within our written Constitution.
   "Our federal servants are not our omnipotent political masters despite their absurd claims otherwise.
    "Quit listening to judicial fairy tales that may sound reasonable when they are in fact nonsensical, whenever they support inherent powers everywhere exercised.
   "All those draconian opinions are given merely to throw people off track and pacify them sufficiently so they don't revolt against the truly revolting principles that underly absolute despotism.
   "If members of Congress and federal officials may do as they claim everywhere and change their powers at will-by changing the definition of words found in the Constitution-then they necessarily have the inherent authority to rule arbitrarily for a thousand years, and there wouldn't be anything anyone could do about it, short of revolution.
   "Once Covid-19 hit, or was accidentally or intentionally let loose, I grew desperate enough to try something designed to rock the boat sufficiently so we would have some chance of regaining control of the rudder.
   "It was truly disheartening to see the United States not only follow, but often lead, other anti-freedom countries around the world in lockstep fashion, commanding absolute subservience to absurd mandates and illogical lockdowns as if there were no such thing as unalienable rights and Due Process.
   "However, it was even more disheartening to see so many Americans give up critical thinking skill precisely when they were needed most, out of irrational fear enflamed by intense propaganda which has no place in the free world."
   The three men continued to discuss matters until it was time to take another break. After using the restroom, stretching their legs, and getting cool drinks, they settled back into their discussion.
   "I'm starting to get it," Mike said. "But, how do we get the train back on track?"
   "By exposing the fraud," Will answered. "We work first to simplify and then amplify the message.
   "We expose how those scoundrels who exercise delegated federal powers have steered the train to a different track that makes all trains route through one District hub, so they may take a cut of everything passing through their greedy little hands.
   "We pull up all the tracks leading every State train through one central command hub. We go back to 50 decentralized train tracks and 50 primary train station hubs with separate tracks for all issues reserved to the States. No longer must State-issue trains travel to D.C.
   "We end forced uniformity on all things reserved to the States and allow the States to go forward in 50 different ways, regarding their reserved powers."
   "I mean constitutionally, to prevent the moral deadbeats from ruling from on high," Mike clarified.
   "Well, we don't need to put the cart before the horse, and worry about the last steps, first," Will answered. "But, it is still best to know the ultimate destination even at the start of our journey.
   "We have two possible changes to right the faltered Ship of State permanently.
   "Remember, nothing any federal servant has ever done has ever changed the U.S. Constitution. No federal action has ever altered the powers for direct exercise throughout the Union. It is impossible. Those who swear an oath to support the Constitution so they may exercise delegated federal powers may never change those delegated federal powers as they affect the Union. They may only exercise inherent discretion within their exclusive legislation authority. And they may only extend exclusive authority beyond proper boundaries by deception to hide their devious extension of allowed powers beyond allowable boundaries.
   "Truth adequately exposed extinguishes all lies.
   "Exposing truth is not something for which we need legislative majorities. We don't need to win elections to expose the lies and shout out the truth.
   "Exposing and disseminating the truth will take us 90 to 95% of the way there. We can worry about the last 5% or 10% that rely upon legislative majorities once we get there, once we have disseminated the truth far and wide.
   "After we've ended their false rule, there are, as I said, several options available to us.
   "First, we can contain the inherent discretion allowed in D.C. to D.C., and other exclusive legislation lands. I call this my 'Once and For All Amendment.' What it does-"
   "Whoa," Jim said. "If Mike and I are going to have to explain this to people, we need the Reader's Digest version of this thing. Neither of us has your stamina for long explanations."
   "Okay," Will said. "I'll give it a shot. The first option is all about containment. Do I need to quote Article I, Section 8, Clause 17?"
   Mike looked like a man who was going to agree to oral surgery without anesthesia. "Yes."
   "Clause 17 says-
Congress shall have Power...To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of Government of the United States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by the Consent of the Legislature of the State in which the Same shall be, for the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, dock-Yards, and other needful Buildings.
   "Okay, so we're not going to build any more forts?" Jim asked.
   Will smiled. "I know you are being facetious," he said. "What my first option will do is exempt Clause 17 of the Constitution from being any part of the supreme Law of the Land under Article VI.
   "According to Chief Justice John Marshall in 1821 Cohens-and he's right-there are currently no detailed words found in the Constitution expressly preventing Clause 17 from being considered as part of 'This Constitution' and enforced as the 'supreme Law of the Land' even as this fact doesn't otherwise bind the States on their reserved powers, ever."
   "So far, so good," Jim said.
    "Containment would let stand the roughly 95% of the federal legislation enacted under Clause 17 but inappropriately extended throughout the Union. But, after ratification, it would unequivocally restrict all that exclusive legislation to exclusive legislation grounds.
   "Oregon's laws do not impact Idaho and Idaho's law do not count in Montana; likewise, the exclusive legislation laws enacted by Congress under Clause 17, even though signed by the President, could never again bind any State either after the amendment to contain Clause 17 to exclusive legislative grounds is ratified.
   "We openly declare Clause 17 shall not be construed to be any part of the supreme Law of the Land, under Article VI. This statement follows the clarifying principle espoused in the 1795 Eleventh Amendment, to provide the missing words Marshall pointed out are not in the Constitution. Those words aren't there, but that doesn't mean we can't simply add them."
   Jim interrupted when Will took a breath. "I just have one question before I'd like to take again a short break and get something to drink. Then we can talk about your other option."
   "A moment ago, you said 'after we've ended their false rule, there were several options available...in the form of one of two possible amendments.' Don't you mean, to end their false rule we'd have to ratify one of two possible amendments? Aren't you putting the cart before the horse, or maybe more accurately in this case, the horse after the cart?"
   "Well, obviously, ratifying one of two possible amendments would set matters in stone, solidifying the changes for all time, correcting the false extension of allowed powers, beyond proper geographic boundaries," Will answered. "This may be the end goal, but it doesn't mean we must wait to throw off improper government action until an amendment gets ratified.
   "Ratifying the containment amendment will be the equivalent of closing the corral gate after we round up all the wild horses and bring them back to the newly rebuilt corral, which reconstructed corral will finally prevent them from escaping ever again.
   "After ratification-or fortification in this instance-the horses, no matter how wild, will only get out into the country when a federal rider takes them out for a walk or ride, under a rope or halter, to provide them strict constitutional guidance they must follow when they are out of the corral or barn.
   "Remember, even now, the horses aren't free to run wild out of the corral, but must be under the guidance of a federal rider, who keeps the horse on allowable federal paths.
   "Unfortunately, we never once mended the fences of the original corral, and the corral quickly fell into disrepair. Even so, this fact doesn't actually give horses permission to go everywhere and do anything they please, even as things are now.
   "So, even with our rather-worthless corral, we may and must still go out and lasso the wild horses any time they escape their proper containment, and bring them back to their proper domain. Only in the exclusive federal corral may horses run free, without a rope or halter, even now.
   "This chasing and capturing of wild horses without a rebuilt corral may seem needlessly repetitive, when we could just rebuild the corral and make it inescapable. But sometimes, things just take a great deal of time, effort, and money, and rebuilding this federal corral is one of those cases.
   "Until we ratify the containment amendment, we must diligently seek out and capture every escaped horse. We bring them back into the corral, one at a time, if need be, on each issue presented, each and every time they escape.
   "Yes, it will be a lot of work, especially at first. Eventually, our diligence will pay off. In time, the wild stallions will become domesticated and less unruly, minimizing our repetitive work.
   "Once more people understand the absurdity of perpetually expending so much effort individually corralling so many escaped horses, we can end the needless repetition by proposing and ratifying the containment amendment.
   "Ratification of the containment amendment would rebuild and fortify the corral, keeping all riderless horses within the corral. 
   "So, it doesn't hurt to pursue the amendment, but we may still bring in each escaped horse-even if the corral hasn't been rebuilt with the amendment-because horses are yet only allowed out of the barn or corral, even now, only if they are under a rope or halter, with a federal rider guiding their action."
   "Okay, I like your analogy," Mike said, "but how, exactly, do we rope federal caretakers into submission?"
   "We fight them in the court of public opinion by disclosing their Constitution bypass mechanism," Will answered, "and we fight them in courts of law by using the right defense, pointing out their devious mechanisms of constitutional bypass.
   "Our other amendment-repeal-will destroy the corral where the horses could once run free.
   "Our amendment of repeal is far more serious-for it will confine the horses only to individual stalls within our confined, locked, and ultra-secure barn. With repeal, no longer will any horse ever be able to run free, not even in a confined corral. They only get out of the barn and get to roam the country, under guidance of a federal rider, who must use the reins of the U.S. Constitution as a halter to guide the horse where it may go. Any escaped horse without federal rider running wild throughout the States would under repeal be shot on sight. Any horses refusing to be tamed or restrained would become glue, because they don't have any say in the matter."
   Mike bolted from his seat, wanting to take a much-needed break. "I could use a cold beer," he said, "but since we're still at work, I'll settle for a soda over ice."
§§
   Bill's Hunt Shack served a small area about thirty miles south of D.C. He loved his work even though he didn't make a lot of money. He got to spend every day talking to "his people," folks who loved to track, hunt, and fish. Bill had built a nice clientele over the store's twenty-seven-year span of operation-knowing many of his repeat customers by name. But he didn't recognize the thick-necked man who slithered in about fifteen minutes before closing.
   "Howdy, mister," he said. "Name's Bill. You trackin', huntin', or fishin'?"
   "Bow huntin'," the man said.
   "How can I help you."
   The man's deep-set eyes shifted nervously under the bill of his Peterbilt cap.
   "What do you have in the way of crossbow bolts that cause maximum damage?"
   "Why would you ever want to inflict 'maximum damage?" Bill asked, even as no hunter ever wants his wounded game to wander off and suffer until it died slowly. No, what didn't sit well with Bill with this customer who emphasized pain and suffering as an end in and of itself, rather than merely a means necessary to the end of gathering meat.  The guy seemed rather crazed, even if Bill couldn't put his finger specifically what led him to that conclusion.
   "None of your business," the sour-faced man said. "Just tell me where I can find your broadheads."
   "You just called it, Bud; it won't be my business," Bill said in stern voice raised to give caution to his two staff members to drop what they had been doing and square off with the man facing Bill. The staff members knew the drill-they placed the palms of their hands lightly on the grips of their favored pistols, ready to draw them from their respective holsters as they stared down "the invited customer" who had just become an "unwelcome intruder." 
   "It's not my business to sell our fine products to thugs, ruffians, or criminals. Your attitude alarms me. You are not going to be my customer. Not today. Not ever. Get outta here and never come back!"
   Once Titus left the building, under protest, Bill removed his palm from the grip of his own holstered .45-caliber Sig Sauer pistol, turned, and looked at the outside security feed.
   Noting the make and model of vehicle, Bill wrote down the license plate number and the time in his log book he kept of suspicious activity, should he have any future need of it. He also wrote out a short incident report to jog his memory and made a backup of the video clip for long-term storage.
   Titus slid behind the driver's seat and peeled out of the parking lot, nearly causing a wreck as he merged onto the highway.
   
   
   


