Halfway to Forever (34 page)

The jurors were clearly spellbound. Across the room Matt saw the opposing attorneys scribbling furiously on their legal pads. He leaned against the jury box and positioned the document in his hands so the jury could see it. “This is a letter Pastor Carson received from the Benson City Council eight months after he and the First Church of the Valley—a Christian congregation—began renting out the Benson City Hall.”

He glanced at the document, holding it in the air just in front of his face so he had no trouble reading it. “ ‘Dear Mr. Carson, this is to inform you that your right to meet at the Benson City Hall has hereby been reneged due to a lease violation by you and your group.’ ” Matt raised an eyebrow at the jury and then returned his attention to the letter. “ ‘Our records show that because of this violation, the city of Benson owes you and your organization no money in refunded lease payments. This enforcement goes into effect immediately, as your time slot at City Hall will be filled by another organization this coming Sunday. Sincerely, the Benson City Council.’ ”

Matt went on to explain how the letter took the First Church of the Valley by surprise.

“See—” he gazed at the jurors—“the church leaders had missed the clause at the end of the lease agreement. They had no idea why they were in violation of the lease.” Matt paced several steps back and forth, making eye contact with each of the jurors. Any doubts they may have had about him and his argument were dissolving like sugar in water.

The church, Matt told them, had paid one year’s rent up front—seven hundred dollars per month for a total of $8,400. “In addition to kicking the church out of their rented facility with virtually no
warning because of a lease clause that clearly violates the U.S. Constitution—” he paused for effect—“the Benson City Council made the poor decision to keep thousands of dollars in lease money. Even though the building was no longer available to the church.”

For the next twenty minutes Matt gave the jury the gist of the story, the fact that Pastor Carson contacted the City Council and talked to a secretary who told him about the overlooked clause in the lease and then added, “Your church’s name convinced us you wouldn’t be in violation.”

Matt allowed his tone to grow incensed for a moment, and he could read the same emotion in the eyes of several jurors. “The church’s
name?”
He shook his head. “In other words, since the name Christ or Jesus wasn’t in the name of Pastor Carson’s church, the Benson City Council thought they were safe. Safe enough that they didn’t need to check what doctrine was being preached each Sunday.” He shifted his weight and cocked his head. “But then someone told someone, and they told someone else, and the Sunday before Pastor Carson’s church lost their lease, three members of the Benson City Council showed up at the Sunday service.”

Matt prayed his closing words would leave an impression. “This was a case, ladies and gentlemen, that
had
to be brought to trial. Because the Benson City Council had the audacity to make a law prohibiting the free exercise of religion—in this case, the Christian religion. An action that flies in the face of our Constitution and everything this country stands for. An action our founding fathers hoped to avert when they wrote the First Amendment.”

He paced to the far end of the jury and noticed that each pair of eyes followed him. “We cannot allow that, friends. Not here, not in Benson. Not anywhere in the United States. Because once we let our government decide what’s acceptable in church meetings
taking place in City Halls, we’re only a short jump to letting them decide what’s acceptable in churches.” Matt’s voice rang with sincerity. “And that would mean everything our forefathers stood for, every battle fought in the name of freedom, would be for nothing.”

Matt shrugged one shoulder. “And so, honestly, ladies and gentlemen, this is not a case about separation of church and state. It’s a case about standing up for freedom. My freedom, your freedom.” He pointed to the front row of spectators where Pastor Carson was seated next to his wife among fifty people from First Church of the Valley. “Their freedom. On that note, we are not only asking that this church be allowed to maintain their lease with the Benson City Hall. We’re asking for damages. Certainly the money kept by the city these past months, when Pastor Carson’s church has had to meet in various less desirable facilities. But also punitive damages.”