Chapter 28
   Jim took a long pull on his soda, released a satisfied "ahhhh," and settled into his leather desk chair.  "You're still at bat," he said, to Will, after their break.
   "Okay," Will said. "First, any questions on the containment amendment proposal?
   "I know it's a lot to ask of you," Jim said, "but can you simplify the action of the containment amendment to its most-basic effect?"
   "I thought my horse and corral analogy would do the trick, but let me see if I can give you a single sentence," Will answered. After a few moments, he said, "I have it.
   "Containment would create the condition which people who know about Clause 17 presume already exists, but doesn't-it would finally contain exclusive legislative laws to exclusive legislation lands and prevent exclusive legislation from ever affecting the States, even indirectly."
   "Actually, that is pretty good," Jim said.
   "Well, I am either a master teacher, which I highly doubt, or I have confused you past the point of no return."
   "There's a third possibility," Mike said.
   "Which is?"
   "We understand what you told us just enough to make us afraid any more information will mess us up."
   Everyone laughed. Mike gave Will a good-natured pat on the shoulder.
   "Okay," Will said, "insults aside (he winked at Mike), we will move on to what I call 'The Happily-Ever-After Amendment.'"
   "This should be good," Jim said.
   "It is." Will took a sip of his water. "Better yet, it's simple and to the point. It ends all the potential confusion about which source of authority a law looks to for support-the authority for the whole U.S. or the authority for D.C.-by altogether ending the rarely-understood alternate authority.
   "After ratification of The Happily-Ever-Amendment, only apple pie would ever again be served federally, never again shoofly pie. The recipe and all the ingredients for shoofly pie will be destroyed and thrown away, forever.
   "All right, let's get started." Will stretched out his neck and dove in.
   "This amendment is easier to follow because it repeals Clause 17 entirely. Consequently, it would repeal all laws based on Clause 17, which is about the 95% of wayward federal action earlier mentioned. This would include all those legislative Acts appearing to be unconstitutional but actually aren't, because Clause 17 allows them, even as they are really only enforceable on and for exclusive legislation lands.
   "When I started speaking with your group the first day, I asked about pet peeves. Things like federal intervention into education, healthcare, bloated federal expenditures were mentioned.
   "Those issues aren't enumerated federal concerns for the whole Union that may be implemented using necessary and proper means, so they are matters otherwise reserved to the States, individually.
   "But, since no State is ever involved in or on exclusive legislation lands, someone must there enact laws as a State would in normal circumstances. Well, the U.S. Constitution designates Congress be given the exclusive legislation authority to exercise the State-like powers in the District Seat and for forts, magazines, arsenals, dock-yards and other needful buildings.
   "Since Clause 17 specifically vests with Congress the exercise of exclusive legislation powers within the District Seat, then no one may ever accurately assert such actions could ever be facially unconstitutional. Clause 17 allows them, as part of the 'all Cases whatsoever' wording, unless Congress is specifically prohibited from performing the designated action, like in the Bill of Rights.
   "Thus, one must narrow one's assertion and assert X, Y, or Z exclusive legislation actions are only unconstitutional 'as applied' beyond exclusive legislation lands, but no one ever argues that.
   "While The Once and For All Amendment of containment would finally contain exclusive legislation actions to exclusive legislation lands, The Happily-Ever-After Amendment would prohibit them from ever being performed in the first place. Since Clause 17 would be repealed, then no longer would there be any alternate authority. Thereafter, there would only be ordinary lands where the governing powers over them would always be divided only into enumerated federal powers and reserved States powers."
   "Which means?"
   "After ratification of The Happily-Ever-After Amendment, there would be no more exclusive legislation powers or exclusive legislation lands.
   "Remember when I said The Once and For All Amendment of containment would create the condition which people who know about Clause 17 naturally presume already exists, but doesn't? Well, The Happily-Ever-After Amendment of repeal would create the condition everyone thinks is already the case, those who don't even realize Clause 17 exists.
   "So boiled down to their most basic effects, The Once and For All Amendment would contain exclusive legislative laws to exclusive legislation lands and prevent exclusive legislation from ever affecting the States, even indirectly.
   "And, The Happily-Ever-After Amendment would divide all governing powers throughout the whole Union only into enumerated federal powers and reserved State powers, period.
   "The bottom line is we currently ignore Clause 17 at our peril, because it allows every power under the sun, except those precious few things expressly prohibited. We have ignored the most powerful clause of the Constitution, bar none, that allows the exercise of inherent power in all cases whatsoever, even as its only supposed to be for designated areas.
   "Besides getting rid of every superfluous and overreaching law, all independent establishments and government corporations-the alphabet soup of our nation-would also disappear, with repeal.  Don't like the EPA, SEC, FTC, CIA, the Social Security Administration, the Federal Reserve System or much of the IRS?  Don't worry, they'd all be gone, with repeal. With containment, of course, they'd finally be contained to D.C., but otherwise still allowed.
   "Since most everything would be lopped off in one fell swoop with repeal, maybe repeal is even too harsh-too drastic-but isn't it great to have an option that would work too well, at least in the short-term, until the States stepped up and took over any needed services the feds could no longer offer, at least the ones the U.S. Constitution didn't already prohibit to the States?
   "Members of Congress won't like repeal. Of course, federal officials in the executive and judicial branches would hate repeal, because most of them would be out of a job. No federal servant will want this particular arrow plucked from the quiver of available power.
   "It's not like they will necessarily have a choice in the matter if we expose their false rule adequately, though. Remember, federal servants are not the political masters everyone falsely thinks them to be. 
   "But, I think it is important to give them an 'out'-an option members of Congress may choose quickly in an effort to prevent the nuclear option through a Convention of States.
   "Though the analogy may be a little flawed, containment is sort of like a credit card with an allowance for some discretionary spending, while their normal credit card may only be used for prescribed purchases. Repeal would take away the alternate card and cut it into itty, bitty pieces. If members are wise, they'll want to keep the alternate credit card even as it only now has a low spending limit, rather than lose it altogether and have only their primary card."
   Will sat back. Neither of the other two men spoke for a while as they absorbed the information. Finally, after a few moments, Jim stood up.
   "Something's bothering me," he said.
   "Well, a lot of things should be bothering you," Will said, "but I sense it is something specific."
   Jim clasped his hand behind his back and walked to the window. He gazed at the cityscape. "Beautiful, isn't it. Impressive. D.C. is the greatest homefield advantage in the modern world."
   "I agree," Will said. "Although some would probably argue the greatest homefield advantage was New York City. What's eating you?"
   "I don't mean to sound dense," Jim said, "but all this Clause 17 stuff baffles me a little and I don't think either of us (he jerked his thumb at Mike) knows how best to explain to the average Joe why we should make the effort to contain the ill effects from this clause or repeal it entirely.
   "After all, these cures won't even make sense initially to people otherwise knowledgeable in the Constitution, until we go through a whole lot of explaining, which seems to be the inherent weakness of your underlying strategy. We will likely find a great deal of resistance until we can get enough people to expend the effort needed to understand its brilliance."
   Mike raised his hand like a shy third grader who needed to use the restroom. "Gotta admit, I'm a little baffled as well on how to explain in a few minutes what you've spent days teaching us. We're not exactly dense, and it has taken extensive instruction, going on four days now, to get us to understand what I'm sure is just the bare-bone basics of it. How do we simplify it to the attention span of today's busy adult, who knows next to nothing about the Constitution?"
   Will scratched at his cheek with the back of his hand for a minute. Jim and Mike left him alone, the "wilderness Constitutional expert" searching for a way to reduce a complicated issue to comprehensible terms, something he hadn't been able to do in thirty years of trying.
   "Ah, the multi-trillion-dollar question," he said after a while, "which has proved beyond my reach. Now you know why I am here, speaking to you two men. I'm hoping you'll discover the answer.
   "I have spent my life trying to answer the inevitable questions the most knowledgeable of open-minded skeptics could ask. I really don't know how to reach the least knowledgeable, who may pay attention only for a few minutes. But, the good thing is we don't necessarily need to train a lot more doctors, only inform a lot more patients. We needn't be so intricate with patients. But, as they get sicker, more and more patients are going to be searching for how to heal themselves. You may have to wait until people feel more pain and discomfort, to make them willing to listen and make necessary adjustments. Just keep plugging along, and get out the message, to whomever will listen, has been my motto.
   "We're now seeing the reason our political opponents have long sought to dumb down society-which is to keep it in chains."
§§
   Jim laced his fingers behind his head again as he traced a thought running through his head. Mike rested his elbow on his knees. Both men diligently sought to absorb the implications of Will's day-long lectures.
    Will sat back. Jim looked at Mike. Mike looked at Will.
   "I guess two serious questions remain," Jim said.
   "Which are?"
   "One. It still seems we must still propose and ratify one of two alternate amendments to apply the cure. But, it is a pretty tough process to ratify them. Some 11,700 amendments have been attempted, but only 27 have been ratified."
   "No, we don't have to ratify any amendments," Will answered, "even as it is admittedly difficult to do, thankfully. The acknowledged difficulty in proposing and ratifying amendments has kept the Constitution largely intact with precious few changes for 232 years.
   "It may be difficult to fathom just how important is the fact that our founding document is nearly unchanged, without centuries of errors screwing it up beyond correction now.
   "Every other instance of 'apparent change' outside of ratified amendments is but an action performed by members of Congress and federal officials within their discretion that is directly applicable only in exclusive legislation areas.
   "All those false appearances are only legal mirages offering only the color of law, not the law, itself. We remove the false color by openly challenging it. We may permanently corral this tyranny by containment, or sweep it away, with repeal. But, we can still throw off their artificial binding even without an amendment."
   "How?" Jim asked.
   "Do you think after Toto pulled back the curtain to expose the man pulling the levers of the magical image that Dorothy, the Scare Crow, and the Cowardly Lion could any longer ever believe the Wizard had truly-magical powers? Do you think they believed he was anything other than a devious conman, after they realized what they really faced?
   "Once the cat is out of the bag, there's no going back to a fictitious belief. We simply inform the residents of Oz what's what.
   "Truth confirms itself at every point, building confidence in people who finally begin to understand what they face without nonsensical confusion throwing them for a loop every step of the way.
   "We need to provide the basic outline of the structure we face so people can begin to piece together what is currently jumbled in their mind as separate bits and pieces of information.
   "As more and more people throw off their slave mentality, they begin to teach others they meet. In time we will reach a critical mass, and then there will be no stopping it, even without having to ratify an amendment.
   "Truth adequately disseminated rectifies all lies, especially once even a single State starts getting behind it.
   "Remember, the federal government is falsely denying the States their true and proper legal due without any real ability for the feds to enforce it. The States are free to exercise their reserved powers within their borders without federal interference. Once a willing State figures out what is going on and finally responds accordingly, it will change the game.
   "Sure, the State will have to give up some fictitious revenue-sharing schemes, but those are based upon invalid federal collections in the first place.
   "At some point, sharing plundered loot loses its luster, once people realize how all those funds are being illegitimately collected. People currently being forced to become either a master or slave will increasingly choose to opt out of the cruel dichotomy, so they may be free of both horrid options.
   "Getting even one State-even the least significant State-to understand this devious mechanism of constitutional bypass will change everything."
   "And, just how, exactly, would one go about fighting this artificial extension of exclusive legislation authority falsely-extended beyond district borders?" Jim asked.
   "Marshall was only bluffing when he inferred Clause 17 congressional actions could bind the States, at will, effectively on anything," Will answered.
   "In truth, Clause 17 largely only *binds* the States to the degree it would allow federal marshals to chase suspects throughout the Union who allegedly broke the congressionally-enacted criminal statutes under Clause 17 on exclusive legislation lands, so marshals could bring their suspects to federal justice, without having to seek extradition through the States.
   "Until Cohens is overturned by the Supreme Court-or by an amendment of containment or repeal-it would be the duty of each defendant faced with artificially-extended federal confrontation to argue their case in federal court using an appropriate defense-that of a lack of jurisdiction. I'm not giving legal advice, but educating people broadly of underlying parameters, that federal exclusive legislation does not reach people in the States, who aren't stepping onto exclusive federal enclaves.
   "Of course, these people shouldn't otherwise 'volunteer' to that exclusive legislation authority, either, while they remain in the States, seeking unjust entitlements.
   "Our respective amendment proposals, upon ratification, would simply remove all improper federal confrontation and get it all over and done with, once and for all or happily-ever-after.
   "But, if we expose the fraud sufficiently, then even without an amendment, the rogues' devious Constitution-bypass-strategy will work fewer and fewer times in the future as people begin to defend themselves against invalid enforcement in court. Prosecutors will increasingly find their quiver empty of once-effective arrows and juries will increasingly stop going along with the charade of unlimited federal powers."
   "I see the distinct advantages of an amendment," Jim admitted, "to reduce court conflicts to a minimum, and remove the risk of corporate-climbing prosecutors seeking undue advantage over targeted citizens, who would need to spend tens and even hundreds of thousands of dollars on attorney's fees defending themselves in court, risking unjust fines and imprisonment."
   "And, your other question?" Will asked.
   "My other question is how do we draw appropriate attention to the need for our constitutional amendment?"
   "Ultimately, I baited my trap to draw sufficient attention to the only thing that matters so we may then explain it satisfactorily to people with heightened interest," Will said.
   "But, I could really use your help here as my skills do not reach to interacting with people. I just don't seem to play well with others."
   "You mentioned the Happily-Ever-Amendment, nominally through the Convention of States process-I assume because you figure Congress would never voluntarily propose it," Mike said. "I know a lot of people are worried of a runaway convention, and thus they oppose the convention process with every fiber of their being. Does the Convention process scare you?"
   "At present, when no one understands my work, I am not a Convention proponent," Will answered, "but that is because I'm not an amendment proponent, until we adequately disseminate far and wide the diagnosis and cure of the single political problem we face federally.
   "We cannot correct matters by chasing symptoms, even if we chase those symptoms by proposing and ratifying a new amendment.
   "In the best-case scenario-without identifying the single political problem we face federally and responding accordingly-any new amendment would only add more rules that would be bypassed as the remainder of the Constitution is currently bypassed.
   "Any new amendment not directed at the root of our single political problem may itself be turned on its head, possibly making matters worse, just like other clauses of the already-ratified Constitution are already being misconstrued.
   "For instance, a Balanced Budget Amendment would undoubtedly be transformed into a federal mandate to increase taxes, because spending and revenue under the ratified amendment would only need to match. Since there would be no requirement to lower expenses [to match low revenues that were never actually required], the budget could instead be balanced by raising revenue-by raising taxes.
   "Or the Congressional Term Limits proposal would simply increase federal tyranny, as more and more federal action was removed from the hands of Congress, and placed beyond voter control, into executive or judicial hands.
   "Indeed, without first restricting the executive and judicial branches, any power removed from legislators would in the resulting political vacuum be taken up by executive or judicial officials, not simply evaporating into the ether as term limit proponents presume.
   "We cannot cure the disease by chasing symptoms or ignoring the underlying problem.
   "The Convention process-absent a full understanding of what we face-would be even more dangerous than an ordinary amendment proposal simply because a convention may propose multiple amendments, all at once.
   "Seeking any amendment isn't the end-it is only a possible means to an end. And, that end is not necessarily good just because it is an amendment-it could also be a possible means to a horrid end, even making matters worse, even much worse.
   "We don't pursue amendments first, but last. First, we disseminate knowledge. Then, we worry about an amendment. We don't worry about pursuing an amendment until we get more people to understand what we truly face and why a specific amendment proposal would be beneficial.
   "If we get Americans up to speed on Hamilton's devious Constitution-bypass mechanism, then the people who would meet in a Convention could seek the true cure, properly.
   "Once this information reached widespread dissemination, then I wouldn't fear a Convention. But, until then, I guess I do.
   "The only reason all is not already lost is because the Constitution is largely intact, without many changes that would prevent us from easily curing now what ails us.
   "We don't want to attempt any constitutional changes until those most influential with the process of proposing amendments come to grips knowing how we've already been led so far astray."
   Will wound down his intensive lecture series with his two remaining pupils. Jim and Mike knew largely what they really needed to know to begin getting their staff up to speed.
   "Alright, I owe you two a hot dog, since you stayed through my whole explanation," Will said. "Let's go eat. I know just the place-and it has great peanut butter and hot fudge milkshakes."
   If they hadn't been so pressed for time due to a pending vote before Congress, Will would have liked to go into the origin of the phrase "in all Cases whatsoever"-first found in the 1766 British Declaratory Act. Great Britain there had claimed the bold power to "bind" the American colonies "in all cases whatsoever," without the colonists' consent and against their will. This was the single issue the American colonists fought politically for a turbulent decade before the shooting began. This primary issue-expressly raised and specifically mentioned in the American Declaration of Independence (although there inadequately emphasized)-was the root cause of all the other complaints therein listed, that were but ramifications of this fundamental British mindset that were carried out in a multitude of differing ways.
   Will would have also liked to go into Alexander Hamilton's 1791 banking bill, where Hamilton first exploited the exclusive legislation authority even before the District Seat was created; 1803 Marbury v. Madison, where Chief Justice John Marshall used the Clause 17 exclusive legislation power to propose Judicial Review in the case brought by Marbury, who sought his commission to be a Justice of the Peace for the District of Columbia, under the Organic Act for the District of Columbia, that was enacted on February 27, 1801 (thereby restricting Judicial Review to exclusive legislation areas); 1819 McCulloch v. Maryland, where Marshall followed Hamilton's earlier lead using Clause 17 for the 1791 first bank of the United States, with the 1816 second bank; and 1821 Cohens v. Virginia, where Marshall secured Hamilton's bypass strategy into official court legend, with his simple statement:
The clause which gives exclusive jurisdiction is, unquestionably, a part of the Constitution, and, as such, binds all the United States.
   Of course, if they had time, it would have also been helpful to go into one of the many possible rabbit holes and follow the transformative actions of Congress and the courts on single issue, to show how evildoers used their exclusive legislation authority to expand its unlimited powers throughout the Union.
   Because, after all, proving true a general concept in a specific case clarifies the evil practice in ways discussing general theories couldn't.
   And, the topic Will preferred most often to investigate in great depth, dealt with the clever conversion from the gold and silver coin authorized by the Constitution to the paper currency first implemented in 1862, even as paper was made a tender only for the District Seat. After all, only "States" were expressly prohibited by Article I, Section 10 from emitting "Bills of Credit" and "making any Thing but gold and silver Coin a Tender in Payment of Debts," but the "District" is not a "State," so this express prohibition does not affect Congress legislating exclusively for the District Seat. 
   Since members of Congress may in the District Seat do anything and everything other than those few things expressly prohibited them, then members of Congress under Clause 17 could emit bills of credit and there call them a legal tender, because members weren't there expressly forbidden. This was how the Supreme Court was able to uphold legal tender paper currencies in 1871 and 1884 as Will's work showed in mind-numbing detail.
   But, since time was of the essence, such matters would have to be left out of the current curriculum.
   Jim and Mike began to bring the remainder of the staff up to speed on Friday, May 28th. They went through the biggest issues first, without going into too great of depth on the finer points, until the staff could create a mental structure into which they could place their new thoughts.
   While Mike continued to work with the American Jurisprudence Center staff for a few more days, Jim began on Monday reaching out to his network of contacts, to begin recruiting them in a joint effort to spring the trap.
   Without great surprise, Jim and Mike would find their best help in simplifying the message not from white-matter think tanks, the ivory towers of law, government or education, but from the popular airwaves-from the people who were used to talking almost exclusively with everyday Americans.
   The vital work of these newest interpreters would simplify the complex legal arguments into simple, everyday examples the common man or woman could understand.
Chapter 29
   When Congress set the vote for the legislative bill to choose a new date for federal elections for Thursday, June 17th, members set in stone the deadline for the American Jurisprudence Center and its recruited team members to act.
   Figuring they needed at least several days after their planned "National Wave of Outrage" before the vote, Jim and Mike picked Monday, June 14th as the launch date for springing the trap.
   Springing the trap began when a nationally syndicated conservative radio host opened his show, the highest rated broadcast in the country, with a surprise announcement.
   Emerson Nester agreed with Jim that they needed to create the biggest initial bang possible, so she gave up her favored position of being the first to break the news, to a radio personality who had an extremely large nationwide following. She would air a television expose later that same day.
   The host began his show, saying..."Happy Flag Day, listeners. Today, I have a special guest. You know her as someone with whom I disagree on almost everything up to and including what to put on French toast. Only a total Communist sympathizer uses powdered sugar. I believe the Lord God Himself declared we should use only American-harvested maple syrup. If my guest were to tell me the sun would rise in the east tomorrow, my first thought would be she must surely be mistaken. But today, we join forces, to save America. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I welcome to this broadcast, the darling of the leftist media, Lydia Montegue."
   No doubt, there was not an available chiropractic appointment anywhere in America later in the day as millions of heads snapped to attention. There was a collective national "Huh?" as Lydia Montegue joined forces with Nathaniel "Napalm" Nettleton at the start of a radio show destined to commence the Second American Revolution if tyrants refused to concede their false power.
   Taking turns, the two iconic media personalities began their joint program prepared with the aid of Jim Connery and Mike Sterling who'd used their considerable contacts inside the Beltway to covertly get out the truth to well-placed media personalities for a joint release of the information on Flag Day. Montegue was the greatest calculated risk, but Nettleton had proceeded cautiously with her for nearly a week and felt the hazard was justified, to show it wasn't necessarily a left-vs-right issue, but one pitting tyranny against freedom and tyrant against citizen.
   "Thank you, Napalm," Lydia said, "for inviting me on this special show that we will co-host, commercial-free, because of its importance. Napalm and I are sharing all expenses relating to this important broadcast normally covered by advertisers, so we can bring you this important information without interruption.
   "Please start us off, Napalm, since you trusted me enough to invite me even as we normally compete for this time slot."
   "Thank you, Lydia," Nettleton began. "Over the past month or so, a buzz has been growing in Washington D.C. about a proposal called The Political Year Strategy. I know my listeners have heard of it, because I've railed against it repeatedly, reaching my largest number of listeners ever, two weeks ago, on the treacherous topic.
   "The shady strategy suggests members of Congress use their named authority to move Election Day, to a new date-February 29th-Leap Year Day.
   "By changing the Election Date to February 29th, the strategy contends Congress could simultaneously adopt the concept of a 'Political Year'-in effect a 'Leap Year' in length-to quadruple the length of federal elective terms. The legislative Act currently being debated and soon voted on by Congress would define a 'Political Year' for federal elective purposes and federal elective term lengths to be the interval of time between the date chosen for federal elections until the specified date again came up on the calendar.
   "A single congressional term for U.S. Representatives of two years would thereafter be two 'Political Years'-which by redefinition becomes two Leap Years, or eight calendar years long. Presidential four-year terms would become 16 calendar years and U.S. Senators' six-year terms would become a 24-calendar year run. The concept has been publicly decried by the leaders of both parties and the President, which all but proves that we are being snookered."
   Montegue took over. "Confirmed by our highly placed, credible sources, both on Capitol Hill and in the White House, working both independently and in concert, Napalm and I have discovered these public protestations are only a ruse intended to lull the American people into a sense of complacency. Instead, both parties have designed a clever scheme whereby the leadership will vote against the measure for show while strong-arming the rank-and-file members of their respective caucuses to support it privately.
   "Of course, we're not even sure rank-and-file members would need strong arming, mind you, to vote in favor of something so beneficial to each of them. Our counts-again, individually ascertained-tell us at least 75% of each House will vote to adopt this dangerous infringement on the liberty of the American people."
   Nettleton seized the moment. The two personalities had carefully choreographed the presentation for maximum effect. They felt if either one spoke too long, the followers of the other would tune out. But if they played verbal ping pong, listeners would soon understand the vital nature of the broadcast and hang on every word.
   "Our federal custodians already know all this because this is what they have agreed to implement, even though publicly, the most vocal say they are against it.
   "But, what those scoundrels don't know-which we are thrilled to inform them-is that the author of The Political Year Strategy implemented his strategy to create a spider web of his own to catch the devious arachnids who have long spun their web of lies to devour our freedom, so they stop draining our lifeblood.
   "Will Hartline merely used as bait the promise of extended elective terms," Nettleton said, with as much satisfaction as he had ever enjoyed in his public life, "and then took to its illogical extreme, the absurd 200-year-old lie, that federal servants may change their powers simply by changing the meaning of words and phrases found in the U.S. Constitution."
   Lydia made the intended segway into their simplified explanation, so even the least-informed listeners could hopefully follow the villains' multi-generational plan. "You grew up in a home with rules, right, Napalm?" 
   Napalm doubled over with laughter. "You don't know the half of it," he said. "I was five minutes late for curfew the first night I was able to drive. My mom grounded me for a week, then shortened my curfew by thirty minutes until, in her words, 'You demonstrate the maturity of following the guidelines of conduct expected of a member of this household.'"
   "Ouch!" Lydia said. "And I thought my parents were tough.
   "Okay, you and I both had rules to follow when we were growing up. And, when our friends came over, they quickly learned the standards and practices they had to follow in our homes if they ever wanted to come back, isn't that right?"
   "Yes, indeed," Napalm said.
   "Out of curiosity, Napalm, what would have happened if one of your parents-say your mother-went across the street and started telling your best friend's folks how to run their home, what television shows they could watch, what time their kids needed to go to bed?"
   "Wouldn't have gone over very well," Napalm answered. "My friend's parents were pretty independent, and they were quite used to making such decisions all on their own, without some two-bit totalitarian nanny seeking to direct them otherwise."
   "Mine either," Lydia said. "Even as my best friend's parents were late-blooming hippies, some of which rubbed off on their daughter, who, in turn, rubbed off on me."
   "So, that's where you get it," Napalm said. "I've heard your parents were fairly conservative. I was wondering what happened to you."
   "Guilty as charged," Lydia admitted with a laugh. "But, my friend, and her aging parents, are still some of the nicest people you'd ever care to meet, just to let you know.
   "Okay, Napalm, let's get back to our story. Say your mom still isn't satisfied, so she goes all over the neighborhood to enforce her rules at every house."
   "People would think she was nuts," Napalm said.
   "But then, to everyone's surprise, she somehow convinces the police to visit every wayward house to implement her reign of terror," Lydia said.
   "That would never happen," Napalm said. "Absolutely insane-impossible."
   "Is it?" Lydia asked. "I know this seems like a ludicrous scenario, but, for the most part, this has already been happening, throughout our whole country, for two hundred years.
   "Simply put, the rules intended for one 'household'-the District of Columbia, in real life-have been implemented and enforced in every other 'household'-the States, in this neighborhood we call a country.
   "So, Congress begins to enforce D.C.-based rules in each State, even on topics the U.S. Constitution otherwise reserves to the States, individually. This is exactly like your mom seeking to enforce her rules in every other house. To use your words, Napalm, the situation is 'insane.'
   "The States-the households-tried to stop the nanny state from ruling over them, but they lost at every turn, for hundreds of years now. The parents in these other households-the legislators in the States-could never figure out how your mom-nanny-federal officials-won every significant point in court.
   "The U.S. Constitution was meant to operate within a defined sphere of influence, while allowing each of the States to make up their own minds and establish their own rules, individually on everything else the Constitution reserves to the individual States, themselves, just like the homes in the neighborhood."
   "But it never could really happen in a real neighborhood, right?" Napalm asked.
   "Are you so sure, Napalm?" Lydia asked. "Let me bring 'home' this example, to show you how it is being done, still, in our neighborhood.
   "Have you ever lived in a neighborhood with a Homeowner's Association with strict Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions?"
   "Yes, but that's different," Napalm protested. "The homeowners get to read the C.C. & R.s up front, before they purchase their home. My mom couldn't be arbitrary, and come up with unending new restrictions and enforce them on her neighbors, all on her own."
   "Are you sure?" Lydia asked. "Our Constitution is just like our nation's homeowner association's set of bylaws and C.C. & R.s.
   "The Covenants, Conditions and Restrictions, of course, set routine allowable parameters for the whole neighborhood while largely leaving it up to the individual homeowners to rule within their houses on everything else. That is just like the States and the U.S. Constitution. The C.C. & R.s-the Constitution-also gives some powers to the enforcement arm, for settling disputes, between homeowners and between homeowners and the association.
   "What you're not realizing, Napalm, is our homeowner association also has some unique places where the rules and rulemaking are different. You need to realize homeowner associations often own common areas and planter strips to beautify the neighborhood, and occasionally even more elaborate common areas, like club halls and pools.
   "Now, for these association-owned areas, the association's board gets to make all the rules, because the C.C. & R.s expressly specifies this for the common areas that aren't owned by private individuals. So, no private landowner ever gets to make the rules for the common areas such as they would on their own land.
   "The association board gets to work from a blank slate on these association-owned lands, and they may also modify these special rules, at will, without input from the households, who have no specific input here beyond electing board members.
   "All your devious mom did was simply extend the homeowner association's unlimited authority over its common areas over the whole neighborhood without telling anyone what she was doing, so no one could easily stop her reign of terror.
   "Instead, publicly she feigned she had the impressive power to redefine the meanings of the words found in the Covenants, Conditions & Restrictions, at will, to offer up an adequate diversion to keep everyone from easily figuring out her true source of unfathomable power.
   "As the association's president, she merely pushed her plan into action, step-by-incremental-step, with the help from other board members who had similar desires, or had found enough dirt on the holdouts, to keep the majority of the board making steady progress towards implementing her devious plan.
   "And, after a while, new board members came on who simply followed their predecessors' tactics without even realizing how they were able to succeed doing what should be impossible for them to do."
   "I think we should have used your mother in this example," Napalm protested, who couldn't hear the heartfelt laugh of his listeners. "Seriously, though, the courts would never go for it-surely they would protect the homeowners."
   "They invariably would if they got to share in the power and in the largesse like they do in real life," Lydia responded. "But, let's bring our example a little closer to reality-ignore our real courts in our made-up analogy. Because, remember, in our analogy, the homeowner association represents the federal government, so there wouldn't yet be another court of higher authority.
   "In our story, the highest judicial body is the homeowner association's mediation board. But, the members of the mediation board are hired for life by the homeowner's association, with cushy jobs carrying a great amount of prestige the mediators wouldn't want to jeopardize.
   "Indeed, just how many mediators would it really take if there weren't a great amount of controversy for them to work through on an ever-escalating basis? Most of them would be let go for lack of work. Turmoil and controversy are money in the bank for them, giving them a life of comfort and prestige. If they spilled the beans to restore justice, they'd have to get real jobs-potentially even harsh, dirty jobs, like maybe cleaning the storm drains or sewer lines. No, it's far more beneficial to them if they simply continue to play their game of make-believe rule."
   "Absolutely great analogy, Lydia," Napalm said. "It really simplifies the scoundrels' devilish plan, helping people understand how political servants ever became our political masters.
   "I hope our listeners are beginning to understand how we've all been snookered by crooks and cheats, who lie, steal and trick their way to absolute power. We must focus all our attention on the root cause of the single political problem we face.
   "Remember, the oath federal caretakers take to support the Constitution signifies their actual subservience to it. This means they are powerless to change the Constitution they swear to support.
   "Instead, they may act with inherent discretion only where the Constitution allows, which is for federal exclusive legislation areas like the District of Columbia. Only on the homeowner association's own land may servants act like masters. With respect to private lots, the association board members necessarily remain subservient."
   "We owe a huge debt of thanks to Will Hartline," Lydia said, "who figured out taking these absurd claims too far best exposes their impotent claims of omnipotence.
   "Hartline figured, what better test was there than taking a well-understood term-'Year,' in this case-and devising a seemingly-rational explanation for changing it, just like all the other words lied about. It was only necessary to find a word and purpose the Constitution wouldn't allow to be redefined for the District Seat. While "Year" could be defined differently in the District Seat for other purposes, it couldn't be redefined for election intervals and term lengths, because the U.S. Constitution sets that meaning for the whole Union, for those specific purposes, as part of the apple pie recipe and ingredients.
   "These tyrants so believed their own lies they honestly thought they could extend their lies indefinitely without ever revealing a significant defect in their longstanding bluff.
   "Well, today-Flag Day-Napalm and I, and a host of others, are calling their bluff. Our federal servants are not political masters in our neighborhood. Today, we begin the process of throwing off their false rule.
   "We don't need violence to end their lies-for lies are best ended by full and open exposure. Indeed, wherever violence breaks out, ideas retreat to the background. This is time for bringing ideas to the forefront. In the battlefield of ideas, words matter most.
   "A bullet cannot kill a lie, but a word of truth may. Truth, adequately exposed, is the silver bullet which ends the false rule of paper tyrants."
   A few listeners thought to themselves-but bullets may kill liars-but thankfully, they didn't have the microphone. After all, a discredited paper tyrant was so much better than a dead one, because if the individual tyrant was destroyed but his seat remained, another tyrant would invariably fill the seat in the resulting political vacuum.
   "Individual tyrants need not be rotated out until we find a benevolent dictator-instead, we must necessarily eliminate the tyrant's seat itself," Lydia said. "And this is best done by showing their false rule, such that no such seat should ever exist, certainly not in these United States of America."
   "Lydia and I apologize if the remainder of our combined show today gets a little complicated," Napalm said. "Keep in mind our story about the homeowner's association-remember the board cannot extend the rules made for the common areas over the individual houses except by tricking homeowners.
   "Realizing how evildoers have been able to pull off their spectacular political coup stands at the foundation of reclaiming our individual rights and limited federal powers."
   As promised, Napalm and Lydia continued their whole show commercial free. The two radio personalities were growing increasingly fatigued by their intense radio show, only getting short bathroom breaks while the other kept the show going.
   After their third hour of discussion, Lydia began winding down their exhausting show.
   "This is our time, America, to reclaim individual liberty and limited government. It is important to learn about the long-term plan to takeover American government by our custodians, who work tirelessly only to feather their own nests.
   "Tell everyone you know what is really going on. And then tell these lying crooks that their false reign of terror is over and we're not going to stand for it one moment longer.
   "We have been lied to by everyone in politics, in education, and in the halls of justice-or those people simply haven't been sufficiently honest with themselves, to investigate matters satisfactorily. This is not about political party-this is not about Traditionalists or Unionists-this is not even about liberal or conservative beliefs, or any personal beliefs or individual differences that seemingly divide the nation.
   "We have witnessed the false imposition of an unchecked power to enslave us. We must rise above party and act as Americans who care about liberty and the freedom to be who we want to be, rather than tricked into warring against one another so we may all be conquered."
   Napalm put his hand to the microphone suspended in front of him. The radio show was being livestreamed on every available social media platform. Nettleton asked, "Lydia, tell us what else we should do." 
   In a dramatic move, he swung the microphone over to her side. They'd performed the same move for nearly three hours. Although Lydia could have simply used the guest microphone, Napalm had thought it appropriate to symbolically transfer his soapbox to her, as an appreciated gesture of cooperation and good will.
   "Thank you, Napalm," Lydia said. "As you so eloquently said, it's time for people to become enraged and not take the false rule of paper tyrants one moment longer. Withdraw your support from the corrupted system. But there's something else.
   "The ultimate answer is one of two constitutional amendments. You can request complete information at my website, or Napalm's.
   She pushed the mic through the air. 
   Nettleton said. "Let me tell you about the first amendment proposal."
   It was a verbal ballet now-two professionals at the top of their game-working in concert. They were like players in an All-Star game...unfamiliar with the other's moves, but so totally adept in the field they could sense what the other was about to do. Nettleton pitched The Once and For All Amendment.
   The gator arm mic stand swung again, this time to Lydia.
   "That's right, Napalm," she said. "It ought to tell Americans something when you and I finally agree on something. If we continue to allow federal caretakers their nearly unlimited rule for the District Seat, we'll say okay, but from now on, it is going to be absolutely contained to the neighborhood association's common areas.
   "But, if members of Congress don't do the right thing and quickly propose our amendment of containment, we'll bring in the wrecking ball and make them wish they had. 
   "We'll smash the association buildings to smithereens, and perhaps even sell them off, if need be. We call the wrecking ball, The Happily-Ever-After Amendment.
   "Simultaneous with our show today, reporters, talk show hosts, think tanks, historians, constitutionalists, bloggers, and numerous other patriots are releasing their own work on this topic, in concert with ours.
   "Napalm and I would also like to especially thank television reporter Emerson Nester of WTVQ in Washington, D.C., for putting us in touch with Jim Connery of the American Jurisprudence Center, who provided us with the background on this fascinating story.
   "For those of you who want all the legal background regarding what we have long faced-please go to the American Jurisprudence Center's website, the link which may be found at our respective websites.
   "There, you'll find more information about it than you'd ever care to learn.
   "We wish to thank Jim Connery and Mike Sterling for their invaluable insights exposing two centuries of legal deception to the bright light of day. 
   "And, for those of you desiring to watch a televised expose, please watch Ms. Nester's special presentation reportedly scheduled to air tonight at 6:00 PM.
   "Ms. Nester has been in contact with Will Hartline before he even came up with his Political Year Strategy, and she helped him implement his brilliant trap."
   Both hosts were in their element using their God-given gifts of persuasion. Lydia had the penultimate word.
   "Our proposed amendment resolutions, of course, are single shot items-like a sniper bullet, not a shotgun blast. There is no appended resolution funding bonsai trees or subsidies for the study of ant farms. There's no military spending...nothing for education...there is nothing there except the bare bones, the way all legislation ought to be."
   She took a breath and paused. Now or never, she thought.
   "There's one more thing you can do. Go to our website, and read our petition to join our battle by signing your name pledging to be a part of the cure.
   "The websites mentioned today on our show contain a petition-it's basically a modern-day version of the Declaration of Independence-updated to redress our grave grievances.
   "Who here today-if they had the opportunity to sign our Declaration of Independence when the Founders ascribed their names back in 1776-wouldn't have wanted to add in their name?
   Lydia looked over at Napalm who nodded his approval as he said, "Well, listeners, The Patriot Corps Pledge is essentially the modern-day equivalent of our 1776 Declaration.
   "Our Founders mutually pledged their lives, fortunes, and sacred honor to throw off the British overlords, who had shockingly declared the absolute power to bind the American colonists "in all cases whatsoever," without the colonies' consent and against the colonists' will, over every square foot of American soil.
   "After ten long years of patiently trying to dissuade Great Britain from enforcing her declaration of tyranny, we finally revolted by giving them a Declaration of our own.
   "But, after we won our freedom, the Framers of our Constitution later invited this absolute power back into this country, but only for the District Seat and other exclusive legislation lands. This was done so the weak Congress and infant U.S. Government couldn't be bullied by all-powerful States on a home turf, so federal custodians would have the association's common area to themselves, without State interference.
   "But, since it would have been improper to list-within the U.S. Constitution-an extensive State-like Constitution only for exclusive legislation areas like the District Seat, members of Congress were simply allowed the authoritative power to exercise exclusive legislation authority in these special areas 'in all Cases whatsoever,' where members could make up their own rules there as they went along.
   "Those who ratified the Constitution never intended to let loose this tyranny throughout the land, to bind us and all the States in all cases whatsoever, everywhere. But, devious politicians who yearned to exercise this awesome power everywhere quickly realized-or perhaps even planned from the start-that they could deviously extend this incredible power over the whole country so they could act like gods, if they simply kept their tactics to themselves and then muddied the waters with lies sufficient to cover their tracks.
   "But, we know there is only One True God, and He gave us freedom, not tyranny.
    "Experience has taught us this unfathomable power cannot ever be entrusted to mortal man, who invariable seek to act as gods to rule untouchably from on high, everywhere.
   "What was instituted to protect the infant federal State has ironically allowed that same government to grow into a ravenous feral monster, which consumes everything in its path.
   "So, let's finally finish the job, and either contain that inherent power absolutely to the District Seat-as it should have been specifically restrained from the onset-or repeal its use, everywhere.
   "The federal government no longer needs special protection from the States. It has all the power it needs to protect itself.
   "If you are willing to sign your name to The Patriot Corps Pledge, you become entitled to become a Patriot Corps member if you wish. For a nominal fee-about the cost of several cups of coffee a month-you may help support the efforts of like-minded Americans who vow to do as they are able, within lawful means and within their ability, to restore our American Republic.
   "Of course, more than your money, we need your help-your efforts-to help spread the message. The Patriot Corps can help educate you, if you avail yourself to its study materials. You may even elect to become a Patriot Corps Recruiter, and help lead the battle forward, recruiting other members and teaching them the way forward, after you learn the ropes.
   "Membership allows you to join forces with others of like mind to best learn how to carry this important work into the future. Becoming a Founding Member also gets you your own personalized copy of The Patriot Corps Pledge, suitable for framing, presuming you are willing to provide your contact information so it may be sent to you. Visit www.PatriotCorps.org for more details."
   She pushed the mic across the expanse. "Take us home, my friend."
   Nettleton smiled at the "friend" comment. In full-throated, patriotic fervor, he closed the broadcast. 
   "This is Napalm Nettleton with his one-time co-host, Lydia Montegue, signing off. Have a great day, patriots, and God Bless America."
   The two celebrities paused for the "all clear." 
   "And we're out," the producer said. "Great job!"
   Nettleton nodded to Montegue, who returned the gesture, along with a smile worthy of the Cheshire Cat.
   "I guess now we go back to hating each other," she said, unable yet to commit to a full comradery.
   "We could, it is true," Nettleton said. "We could, however-by God's grace-keep working together to make this country what it was always supposed to be."
§§
   Nettleton looked at his computer screen, which had upon it, The Patriot Corps Pledge To Restore Our American Republic. 
   Four hundred and twelve people had already signed it, and dozens more were being added every few seconds.