He glanced at the attorneys for the city of Benson and several City Council members seated behind them. “Because what the Benson City Council did in this matter is inexcusable and deserves some type of punishment. That way word will get out: We’re serious about freedom in America. Dead serious.” He gripped the jury box and looked at them with a heart full of compassion. “You can’t write laws that fly in the face of the Constitution and expect that act of defiance to go unpunished.” There was a beat. “Each of you is here today to carry on where Thomas Jefferson and his peers first began. Protecting freedom for this generation and every generation after it.” Matt nodded. “Thank you.”

The lead attorney for the City of Benson was an older, distinguished man whose tone was irritating and who focused on the appearance of things. Leasing City Hall to a Christian church would give the appearance of state-sponsored religion; allowing
First Church of the Valley to preach Jesus Christ as the only way to salvation would give an appearance of narrow-mindedness, a lack of political tolerance. The entire matter gave the public the appearance that the Benson City Council had crossed the line between church and state. The attorney barely brushed over the fact that Pastor Carson had signed the lease agreement, binding him to whatever stipulations it contained. If a clause in the contract violated the U.S. Constitution—as Matt was suggesting—the fact that the pastor signed it would be of no significance.

Matt took notes and knew exactly how he’d play out the examination phase. His witnesses were simple, trusting people. People like Pastor Carson, who had never intended to rile up a case that was drawing sparks of national attention; and the church secretary, who kept the books and related in chilling detail the fact that the Benson City Council had no intention of refunding the church’s lease money or restoring its lease unless, “You people stop talking about Jesus Christ.”

Throughout his examination, Matt inserted questions involving the appearance of things. “So did the Benson City Council give you the appearance of not returning your lease money?”

“No. They actually didn’t return it. They kept it even though we’d done everything right. Everything except preach the doctrine they wanted us to preach.”

And to Pastor Carson, “Once the clause about doctrine was pointed out to you, did you feel it gave the appearance of discriminating against your group because of your religious views?”

Two people in the jury box stifled a giggle, and Matt knew they understood the point he was trying to make. Pastor Casey twisted his forehead into a grid of lines. “The appearance? I’d say it was more like the left foot of fellowship. We were kicked out of that building because of what we believed. Appearances had nothing to do with it.”

Halfway through the first day, Matt had no doubts whatsoever that he would win the case. The jurors were bored and often hostile to the cross-examinations of the Benson attorneys. Every question they asked just looked like another attack on what the people at First Church of the Valley believed, and though the jurors may not have believed the same way, they had clearly caught Tanner’s vision about standing up for freedom of choice. Whether that choice involved believing in Jesus Christ or not.

Attorneys for the Benson City Council brought very few witnesses, none of whom were effective. Matt tried to keep a straight face while the examination took place, and rarely bothered to add anything on the cross-examination. There was no point. With each passing hour the jurors were looking at their watches, appearing bored.

Each night back at his hotel room, Matt would call Hannah and give her the report. “You can’t believe how well it’s going.” His heart soared with the way the case was progressing. “There were a dozen newspapers there today, and tomorrow we’re expecting at least one national news show.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Usually they’d be coming to watch us lose, to witness another church group take a fall. But this time they’re on our side. Can you believe it? We’re not defending religion this time around; we’re defending America. The word’s getting out, and everyone wants a piece of the story.”

He could hear Hannah clap her hands in the background. “Oh, Matt, it’s just like Tanner dreamed it would be.”

“Have you told him?”

“Every day when I go to the hospital.” Her tone grew more somber. “I think it’s helping him get through the week.”

Matt leaned back on his hotel pillow and kicked his feet up. “You must have everyone we know praying.”

The trial wrapped up late Thursday and deliberations began Friday morning. One of the jurors wore a T-shirt that bore the American flag and the words, “United We Stand.” Matt took it as a good sign.

The judge informed the jury that First Church of the Valley was seeking fifty thousand dollars punitive damages, but that it was up to the jury to decide the actual amount—higher or lower.