	

The Patriot Corps Pledge 
To Restore Our American Republic
    
Whereas, in their 1766 Declaratory Act, the British Government claimed the absolute Power to bind the American Colonies "in all cases whatsoever," without their consent and against their will; Whereas, Patriotic Americans in our 1776 Declaration of Independence mutually pledged their Lives, their Fortunes, and their Sacred Honor in bold Defiance against such Tyranny; and Whereas,  Government servants today deceptively extend their delegated Power to act "in all Cases whatsoever" for the District Seat instead beyond the District's borders; Therefore, We the undersigned Patriots, in order to Restore our Republic, Reclaim precious Liberty, and Retrieve lost Justice, continue to seek lawful Remedy from this wholly-inappropriate Power which has deceptively been substituted for our Republican Form of Government guaranteed each State under Article IV, Section 4 of the U.S. Constitution.
Over succeeding Generations, Government Servants have again:
- 
- Endeavored to become our political Masters, by enlarging the Sphere of their Influence to extend their Positions of Power;
- Ignored our Pleas, violated their sacred Oaths, and think Themselves above the Law, becoming the principal Threat to our Rights and greatest Danger to our Property;
- Striven to circumvent their only legitimate Source of Authority, the whole of the Constitution for the United States of America, founded upon the Ideals declared in our Declaration of Independence;
- Sought to diminish our Republican Form of Government, by delegating legislative Authority to unelected Officials who promulgate Regulations without fair Recourse at the ballot Box;
- All but abolished our lawful Money of Gold and Silver Coin and flooded the Country with an irredeemable Currency which confiscates productive Capital, impoverishes independent Citizens and enslaves our Young;
- Borrowed Money at levels unprecedented in our History and unsustainable for our Future;
- Sought to disarm free Citizens, as if America's greatest Resource, her People and their love of Liberty, was her greatest Liability;
- Acted against the long-term Interests of our Country, by sacrificing our Sovereignty to foreign Powers who have anything but our best Interests at Heart;
- Threatened our Industries, driving them from our Shores with oppressive Taxation, repressive Regulation and destructive Litigation; 
- Impaired the Autonomy of our States, by improperly restricting their reserved Powers;
- Instituted Policies said to benefit the environment, which surreptitiously diminish the Right to Private Property while enabling Government to control it absolutely;
- Abused Eminent Domain to allow Private Property to be taken for another's personal Benefit, rather than actual public use;
- Tried to re-write our History and destroy our Christian Heritage, by denying its profound Influence and widespread Impact;
- Undermined the Sanctity of Life itself, allowing the continued Destruction of the most Defenseless of innocent Persons who committed no wrong, the unborn Child, while setting the stage to ration care for the Aged and the Infirmed;
- Vilified the domestic Production of Energy, necessary for the advancement of Civilization and reduction of Poverty, while enriching our Enemies who wage War against us;
- Failed to address Immigration Reform, threatening the Rule of Law and restricting the availability of legal Workers;
- Expanded Government into every conceivable aspect of Society such that little is held Sacred from its ever-expanding Reach; and
- Expended massive amounts of government Funds ostensibly to prevent Some from Failing, all but ensuring that few Others will Succeed.
In Support of this Petition, first signed the Fourteenth Day of June, in the Year of Our Lord, Two Thousand and Twenty-One and of the Two Hundred and Forty-Fourth Year of Independence of the United States of America, We solemnly Pledge before God our Honorable Intention to Restore our Republic by all Lawful and Just Means.  
Will Hartline


§§
   "I told you Hartline had something up his sleeve, and couldn't be trusted," Bert Maples said to his immediate boss, Presidential Chief-of-Staff Darrel Atwater.
   "Yes, you did," Atwater admitted. "You certainly did."
   "What do you want me to do now?" Maples asked.
   "Something I don't want to know about," Atwater said before he offered a few more words and then changed the subject. "I'll leave the details up to you-we just want to send the strongest message possible that no one may ever set fire to one of our outbuildings and get away with it, let alone our primary residence, no matter who they think they are."
   "I was thinking about the Hartline logo..." Maples began before catching the sternest of looks imaginable from Atwater. Maples immediately knew he said too much. This was the second time he had made the mistake of saying too much, but this time it was deadly serious.
   He decided then and there he would take on this one last job, and then disappear into some jungle somewhere. Of course, he already had his exit strategy planned out long ago, to be implemented at a moment's notice.
   Bert Maples was well aware in his line of business, there was little margin of error when things turned deadly serious. And too loose of lips were among the worst possible errors. It was never a good idea to vocalize what was understood, in Maples' line of business.
§§
   "What are we going to do about this Hartline character who made us look like fools and threatened our long reign of absolute power?" asked one of the nameless men before the nameless group of the most powerful men and women in the world. These were the people who never kept written records of any meeting on topics such as this, but did as they pleased with a level of impunity mere mortals could not possibly fathom.
   This group controlled whole nations, including the puppets installed in positions of political power that bowed to them in private.
   "The problem has already been taken care of, and appropriate personnel have been dispatched," answered the senior aide to the Most Nameless of All. 
   
   

Chapter 30
   "I'm glad Mike and I talked you into turning your PatriotCorps.org website into a membership business the past week, Will," Jim said. "You just got yourself a whole lot of great publicity this morning-the kind money can't buy.
   "Patriot Corps will give people an avenue they can pursue on their own, not only to educate themselves, but also to have some available tools to help educate and even recruit others."
   "Yes, I like Patriot Corps members being able to support a great cause," Mike said. "I also like that members may even purchase single books at discount, for personal study. Or, if they want to join forces as an independent contractor, they may sell not only printed books, but they may also get a share of all course fees of courses they line up. But, best of all, on all recruited members they personally sign up, patriot recruiters get not only a share of the membership fees, but even get reoccurring income, for membership renewals of their recruits, all while teaching restoration and helping to Restore Our American Republic.
   "Small businesses have always been the backbone of the country, even as so many of them are being increasingly driven from the marketplace by huge corporations which typically don't have the best interests of the country at heart. We needn't let only the huge book resellers get all the business, when we can create an alternative."
   "I still don't think you should necessarily allow free pdf distribution of your work," Jim said. "It weakens your business model."
   "If my primary objective was to make money," Will answered, "I'd probably have to agree with you. But, there's no sense not taking full advantage of electronic distribution that lowers the cost of delivery by orders of magnitude, allowing us to make free Portable Document Files readily available, especially when my primary goal is restoration of individual liberty and limited government.
   "Besides, with our potential market share consisting of hundreds of millions of Americans-I can't help but believe that having a little faith in them won't somehow pay off in droves, at least once we get some traction.
   "I'm more than willing to bet there will be enough people who, after reading the free pdf, will want to buy a physical copy, such that the increased exposure from free pdfs will ultimately increase sales."
   "Why didn't you just go with the non-profit model, then?" asked Jim.
   "First of all, I don't like the connotation that 'non-profit' provides, implying 'profit' is bad in relation. If we didn't have profit-seeking businesses, we'd be thrown back to the stone age, becoming again hunter-gatherers or maybe subsistence farmers at best. A whole lot of people would necessarily die, and I'm not here being overly dramatic-for our political opponents literally sell death at every turn, behind and under every horrid soundbite coming out of their putrid-spewing mouths.
   "Then there's also the legal aspects to worry about, about non-profits being excluded from getting directly involved in political issues. Non-profits must therefore be at least one step removed from being part of the cure.
   "But, mainly, I really like the idea of hundreds, thousands or maybe even tens of thousands of micro-businesses pushing liberty as their product.
   "I'm excited about creating a large number of Patriot Recruiters, who recruit other patriots, to join in the battle. Just as there's the Marine Corps or Peace Corps, there can be a corps of men, women and even children who become the face of the Patriot Corps, even if they may end up having differing levels of intent and commitment.
   "We as a country really need to get off the automated megacorporation kick, and get back to the business model that built this great country, with personalized service delivered by committed and knowledgeable personnel.
   "What better way to restore individual liberty is there, than to give people the means to take political matters back into their own hands, and throw off tyranny that is backing us into a corner?"
   "Wow, Will; I didn't know you had it in you," Mike said, impressed that Will seemed to have a little salesmanship in him, after all. "You would have just got your first Patriot Recruiter signed up, if you hadn't already made me a business partner. I would have otherwise just asked, 'Where do I sign?'"
   The men talked for another few minutes, before Will said, "My main concern-given my past business failures-is that I have a hard time figuring out what people want, even as I think in this case-dealing with tyranny-I understand better than most what they need.
   "I know I will need a whole lot of help setting everything up and getting it running smoothly, because business organization, especially on a large scale, is not my forte. Although I am usually able to implement my personal business objectives, I never seem able to understand my customers well enough to figure out what motivates them. It is a reoccurring problem for me."
   A young woman rushed into Jim's office and turned on the television even as the celebratory party was in full swing in the conference room, celebrating the successful springing of the trap. There was still so much to do, of course, but the path had been laid out, which was cause for celebration enough, when there hadn't really been sufficient cause to rejoice for a very long time.
   "You'll want to see this, Jim; I think you know her," she said.
   Jim scowled. "Who?
   In response, the woman pointed to the photograph on the television screen, where the meticulously coifed anchor in the foreground was employing her "serious and concerned" look. The photograph was of WTVQ's field reporter, Emerson Nester.
   "Repeating our top story," the anchor said, "WTVQ's popular field reporter Emerson Nester, who was tentatively scheduled to air an explosive political expose this evening, is missing. Emerson failed to show up for a meeting with one of our producers this morning after working at the station late last night, reportedly preparing the final touches on tonight's show.
   "Repeated attempts to contact her have been unsuccessful. She is not at her residence. WTVQ has been unable to locate anyone with knowledge of Ms. Nester's whereabouts. While there is some evidence of foul play, police are not disclosing it yet. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Ms. Nester, please contact the number at the bottom of the screen.
   "WTVQ and its owners and producers refuse to let anyone scare us into silence. Therefore, WTVQ will air Ms. Nester's explosive expose even though she isn't able to provide her live commentary. Thankfully, we have her written draft, so special host Nolan Carmichael will stand in her place. Please stay tuned tonight at 6:00 PM to hear the story Emerson Nester risked her life to bring you."
   The anchor paused for three seconds during which she stared into the camera, before introducing the local weather, as the station's special contact number flashed on the screen.
   Will reached into his boot and extracted the burner phone. He looked at it, but the screen was blank. He pressed the power button, but nothing happened-the battery was dead.
   Several people had followed the breathless young woman into the office. One of them, a slick-haired fortyish guy who'd apparently bathed in spray tanning solution, looked around the room and decided this was a great time to try to score points. He knew he needed to win back some favor, for having been the first of the staff to quit attending Will's lecture series. He didn't realize he would have also been voted the guy most likely to leak a story, if such a vote had ever been taken.
   "Well," he said, "there's one less member of the liberal media we have to worry about."
   His smug sneer was met with abject silence. The people beside him stepped away as if he were radioactive. Will wasn't sure he had heard the comment correctly, which perhaps explained the reason the man was still standing.
   Jim spoke in a measured and quiet voice.
   "Mitchell, first, you don't know Ms. Nester-second, I am certain you have never discussed politics with her because if you had, you'd know how wrong you are to jump to conclusions based on her employer and occupation-and third, this office does not wish ill to anyone regardless of their beliefs, so you're fired. Leave now. Immediately. We will box your things and have them at the front desk in the morning."
   Will couldn't keep his mind off Emerson. 
   If anything happens to her, It'll be on me. I hope she is okay, and simply left of her own free will after being spooked by something of concern. But how could anyone have known about her pending broadcast tonight, before the radio show this morning, to go after her, last night?
§§
   Will thanked Jim and Mike for all the work they had put into springing his trap. He said he was sorry to leave their celebratory party, but he had to go search for Emerson.
   "You have successfully sprung my trap," Will said. "The ball is now rolling, and it will assuredly pick up steam with each passing hour. I don't think it can be stopped now. It is best to keep watch for any roadblocks our opponents seek to erect, and remove them as quickly as possible, to keep the inertia building, of course. There will be a lot of questions asked in the coming days, weeks and months, and you men are best positioned to answer them publicly. Of course, I'll be available for you, privately, as you choose.
   "I need to go look for Emerson. I don't mind not finding her, if she doesn't want to be found. But if she's in trouble, and I can help her, I must certainly try, even if I don't know where to look.
   "You guys better be careful, yourselves."
   Will slipped out a side door, waving goodbye, and hollering, "Thanks again for everything. I'm thrilled it all came together so well. You guys did great."
   Mike took a step as if to bring Will back to the safety of the group, but Jim put out a hand and shook his head.
   "I don't think this was Will's scene in the first place," Jim said. "He looked a little out of sorts mingling in the crowd, which is why I steered us to my office, even before the dire news."
   "Before we shut down this celebration, we need to warn everyone here again to watch their backs and stick together," Mike said. "Then we can go help search for Emerson."
§§
   The streets were quiet. Will walked in a brisk pace, not having a specific destination in mind. He was just looking. He soon realized he was heading towards Emerson's place of work, going by his own apartment in the process.
   He turned the corner and stopped. Three young men blocked his path.
   "Can I help you?" Will asked. For a moment he thought about the "credit card gun" he'd been offered and wondered if he was going to regret his decision not to take it. He couldn't shake the thought this may end up being The Men of Liberty experience all over again.
   "You that Hartline dude, ain't ya?" The speaker was tall, thin, tattooed, and Black.
   "I am," Will said, "but how did you know?"  
   "Not a lot of guys walkin' 'round with such a goofy lid," the oldest of the young men before him said.
   "You like my hat?" Will said. He had forgotten he had put it on when he left the celebratory party. "If you want it, you may have it. I don't really think I have use of it any more, to tell you the truth."
   "Wouldn't be caught dead in that thing," the kid said. "I'd lose all my street cred...but on you, it ain't so bad."
   Will relaxed a little, but only for a moment. The second youngster to speak-far younger, probably eighteen or so-unleashed a crooked grin. His face featured a scar running from the corner of his left eye to his jawline. "Whatcha doin' out here so late, old man?"
   "Looking for a friend-television reporter Emerson Nester," Will said. "Have you seen her, by chance? Tall, blond, shoulder-length hair, blue eyes, magnetic personality, sharp dresser. Young, from my perspective, though not near as young as you."
   "Not around here," the kid said. He withdrew his right hand from his pocket. Will tensed involuntarily.
   "Relax, Gramps," the kid said. He stuck out his hand. "Name's Hector...Hector Ruiz."
   Will shook the hand. Hector pointed with his thumb back to the tall guy.
   "That's Stretch Gilroy, who first spoke. He played a little Juco ball before he figured out he could make more money hustling suckers at the pool hall."
   Stretch extended a long arm. He must have a ninety-inch reach, Will couldn't help but think.
   As if reading his mind, Stretch laughed. "Ninety-one inches. I'd have made it in the league if I could have stayed sober. I'm straight now, but I lost my chance. In my day, I blocked everything in sight."
   "I don't know anything about your sport, but if it has anything to do with reach, you certainly look the part," Will said. He was less tense, but still confused. "Ah...can I assist you gentlemen?"
   The third guy, a block of a man, in-between in age of the other two, let out an odd giggle. His voice was equally incongruous, high pitched and reedy, a little like the fighter, Mike Tyson. 
   "We wanted to assist you," he said.
   Hector nodded towards the speaker. "That's Tank," he said. "He runs the block, but he don't talk much. He heard you wuz on the way and he told us to watch for you."
   "How did he know I was coming?" Will asked.
   "Like I said, he runs the block. Ain't nothin' goes on he don't know 'bout."
   Will scratched his chin. "And he cared about my whereabouts because..."
   "Because," it was Stretch again, "you the man. You done what we all have wanted to happen for a long time. We heard you caused all the fuss goin' on."
   Will shrugged in genuine consternation.
   "You bringing it all down," Hector said. "You're one weird white man, but you started something that's gonna clear 'em all out. Classic sting, man."
   "I don't understand," Will said who understood street slang only slightly better than one would expect from one of the Founders. "I didn't sting anyone."
   The trio laughed-a raucous, good-natured roar. "Sure, man," Hector said. "You came up with this whacked-out plan, baited it with all the goodies anyone in D.C. would ever want, and then, just when their grubby little hands was gettin' ready to plunge into the cookie jar, you turned on the lights like grandma to let everyone catch 'em all in the act.
   "Everyone thinks people like us-you know, down here in the streets-they all think we want big government, handouts, and the like. Man, we just want to be left alone. And you-Will Hartline, wherever the heck you is from-you made it happen."
   Will was at a loss for words. He finally responded. "Well, thank you," he said, "but why would you need to watch out for me?"
   This time, Tank spoke. "You ain't from around here, so maybe you think the streets are safe, but they ain't, especially at night, unless you got yourself a crew-and you look awful by yourself. How much more you got to your crib?"
   Will was going to say something about not having slept in a crib in nearly six decades, then deciphered the slang. "Oh, you must mean where I live. I am staying just around the corner," Will answered.
   Tank giggled again. "The man thought I meant some baby thing, I think," he said. His whole body shook as if the laughter was beating from his insides. Then, he straightened and resumed his silence.
   "Okay, Mr. Will," Hector said. "That's cool. You be safe. And if you ever need security in D.C., just ask around for Tank. We got your back." 
   As they parted ways, Will said, "Please be on the lookout for Miss Nester. If you want to do me a favor, please help keep her safe if you find her. There may be some truly bad men after her." 
   The trio continued down the street and disappeared around a far corner, not realizing just how much Will could have used their aid in just a few moments.
   Will shook his head as he said to himself-I guess I didn't realize people of all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life, were waiting for someone to sound the alarm. I'm glad I could be of service. I just hope Emerson is safe and isn't being made to pay the price.
   As he turned the corner towards his apartment, he suddenly wondered if Emerson might be waiting for him there. A peace came over him from the small glimmer of hope.
   For the first time since hearing Emerson was missing, a large smile came over his face as her pending safety allowed a separate thought into his mind, I think my work is safe now with Mike and Jim leading the charge forward.
   Will said a short prayer. "Thank you, Lord, for sending two men, just when I needed them, to carry forward my work. I don't know if I would have been able to complete it on my own, without them. But, I know I wouldn't have been able to complete it, without You. Thank You and please keep Emerson safe..."
   He never felt the arrow that pierced his heart, and brought his last prayer to an abrupt halt.