Tanner had called Matt the night before after seeing a segment about the case on the evening’s national news. “Hey, I heard the highlights of your closing arguments on CBS.” Tanner sounded tired, but there was no denying his enthusiasm. “You’re brilliant, buddy. I could never have pulled it off so well.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Matt grinned into the phone. “I’m only imitating everything I’ve ever seen or heard from you.” Matt hesitated, his voice softer. “Hey, how’s Jade?”

Tanner paused and Matt figured he was struggling to speak. “She’s … she’s very sick, Matt. The treatment is tearing her up. Hurry home, will ya?”

“You tell her to hang in there. I’ll be there the minute I’m done.”

Throughout deliberations, Matt interviewed with thirteen local and national news anchors and a handful of print reporters. He answered questions about expectations and the Constitution and national freedom, but he refrained from predicting a certain victory. His experience had been that no matter how sure the win, the jury should break the news first.

Finally, at just after four o’clock, the jury foreman notified the court clerk that they’d reached a decision. Matt was almost always anxious at this point in a trial. Bird-sized butterflies would attack his gut the same way they’d done before every basketball game he ever played in. This time, though, the butterflies were still.

In their place was the familiar calm that had comforted him all week. Matt knew it was because people were praying: Hannah and Tanner and the staff at the firm. Even Jade, sicker than she’d ever been, had sought God’s divine help for this trial. And only God could have pulled off the type of trial and the accompanying media interest that had taken place that week.

Matt took his seat at the plaintiff’s table and watched the jury file in. Several of them cast confident glances in Matt’s direction. The clerk took the decision from the jury foreman and handed it to the judge. With little fanfare, he revealed the outcome.

“We, the jury, find in favor of the plaintiff. In doing so we agreed that the defendant must award the plaintiff—” The judge paused and appeared to study the number. Matt’s eyes were glued to the man, urging him to continue. The judge cleared his throat and looked at Benson’s attorneys. “Five hundred thousand dollars … half to be paid up front, and thereafter five years of fifty-thousand-dollar payments until the judgment is paid in full.”

The moment the judge spoke the words
five hundred thousand dollars
, Matt let his held breath out and thanked God. Thanked Him because this case would have a ripple effect that would be unprecedented in the fight for religious freedom. And a half-million dollar judgment? It would put every civil rights group and governing body in the country on alert that the time had come to back off. Americans had the right to practice their religious freedom. In a church … in a school … in a public building. Even in a rented City Hall.

Matt could hardly wait to tell Tanner.

Interviews with reporters took place immediately after the verdict, and time and again Matt gave credit to God and Tanner.

“No one understands the severity and importance of our battle to maintain religious freedom in this country like Tanner
Eastman.” Matt looked straight at the cameras, believing every word. “This was his strategy, his victory. I’m glad for the chance to carry it out.”

The media circus over what had happened took three hours to die down. Of course, it all paled in comparison to the vigil being held at Jade’s bedside several states away. Back at his hotel room later that evening, Matt tossed his things in his suitcase and took a shuttle to the airport.

By ten o’clock he was on a flight home.

H
annah’s desire to help Jade had been there long before Matt left for Colorado.

Despite the joy of having Kody as their son, Hannah’s heart ached almost constantly for Jade. Yet until Matt returned from Colorado, Hannah couldn’t think of anything tangible she could do. In fact, if anything, she felt more disconnected than ever. Here it was, the most trying, painful time in Jade’s life, and Hannah was busy buying blue bedding and baby bottles.

And with Matt gone, she’d had no time to do anything but care for Kody.

Now that he was home, she had an idea, something she could do that just might make all the difference for Jade. That Sunday morning, the day before Jade’s surgery, Hannah called Pastor Steve at church and told him her plan.

“I want to form a prayer chain for Jade Eastman. Different from any prayer chain ever done before.”

During announcements that morning, Pastor Steve explained the plan to the congregation. Hannah listened, praying they would catch her vision.

“You’ve heard of prayer chains before,” the pastor told them. “Well, Hannah Bronzan has put together something a little different. It’s called the Jade Chain.”