Chapter 31
   Jim called an emergency staff meeting the next morning after hearing the dreadful news. Everyone in the office came voluntarily, once the topic of the meeting had been whispered.
   "By now, I'm sure most of you have heard the terrible news," he said. "Some coward ambushed Will Hartline last night, who was pronounced dead at the scene. As of a conversation I had three minutes ago with Detective Holden, there are no suspects. The police questioned three young residents in the area last night who reported a pleasant conversation with Will about fifteen minutes before someone had called 911 saying a dead body lay on the sidewalk with an arrow sticking out of its chest.
   "According to the Detective, the young men were visibly shaken by the news of Will's death. They claimed they were looking to protect Will from harm, but said Will sadly declined their services.
   "Also, Emerson Nester is still missing. It is important we all watch our backs."
   "The three might have been faking their sorrow," someone said, "to protect their own necks."
   "Indeed," Jim said. "The detective will investigate them further, but he didn't think they were involved. Video surveillance evidently showed the men leaving Will while he was yet very much alive, as they went their separate directions, Reliable witnesses also placed the three young men nearly a mile away at the time of the 911 call.
   "The weapon used in the assault was an arrow for big-game hunting-a (he checked a piece of paper) Muzzy Trocar HB Hybrid Broadhead. I looked it up. Nasty looking, four-pronged thing with bone-shattering capabilities. It has what's called a 'bleeder blade' with two expandable wing blades on opposing sides. It's meant to deliver massive entry wounds to give hunters the best chance to kill their big game with one shot and avoid long-suffering."
   "Jim," it was Amen Man, "did you tell the authorities about those Men of Liberty people?"
   "I did. The detective was going to check out the group first thing after he got off the phone. Unfortunately, I didn't have any full names, so I wasn't able to give him any solid leads. It may be a long shot," Jim said, without meaning the pun.
   "What do we do now?"
   Mike began to speak, choked up, then took a moment to compose himself. "When I first met Will Hartline, I thought it was a happy accident. He was a...ah... what's the best word..."
   "Goofy dresser!"
   "Erudite."
   "Long winded!" The comment was obviously meant in good humor, since Jim and Mike had been able to get the staff up to speed on what they needed to know to defend against Will's Political Year Strategy. The chuckle eased the tension in the room.
   "Inspired!"
   Mike nodded. "Yes, not necessarily inspiring because of the long-winded thing (he grinned), but he certainly was inspired. Anyway, given everything that has transpired, I understand our meeting was not happenstance-it was providential."
   Amen Man again said, "Amen."
   "Yes," Mike said, "providential. Will had a vision for this country-for us to return to our roots and rediscover the true meaning of liberty and live in a nation of laws where individual rights and freedoms are protected, where the citizens live in peace and safety, and where the federal government understands the limited constitutional role it was intended to play and is forced to follow it. Will Hartline did not wander in here by accident-nor did he appear because I invited him. No, Will Hartline was sent by God!"
   One of the younger policy staff members-Sadie-tried to choke back tears, but ended up failing miserably, and her efforts to quell her emotions just made her rupture worse.
   Others responded to Mike's comments with hoots and hollers. Soon everyone began clapping and cheering as a round of thanks to Will Hartline. When order finally returned, Jim spoke.
   "You good people are free to do as you must. Of course, you have your work here and I hope you understand its importance, but I need to bring up the fact that our work has turned lethal. The stakes have never been higher during this critical period of turmoil and confusion. If some of you must pursue alternate lines of work for your safety, we understand.
   "I cannot speak for others, but as for me, I intend to honor Will by working as hard as I can to fulfill his vision of America as we've always sought, but finally understand, so we can square up against it, head on."
   A light came into Mike's eyes, the beam of someone who'd just seen his destiny.
   "I apologize for the extemporaneous nature of this announcement, but as of this moment, I am taking a leave of absence from my position as Policy Director, or I resign my post, if I must."
   Other than a room-wide gasp, there was no noise. Everyone saw a man in the middle of a life-altering decision. Jim looked at him, bewildered.
   "And..." Mike continued, "...and...darn it...I'm going to visit Washington State to find everything Will ever wrote, and pick up where he left off."
   Mike kept talking but no one was listening anymore. They were all cheering even as Jim silently worried how to carry on without his right-hand man just when he would have relied upon him most.
   



Chapter 32
   Phil Farwell held a quickly-made sign with one word: Hartline. Mike walked over and extended his hand. "Mike Sterling," he said. "You must be Mr. Farwell-Will talked about you often."
   "Welcome to Washington State," Phil said after acknowledging his identity. "Sorry about the sign. I didn't know what you looked like when I realized I couldn't remember your name. I didn't have time to run back out to my pickup to look again at the paperwork I have with me. Luckily, a woman at one of the ticket counters was nice enough to give me a piece of paper and lend a Sharpie." 
   On the way out of the terminal to short-term parking, Phil talked about the details for Will's memorial service Farwell Farms had planned for Independence Day.
   "It will take us several hours to get home from SeaTac, giving me the opportunity to talk to you about something, Mike," Phil said.
   "As I mentioned on the phone when you called me about coming out here, Will usually called us on Sunday afternoons to provide an update on his progress. On our last conversation, he told me he wanted to update his Last Will and Testament-evidently something spooked him. He sent me the notarized codicil, since I'm the executor of his estate, giving you all his research and records unless you refused them. He said it was his wish you would carry on where he left off. He also willed his interest in the Patriot Corps to you, if you are willing to accept."
   "Wow, I am honored," Mike said. "I didn't know I made much of an impact on the man."
   "He said he'd been looking for you for 30 years, and was very excited Jim and especially you were getting so involved with his life's work," Phil said. "Jim Connery was his natural second choice if you refused, but Jim already had his hands full with the American Jurisprudence Center. Will didn't think non-profits are the best structure to proceed forward with his intentions.
   "That you decided to come back here on your own and got ahold of me before I could get ahold of you shows me Will made a good decision."
   "I would be deeply honored to accept Will's vote of confidence," Mike said. "I'll sift through everything, but I don't really have a lot of storage space at home. I'll take whatever might have future value for research and posterity. To be honest, I'm still in shock - about everything." 
   §§
   Phil gave Mike the keys to Will's cabin for Mike to stay in while he was there and also allowed Mike to borrow a farm pickup. Phil and his wife Janet insisted Mike dine with them for dinner in the evenings, except when Kyle and Laura Dorning invited him. 
   On the fifth day of sifting through Will's papers and study materials, Mike came across Will's copy of a two-volume study entitled Jurisdiction over Federal Areas within the States.
   The committee writing the 1956 intergovernmental report had been empaneled at the recommendation of the Attorney General with approval of President Eisenhower and his cabinet.
   The committee had been called to examine the problems arising out of the jurisdictional status of federally owned and exclusively-governed areas located throughout the several States.
   The committee didn't examine or discuss the District of Columbia, since it had its own local form of government-then a three-member Board of Commissioners-largely providing the services elsewhere provided by State and local governments.
   Services noticeably absent on all other exclusive legislative parcels found scattered throughout the States, however, dealt with marriage, divorce, police, fire, schools, and, recording of deeds, births, and deaths, and such other local matters. Outside of exclusive areas, State and local governments handled these services. But, State and local government were incapable of providing these services for the special federal areas, where the States reserved no powers except occasionally the named power to serve legal process, such as summons and complaints.
   The people who lived and worked on exclusive legislative properties-like larger military bases, for example-often found the problems multiplied. The study was commissioned to examine the issues and make policy recommendations.
   Mike found Will's highlighted portions of the two-volume set quite helpful getting him up to speed quickly. For instance, the conclusions of the panel called for the termination of most exclusive legislative jurisdiction, saying: 
The most immediate need, in the view of the Committee, is to make provision for the retrocession of unnecessary jurisdiction to the States.
   Further, the committee recommended: 
With respect to the large bulk of federally owned or operated real property in the several States and outside of the District of Columbia it is desirable that the Federal Government not receive, or retain, any measure whatsoever of legislative jurisdiction, but that it hold the installations and areas in a proprietorial interest status only, with legislature jurisdictions [sic] several States.
   While it would be understandable if people thought military installations would be endangered should the federal government give up exclusive legislative jurisdiction, this concern was not shared by the military. The formal opinion of the Department of the Navy, for instance, declared:
...the jurisdictional status of the site of an installation is immaterial insofar as any effect it may have upon the security and military control over the property and personnel of a command are concerned.
   At the time of the study, far less than half of all military bases were ever housed on exclusive legislative jurisdiction properties anyway-the clear majority were already located on lands already under State governing authority, regarding its reserved powers.
   Intrigued, Mike spent the next several days mulling over Will's paper on the report before excitedly announcing to Phil and Janet at dinner it was time for him to pack his bags and head back to Washington, D.C., after Will's service.
§§
   The memorial service was unlike anything Mike had ever attended. About an hour before twilight, Phil's family assembled outside the house. Most everyone was in jeans, pressed button-down shirts, and dress boots.
   Mike had already cleared his things out of Will's cabin in anticipation for his flight on July 5th. When Mike first appeared from his guest room, he was in a designer suit. Phil snickered, reminded of Bert Maples' earlier visit, then pushed Mike back inside with instructions to change.
   When Mike came out, suitably attired, he joined Phil, Janet, Kyle and Laura and others on a hayride behind an oversized tractor for the small job-the 6210R.
   Phil thought it was appropriate to send Will off in the tractor he had spent so much time operating. Greg Dorning climbed into the cab and cranked the engine. They rolled around the edges of a few large fields until they reached a far corner.
   As everyone hopped off the trailer, Greg climbed down from the cab. "Whenever he'd finish the season, Will liked to come to this spot and survey what he'd done," Phil said. "He didn't leave many instructions, but I know he wouldn't want much mourning, but wish for everyone to have a good time."
   "You have a preacher coming?" Mike asked.
   "Nope," Phil said. "Gonna handle it ourselves. Got some of the other hands coming in." He pointed to a caravan of pickup trucks rolling along a road about a half-mile away. Dust plumed behind the train of vehicles. "Here they come now."
   Mike pointed to a group of three men who were about two hundred yards away. "What are they doing?"
   "When the wind shifts, you'll know," Kyle said. "They're tending the imu pit."
   "Huh?" Mike said. He hated sounding ignorant, but he had no clue what they were doing.
   "You have never been to a pig roast, evidently," Kyle said. "The pit's about five feet long and three feet wide by about a foot deep. Those guys have taken shifts to tend to the hog for about twelve hours. You can tell things are getting close, because they are all there together now. Will requested a few Christian words and also a pig roast if enough people showed up to make the effort worthwhile."
   A slight breeze kicked up and Mike breathed in the most glorious aroma he'd ever smelled. "Oh goodness," he said. "It smells amazing."
   "Tastes ever better," Kyle said. "But we have some business to attend to first."
   The group of about forty folks gathered in the far corner of the field. Phil called everyone to order. Every man removed his cap. Will's tricorn hat had been placed on the top of a small temporary cross staked into the ground for the service.
   "Beloved in the Lord," Phil said, "we are here to the glory of Almighty God and in loving memory of our friend, Will Hartline. I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. Those who believe in me, though they were dead, yet shall they live. And whosoever lives and believes in me shall never die. In hope and in thanksgiving for a life well lived, let us worship God."
   Phil did a better job with the service than most preachers Mike had encountered. While a great many services sounded generic-like "insert name of dead person here"-this tribute was moving, genuine, and-most important-personal. Phil's respect and affection for Will were obvious. Phil read scripture lessons and wove in pertinent stories and attributes. As they neared the conclusion, everyone recited the Twenty-third Psalm with its fitting references to green pastures, paths of righteousness, and tables prepared in the presence of enemies. 
   "Let us pray," Phil said. "Almighty God, support us all the day long of this troublous life until the shadows lengthen, and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then, by thy great mercy, grant us a safe lodging, and a holy, rest, and peace at the last, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen."3  
   As soon as everyone said, "Amen" and before the last hat was settled back on the last head, the sky exploded with fireworks-all in red, white, and blue.
   "This was my idea," Phil said. "Got them from the Indian Reservation. Spectacular, huh?"
   "Will would have loved it," Mike said. "Especially on Independence Day. He put his hand on Phil's shoulder. "Very touching tribute for your friend. You spared no expense."
   When Phil's shoulder began shaking, Mike thought the man was crying. But he heard laughter.
   "You think Old Will would want anyone to spend their money on him like this? Absolutely not. He told me more than a few times he expected me to sell his tractor to cover any final costs if I outlasted him."
   Mike's eye narrowed. "I don't know much about old tractors, and I've never paid for a funeral. But I know those fireworks weren't cheap. You trying to tell me the old bucket of bolts I saw at Will's cabin and in the newspaper articles will bring enough to pay for everything I see here?"
   Phil held his palms skyward, a wide smile across his face. "Will, I confess. Feel free to come back here and chew me out."
   They watched until the last spark flickered into extinction. Then Phil said, "Okay, folks, that's all the tears Will would likely tolerate. We can lighten up on the fire watch over the wheat fields, and stand down the discs. Let's eat some pig!"
   As they walked, Mike reached up and put his hand on Phil's shoulder. "You think Will would object if I had a cold beer with the pork?"
   "I hope he does," Phil said. "The more reasons we have to bring him back, the better."
§§
   "Mike, you're back," Jim said when Mike entered Jim's office, "even sooner than I expected, which is great, because I can't keep up with my duties here, let alone any new ones with the Patriot Corps. You had me wondering what's up with your cryptic text. Did something alter your plans?"
   "Yes, I found what I needed, much sooner than I thought," Mike said. "I need to run my strategy by you, applying Will's research to current events. I must tell you; I am very excited.
   "You remember when the Unionists in the House of Representatives approved a House Bill to make the District of Columbia the 51st State in June of 2020?
   "Remember, it was in the middle of the coronavirus scare and rioting?"
   "Yes, the D.C.-Statehood bill would be kind of hard to forget, given everything else going on at the time," Jim said.
   "Perhaps Will pondered this strategy and decided against it, for he thought it would reward scoundrels for their unforgiveable scandalous activity," Mike said. "Or, maybe it never occurred to him. Either way, I see real value in it. I readily admit, however, that I may have a few more politically-expedient bones in my body than Will ever did.
   "When I saw Will's notes on a 1956 intergovernmental report recommending retrocession of most exclusive legislative lands-not counting D.C., as the District Seat was outside the parameters of the study-it hit me.
   "History has suddenly presented us with an amazing opportunity to couple together three separate plans-the non-partisan plan of sixty-five years, for retrocession of unneeded exclusive legislation authority; the Unionists' plan for D.C. Statehood; and Will's plan to repeal Clause 17.
   "The first plan involves retrocession back to the States, of exclusive legislation areas, to eliminate the structural problems from not having any local governing structure over forts, magazines, arsenals, dockyards and other needful buildings.
   "The second plan is our political opponents' long-standing effort to make D.C. a State, including recent efforts, even though a local governing structure there exists, currently in the form of a mayor and city council.
   "Clause 17, as you know, addresses both types of exclusive legislation properties-first, the District of Columbia, and second, all the other lands used for exclusive federal purposes.
   "Thus, why not combine both of those efforts, in one new pitch, while we add in our related most-favored strategy, repealing Clause 17?
   "I would argue D.C. Statehood 'done right' would ultimately require a constitutional amendment and even that it couldn't be done without one. Well, I say, let's give it to them."
   "Have you gone stark raving mad?" Jim asked, horrified to hear such words come out of Mike's normally-sane mouth. "What in the world is in the water out in Washington State?" 
   "No, hear me out," Mike said. "Just withhold your judgement even for just a few minutes, and listen to my rationale. I promise, I won't take near as long as Will, to explain myself."
   Jim and Mike both laughed at their late friend who had never been able to help himself.
   Mike continued.
   "In a sign of good will-which our scandalous opponents admittedly don't deserve-we concede to them their grandest prize. We give them a new, hard-left-leaning State, so they could reach their real goal of two new perpetually leaning, progressive Senators, and a new voting leftist Representative."
   "Which is precisely why we should oppose them with every fiber of our being," Jim said.
   "In any bargain," Mike continued, refusing to be sidetracked by Jim, "both sides should, of course, get something in return.
   "Well, the thing we most want, is repeal of Clause 17-getting rid of all exclusive legislative properties and especially all exclusive legislation powers that have been throwing a monkey wrench in normal federal/State relations since the dawn of the Republic.
   "By giving our political opponents their grandest prize-D.C. Statehood-we should be able to get nearly all our opponents' votes, getting us nearly three-fourths of the way to our own objective, before we even ask our cohorts to join in the measure! 
   "That we need only about 35% of our own available partisan votes to push us over the amendment proposal threshold of two-thirds majority for Congress to be able to propose an amendment shows just how enticing is this plan. We will only need to convince about one-third of our own colleagues to support our most beneficial effort to get it formally proposed!
   "We have two non-negotiable items, however. First, we specifically allow admission of only one new State, not two, or five or 10 new micro-States, for them to try and pull one over on us.
   "And, second, we must necessarily obliterate every grain of exclusive legislation sand, not leaving even one square inch of exclusive legislation land, like at the National Mall, for example. So powerful is this exclusive legislation authority it cannot be allowed to continue to exist even only in theoretical form, to any extent whatsoever-it must be entirely uprooted. This is how Hamilton was able to get his bank set up in Philadelphia in 1791, after all, even before the lands for the District Seat were ever ceded.
   "D.C. Statehood is up for discussion only if Clause 17 is repealed, entirely.
   "We give up to our opponents their three new progressive members of Congress-their two new Senators and one new Representative, but we regain the country!
   "I don't see this as compromising on principle-I see it as placing a huge bet on our fundamental American principles against our opponents' devious sleights of hand, which reveal their wholesale lack of principles.
   "The fantastic thing about this plan is if our political opponents end up opposing our effort, it would only be because they would realize that without Clause 17, their long, free reign of tyranny would end.
   "So, either we'd get them to agree to repeal Clause 17, or we get them to admit they reign beyond the spirit of the Constitution only because of Clause 17! So, we win some if we lose, but we win big, if we win.
   "And, their tacit admission that they reign like kings only because of Clause 17 would then directly aid our own efforts to push for repeal, without D.C. statehood.
   "In other words, through this effort, we can box them into a corner where they can only win by working with us. At some point, the truth will eventually be adequately revealed to gain full repeal of Clause 17, even without D.C. Statehood, and without a convention. Truth ultimately gets out once it breaks free even minimally.
   "I think we've already broken free of the lies' former stranglehold. Once truth finds its own way even a little, it will soon break free, just like the smallest trickle of water cascading over a massive dam will in time destroy the dam that seeks to hold back too much water. Seeking to hold back truth that has begun to escape will in turn obliterate the dam supporting two hundred years of despicable lies.
   "Working within delegated powers exercised using necessary and proper means unavoidably prevents anything beyond that stiff standard, once alternate authority is fully removed, even if Unionists won every position in Congress, the Presidency, and the courts.
   "We need merely follow the directive of the Twenty-First Amendment, which repealed Prohibition imposed by the Eighteenth Amendment, and we repeal the seventeenth clause of the eighth section of the first article of the Constitution of the United States.
   "Of course, in the process of proposing and ratifying a new amendment to repeal Clause 17, we'd have to also repeal the 23rd Amendment, which gives the District Seat its Electoral Votes for the President as if it were a State, since there wouldn't be a District Seat.
   "After repeal, there would finally only be States; no more District Seat that may ever again masquerade as a State.
   "All governing authority throughout each State-beyond foreign embassies or consulates (which have nothing really to do with the United States anyway)-would thereafter be divided solely into enumerated federal powers and reserved State powers, everywhere.
   "I believe Maryland would also specifically have to buy off on the amendment of repeal, when repeal is integrated with D.C. statehood. In other words, Maryland would have to be one of the ratifying States of the amendment. It is no coincidence Alexandria was retroceded back to Virginia in 1846 when that area was no longer needed for the original purposes for which Virginia had ceded it.
   "Maryland would likewise normally get back its ceded D.C. trust land if the land was no longer needed for the purposes for which Maryland had originally ceded it. Although Maryland forever 'ceded and relinquished' the parcel of property it gave to Congress and the U.S. Government, it gave up the parcel in trust for a specific purpose. As long as the ceded purpose continues, Maryland has no claim whatsoever upon the property. However, when the purpose ends, or in this case when exclusive legislation status ends, trust property properly reverts to the originating trustor.
   "We'd have to induce Maryland to sign off on the amendment, even if the inducement proved costly, if the District of Columbia was allowed to form into its own State.
   "Will Hartline proved to be a betting man; I say we up his wager, and bet our way of thinking against our opponents'.
   "Our political opponents will see an easier way to make and keep liberal majorities with their three new legislators, which is their Grand Prize-while I see the best means to rid ourselves of inherent discretion happily-ever-after by working with our opponents.
   "Again, if no amendment of repeal comes from this initial effort, it will be because our political opponents tacitly admit our primary point-that they only have inherent discretion, because of Clause 17 and its exclusive legislation authority.
   "What do you think?"
   "Oh my goodness," Jim said.
   "I admit I was really worried a few weeks ago when you said you were taking a leave of absence. I felt you were leaving us at the worst possible time.
   "Next, I was thrilled to get your text saying you'd be back today, weeks earlier than I had hoped.
   "Then, I was extremely worried just a few minutes ago when you said you supported D.C. statehood.
   "But, after listening for only a few minutes, I must admit your strategy sounds fantastic, even as it is shocking to hear, at least initially. I'm not sure my heart can take much more of this seesaw, back-and-forth action.
   "I'll have to say that I am surprised Will didn't push this plan, instead of taking a chance on his Political Year Strategy. I would understand pursuing justice-of wanting to fully expose the fraud and refusing to reward slimy political figures for their life-long Machiavellian efforts-rather than just getting rid of this alternate authority largely silently, though.
   "However, the 'liberty' portion of the 'liberty and justice' equation may well favor pushing 'liberty' more than pursuing 'justice,' especially since justice could be worked out later, after our freedom is secured. We shouldn't pursue justice too early, for it could unduly postpone liberty.
   "Perhaps the best thing about your D.C.-Statehood-Clause-17-Repeal-Strategy is it would largely work behind the scenes, quietly. We can primarily work with members of Congress and State legislators and get it proposed and ratified without a huge fuss.
   "So, Mike, since repealing Clause 17 is our simplest, best option to end tyranny-if its cost was only a liberal 51st State-would I go for it? Yes, I would have to say I'd jump at the chance in a heartbeat. Repeal coupled with D.C. statehood would still do all of the good with very, very little of the bad.
   "In fact, with this effort, I think we could turn Will's flat hart-line, back into a vibrant heartbeat again."
   Mike was thrilled his boss was convinced so easily to something a moment ago made him lose his breath. 
   "You know, Mike, I am proud of you, and I think Will would be also," Jim said.
   "You picked up where he left off-and in my humble opinion-even improved upon Will's strategy without taking any of his risk.
   "Just think of the potential damage of Congress approving The Political Year Strategy and changing the date for federal elections, perhaps even exposing us to a constitutional crisis.
   "You were right, Mike, to risk your career, so to speak, and see where Will's research could take us. I want you to run with this. I think using Will's new Patriot Corps organization would do him great honor.
   "The American Jurisprudence Center would be honored to work on the underlying principles involved with the effort, of course."

Chapter 33
   "Detective Holden," Zach Holden answered on his office phone. "What can I do for you?"
   "Hello, Detective, this is Bill Jenkins, owner of Bill's Hunt Shack, a gun shop serving the shooting and hunting community thirty miles south of D.C.
   "This may not be anything, but several weeks ago, I had an undesirable character come in a few minutes before closing asking for an arrow broadhead, and I quote, 'that causes maximum damage.' I have many big game hunters who don't want their game to suffer, but this guy just seemed different-dangerous. He seemed to concentrate on punishment, as an end, in and of itself.
   "Given what had happened to Will Hartline I've seen all over the news, I thought I should contact the lead detective investigating the murder. I was forwarded to you. As I said, it may not be anything, but my staff and I were within a fraction of a second of drawing our pistols on the guy. He just kind of creeped me out, even as I couldn't necessarily say anything definite about the guy that led me to throw him out of my store. I didn't remember the incident or think about a possible correlation until one of my staff members brought it up a few moments ago."
   "Do you know the guy's name, or anything about him?" the detective asked.
   "If you're asking for the customer's name-no, I don't. But I do have video footage of the incident and make, model, and license plates of his pickup."
   "This may be my best lead so far," Detective Holden said. "Please give me your address. My partner and I will be right over."
   "Let's go, detective," Zach Holden said to his partner, Steve Zimmerman. "We have a lead."
   Arriving 50 minutes later, Bill Jenkins met the detectives at the door and welcomed them.  Bill had good rapport with area policemen and deputies, who were typically among his best customers.
   "Welcome, detectives. I'm Bill Jenkins, proprietor. Follow me. Here's the license plate number of the guy's F-250 pickup and I'll show you the video," Bill said. He handed Detective Zimmerman a slip of paper.
   After gathering all the information, Detective Holden asked, "After we find this guy and get him in a line-up, will you come up to the station and identify the man, Mr. Jenkins?"
   "Certainly," answered Bill, "but if the guy who owns the pickup looks like the guy you see in the video, he should be your man."
   "We can be comfortable with this working theory, I agree," Detective Holden said. "But, we need to dot every 'i' and cross every 't' on this one-very high-profile, you know. We really need you to identify the man, directly."
   "Sure, the guy gave me the creeps," Bill said. "I'll rest more comfortably when he's behind bars, unless or until he's cleared of any wrongdoing."
   Titus Adkinson was taken into custody without incident. A search warrant for weapons and ideological materials successfully turned up a crossbow and a dozen crossbow bolts, two hunting rifles, three shotguns, three semi-automatic rifles, five thousand rounds of ammunition, and several dozen boxes of shotgun shells. In other words, Titus was just getting started on a stockpile.
   But, the weaponry wasn't what incriminated Titus so heavily-it was his hand-written journal entries, especially when he vented against the leaders of The Men of Liberty who let Will free after his trial.
   Luckily for the others, Titus clearly wrote the group had exonerated Will, which, of course, was why Titus felt betrayed. His friends' apparent disloyalty pushed Titus to seek an envious revenge.
   Titus' journal would have helped convict at least a few of the men for kidnapping, if Will had ever wanted to press charges.
   But, the beginning of the end for Titus-what began to drive him to madness-was when The Men of Liberty invited Will to come back and give them a lecture. That was bad enough, but it was simply too much when Will later accepted the offer. When his sworn enemy became friendly with Titus' former friends, who had largely pushed Titus away, Titus became infuriated and even enraged.
   When the detectives interviewed The Men of Liberty cited in Titus's journal, the ones who had heard him make his highly incendiary comments during and after the trial relayed their story.
   Their testimony would have set a noose around Titus' neck, except he had a rock-solid alibi. Also, his last journal entry helped to convince the authorities he was innocent of murder.
   It was dated June 14th-Flag Day-and time stamped right after Napalm Nettleton's spectacular radio show with Lydia Montegue. The broadcast had gotten through, even to Titus Adkinson, it seems.
   "I really thought we had our man, Mr. Connery," Detective Holden told Jim when the detective visited the American Jurisprudence Center days later. "His alibi was backed up by three solid witnesses, and his journal seems to indicate he finally understood how Will had only set a trap. He realized Mr. Hartline wasn't an adversary, but a hero. 
   "Titus Adkinson seemed contrite upon questioning. He admitted he had visited the gun store with intent to buy a broadhead to murder Will. He also confessed to stabbing the arrow into Will's door as a warning of his impending doom. Adkinson further revealed he had seen Emerson Nester leaving Will's boarding house and later took out several of her tires to scare her off. 
   "He claims, however, Napalm Nettleton-who curiously enough, had proved instrumental in riling up Titus years earlier-helped him slowly understand what the Men of Liberty had figured out weeks earlier.
   "Mr. Adkinson started shaking when he relayed the story, realizing how close he had come to 'killing the goose that was working to lay the golden egg'-using his words. He said he vowed off violence right then and there, because he said it leaves permanent effects, and one cannot always be assured of being permanently right."
   Detective Holden and Jim Connery spoke for ten more minutes. The detective questioned Jim about other suspects, but Jim had none to give.
   Of course, normally the detective would have never been so forthcoming with anyone remotely connected with a murder investigation, but his gut was telling him that he needed to proceed forward with all haste, if he wanted to maintain control over the high-profile investigation. 
    The detective felt confident Jim Connery offered him the best opportunity to speed along the investigation. It didn't hurt that the detective had also long been troubled with the general decay of American politics and that he also followed the work of the American Jurisprudence Center, even before Will Hartline inspired the organization to reach bold new heights.
   When Detective Holden returned to the police station an hour later, the desk sergeant said, "Hey, Holden, the Captain is looking for you."
   "Thanks, Sarge."
   The detective knocked on the captain's door and entered when allowed.
   "Sir, you asked for me?"
   "Yes, Detective Holden, this is FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Matthew Selberg and his partner, Special Agent Sidney Pomeroy. They're taking over the investigation into the murder of Will Hartline. Please give them your file. Their order comes from the top-it's out of my hands."
   "You can't be serious," Detective Holden protested, even as he was so shocked that he couldn't offer substantial resistance. "This is our case, Boss-why now?"
   "Once your primary suspect fizzled, some powers high up decided they wanted a fresh set of eyes on the high-profile case. I don't think they are completely convinced your latest suspect is as innocent as you think."
   "Are we allowed to still work the case as long as we update the FBI?"
   "No," answered the FBI Agent, matter-of-factly. "Especially in this case. We'll be taking it from here. As your captain said, we're not convinced Titus Adkinson is innocent. We're not even convinced the gun store owner didn't still sell the broadhead used to kill Will Hartline, even if it ended up being someone else who bought it." 
   "That's ludicrous if you think Bill Jenkins had anything voluntarily to do with Mr. Hartline's murder. I checked him out with the local police and sheriff's office. All the officers I spoke with think Mr. Jenkins is as solid as they come. Some of them have known him for decades. Besides, store records indicated no one even bought the particular model of broadhead used in the murder in the past month. Titus Adkinson certainly didn't buy it or anything else there that day. We viewed the whole incident on tape."
   "Perhaps so, but we're going to be checking everything again, as I said," Special Agent Selberg said. "Please do as your captain ordered, and go fetch your case file."
   "Enough, Special Agent-this is my precinct and detectives around here are under my supervision. I'll do all the ordering here," the captain said as he motioned with his eyes, while saying "Detective," to get Holden moving toward the direction of his desk and grab his file.
   "Yes, of course, Captain-my apologies," the Special Agent said. 
§§
   "Steve, we've been pulled from the case," Detective Holden told his partner after he got back to his desk. "I can't believe it. It's not like we screwed up. Although I initially thought Titus Adkinson was our man, now I'm quite confident he's innocent of this crime, if only because he didn't act a day or two sooner than he had originally planned."
   

Epilogue
   Detective Holden was shocked when he saw the evening news the following night. The FBI had arrested Titus Adkinson and charged him with murder and conspiracy. They also had issued arrest warrants for several other Men of Liberty members.
   The news released a curious amount of information for an ongoing investigation, while repeatedly quoting "reliable sources." The reporter relayed that Adkinson's alibi was unravelling with one witness missing while another recanted. The third was wavering, but no mention was made of the serious amount of pressure being placed upon him, which would have induced even the most determined of resolute witnesses to squirm as the authorities were leveraging them to recant their earlier statements.
   The photo of the cache of arms collected from the suspect remained on the screen behind the newscaster until the report ran a video clip of one of The Men of Liberty obscured in a dark shadow, who relayed that Titus claimed he "was gonna kill" Will Hartline and said that "the traitor" "needs to be punished."
   "The considerable leaks to the media seem to contain highly leading information and of questionable veracity, at least to those of us who know all the evidence," Detective Holden said to his partner.
   "I would argue the FBI going after the homegrown terrorist angle would be a difficult plot to sell for no other reason than Will Hartline was a private citizen," Detective Zimmerman said. "And for Hartline to be the individual who worked to remove the veil hiding unlimited federal authority would seem to indicate Hartline and his assassin were ultimately fighting from the same side of the aisle, even though they sought to implement opposing strategies."
   "Since Hartline was killed so soon after the Flag Day radio show," Detective Holden answered, "it multiplies the potential motives of the assassin, making it easier for the FBI to make their case no matter which side they decide to push.
    "The Feds could argue the assassin was against implementation of The Political Year Strategy, but just didn't hear the radio broadcast soon enough. Or, just as easily, the Feds could argue as soon as those who were actually for implementation of the strategy heard they had been set up, they acted quickly to punish the instigator.
   "What I find most revealing was there wasn't any mention in the news of Titus's final journal entry. To me, his last entry clearly indicates he was no longer pursuing his original strategy, since it was dated the day of the radio show. I hope for his sake, if he is innocent of this particular crime, that this journal page hasn't suddenly gone 'missing.'
   "I hadn't thought much of it, but I suppose it's possible Titus assassinated Will but only afterwards learned The Political Year Strategy was only a trap. I guess one could arguably make the case that Titus wrote his final entry after the assassination to protect himself in case he was ever arrested for what he ended up regretting almost immediately.
   "It sure appears the Feds are manipulating the released evidence to fit their agenda. All I can tell you is I'm not going to be a party to any coverup, not if I can help it. I took an oath to support the Constitution, and I'm not going to violate it, especially this close to retirement."
   "A lot of theories are being thrown up on the wall right now, to see what will stick," Detective Zimmerman said. "I just know when we turned over our file, we were last working from the theory Will Hartline's assassin had been hired by people who heard the broadcast and were always Will's real target. I think they moved as fast as they could, so an uninformed clown from the radical right could still be blamed. It appears uniformed government dupes may have found their man to fill the part for their 'crazed right-wing killer' they seem to enjoy pushing at every opportunity.
   "Maybe it was just horribly dangerous for Will Hartline to make so many people so mad at him from both sides of the aisle, found at the periphery."
   "Well, if you think about it, if you remove his personal liability from the equation, it was still a decent strategy to build up the story to spectacular heights, while keeping the most powerful of men off their guard until the trap was sprung, when the scoundrels' devious tactics were suddenly exposed for the whole world to see," Detective Holden said. "Remember, Jim Connery said Will Hartline knew he was infuriating both sides, perhaps at differing times, but plowed ahead anyway.
   "Maybe he just did what was best for the country, rather than himself.
   "Unfortunately, this may yet be another incident where we won't ever learn the true story, or know for a long time, just like the Kennedy assassination and so many other troubling events," Detective Holden said.
§§
   "Jim, Mike; you two have a visitor," their receptionist said. "It's someone you'll want to see."
   "Send him right in, then," Jim answered, slightly curious about the excitement in the receptionist's voice. Good news would be especially welcome.
   "It's a 'her,'" the receptionist replied.
   Underneath a wide-brimmed hat and behind sunglasses, in walked Emerson Nester. Upon entering Jim's office, she removed the hat and glasses as if she reached a zone of safety.
   "Well, if it is not Emerson Nester-you're a sight for sore eyes, young lady," Jim said as he rested his hand on her shoulder and welcomed her to his office. "We're thrilled you are back. Are you okay? Where have you been?"
   "I went into hiding," she said. "Will and I had talked after he found an arrow stuck in his door. He knew his strategy would ruffle feathers on one side one moment, and the other side, the next. He made me promise if I were ever threatened while helping him, I would get to safety as soon as possible until the threat died down. He knew everyone affected by his strategy meant business and played for keeps. He said a few days' leeway, even at the most critical of moments, shouldn't jeopardize our work. Live to fight another day, he told me."
   "Yes, we also talked about personal safety, at length," Jim said.
   "It was one thing when I merely dropped off The Political Year Strategy to my cool-headed contacts who would oppose it as Will first asked, but he didn't end up liking me working to help spring the trap and bring the rascals down, once things escalated," Emerson said.
   "Of course, I told him that I wasn't going to let you two men take all the risks, and that was even before Napalm and Lydia stepped up to the plate and launched the story nationwide, since none of us had their impressive reach.
   "Truthfully, though, I'm still not sure how anyone even saw me as a threat as of the night of June 13th. Few people knew I had even passed out any copies of Will's Political Year Strategy.
   "And even fewer people should have known anything about the expose I was putting my final touches on the night before it was to air, so if or when I got final clearance for it, I could run with it. Until the radio show aired, only you two, Will, Napalm and Lydia knew I was seeking approval for my own televised expose. And, it's not like either Napalm or Lydia would have sought to hang me out to dry early, since they were both jumping in with both feet and they got to go first and spring the trap.
   "But, when I got to my car in the parking lot Sunday night, I found an arrow in two of my car tires."
   "Yes, we heard about your ordeal," Jim said. "The detective originally investigating Will's murder said Titus Atkinson-who has been now charged for Will's murder by the FBI-admitted to shooting compound bow bolts-arrows-into your tires."
   "What a relief, to know the guy who took out my tires is behind bars," Emerson said as a calm came over her, one she hadn't felt since she went into hiding.
   "But, the detective is fairly certain Titus Adkinson didn't actually murder Will, even though he admitted he had planned to do so. He claimed Napalm's radio broadcast opened his eyes. He said he swore off violence, after Will's message finally sunk into his small mind."
   "I'm sure the guy would say anything to save his skin," Emerson said, not willing to believe the innocence of her stalker. "I assumed it was the same person who put an arrow in Will's door. But, I didn't think anyone would have known about me unless they had been watching his place when I went to see Will after The Men of Liberty incident. I figured it was still safe for me to visit Will at that time.
   "Let me tell you, I don't mind admitting the whole experience threw me for a loop, especially when I heard Will had been murdered, and with an arrow, no less.
   "I just hope Napalm and Lydia and all of you here are protecting yourselves. I noticed your stern-looking armed security when I came in the door-I hope they are enough.
   "We discussed security with Napalm and Lydia before they broke the story," Jim said. "They had a half-dozen ex-military armed guards on staff since the morning of the radio show. They're playing it cool until things simmer down, staying away from the limelight and out of sight from the public. They have guest hosts, covering their respective shows."
   "Good, I'm glad," Emerson said.
   "Yes, we thought it best those who took part of the initial release-the A-Team-step back for a week or two after they released their initial shock wave-to let the B-Team members step up to bat during the interim.
   "Having only a few A-Team members but a lot of B-Team members helped dilute the risk to any individual person. The more exposed B-Team members working after the initial disclosure individually will have done less to offend those who perhaps wouldn't tolerate offense. 
   "The solution to high risk is to spread out the individual risk as much as possible. The 'solution to pollution is dilution' strategy works just as well with physical risk as it does in public health situations.
   "It's also in recognition of 'the dose makes the poison' argument, where a high concentration of exposure to one or two people can be lethal, but the same amount of exposure distributed to many people may only get them sick, and, in small doses, spread out over time, may even inoculate them to withstand future assaults better.
   "Once the exposure of corruption reaches a turning point, those who exposed it initially are less liable to danger, beyond if someone simply seeks retribution for what they view as a past unforgiveable offenses. Retribution is tough to defend against, if the person seeking it is patient and willing to wait for their opportunity to fulfill their intention, whenever they may pull it off."
   "What did you do when you found the arrows?" Mike asked.
   "The first thing I did was to try and pull them out of the tires, which was no small feat, let me tell you. I didn't want the tow truck driver asking a lot of questions when he came out to take my car to a tire shop. 
   "But, I got scared while waiting for the tow truck when a dark SUV with tinted windows drove slowly towards my car looking for me, it appeared. Thankfully, I had been in the shadows, so I was able to hide. After they left, I called the tow driver to tell him I found a ride home, and for him just to drop the car off at the tire shop.
   "I tried to call Will on the burner phone I gave him, but he didn't answer. Figuring I better react quickly, after I left a message for Will, I took out my cell battery and smashed the SIM card and my cell phone to pieces. I hid until the next morning when I could come out into a relative crowd, and blend in with the surroundings until I could get farther away.
    "Will was with us when we heard of your disappearance on the news," Mike said. "Will checked his phone-it had a dead battery."
   "Shocker." Emerson said, laughing, before she pursed her lips. "I guess I never specifically mentioned to him to plug it in from time to time to charge the battery. I took it for granted he knew that." 
   "Well, they didn't have batteries or cell phones in 1776," Mike said, laughing at their late friend. "He is, I mean, was, a consistent fellow, after all.
   "I figure Will knew the phone would need charging, but simply wasn't in the habit of actually doing it. I can't be too harsh on him; it isn't like I thought about him plugging in his phone, to see if you had left him a message, so we would all know that you were safe."
   "I never thought of that, either," Jim wistfully admitted, realizing that if he or Mike had told Will to plug in his phone, they could have undoubtedly postponed Will's horrid outcome, or possibly have changed it.
   Neither Jim nor Mike mentioned to Emerson either that Will had gone out looking for her when he had been killed. Whoever murdered Will was intentional in his effort, after all. Without an intervening miracle, Will's death would have simply come an hour later.
   "I'm thankful for Will's friends, Elliot and Martha Parker, from Pittsburg," Emerson said. "Will told me about them when we discussed security after his arrow-in-the-door incident. Will said no one would know anything about them from his side, or mine, and Elliot had promised Will he would do anything he could to help Will institute his plan.
   "I called Elliot once I was able to borrow a stranger's cell phone, and Elliot drove nearly five hours to come pick me up. I was treated like royalty at his home. I was going to call you men Monday morning, but I was already with the Parker's and I didn't want to extend any risk to them. Sorry I couldn't keep you guys in the loop. If I had your cell numbers, I would have called you Sunday night before I smashed my phone and left D.C.
   "You should have seen Elliot beam from ear to ear when I told him what Will had been able to create from Elliot's casual complaint. He was thrilled to have been twice instrumental in so monumental of effort-not only helping Will forge the plan, but also keeping me safe so I could help spring the trap on my return."
   "You know, Emerson," Jim said. "I think we'll find many more Americans who would absolutely love to find something they may do to help restore our Republic, if we can let them know how they can help."
   "Well, if the number of people who have signed their name to The Patriot Corps Pledge and joined as a member of the Patriot Corps is any indication, you're spot on," Mike said, after glancing at the data from his absence. "Of course, even more than people's money, we need their help-not only their physical effort, but also their mental acuity to come up with bold new ways to proceed forward and help spread the message.
   "As the old English proverb reads, 'Many hands make light work.'"4
   As Mike's words faded, Jim noticed Mike inquisitively looking out the window, high up into the sky. 
   Mike walked over to the window and pointed. "Would you look at that," he said. "There's your answer. See those clouds?"
   Jim craned his neck. "The big puffy one kind of surrounded by some other ones-over there?"
   "Yep," Mike said. "The big one looks like a heart. Look...see how those small dark ones are stretching into a thin line. They look like an arrow. See?
   Jim squinted. "Yeah," he said. "I see what you mean. Pretty neat."
   The longer Mike stared, the more sharply defined the formation became until it formed "the Hartline," but without its former sinister connotation, instead now more like Cupid's arrow, signifying the hope and even promise of future happiness, with a live and vibrant heart.
   "It's not an anomaly, my friend," Jim said. "Not at all."
   His face broke into a wide grin, and he wiped away a tear of joy.
   "It's a sign, from Heaven."
   
THE END

1 "chusing" quoted as spelled in the Constitution (since it is here being quoted).
2 Mark Twain's full quotation is: "I admire the serene assurance of those who have religious faith. It is wonderful to observe the calm confidence of a Christian with four aces." 
3 John Henry Cardinal Newman.
4 Attributed to John Heywood, 16th century British writer.
---------------

------------------------------------------------------------

---------------

------------------------------------------------------------

2


Chapter 1		2


2


Epilogue		2


2


2


2


2


2


2


2
	

			2


2


			2


2


2


2