Protect and Defend (35 page)

Watching, Martin Tierney was taut now. “Then let’s go back,” she told Lasch, “to the teenage girl raped by her own father. Same home pregnancy test, same positive result. Except this time—just to make sure—she goes to a doctor to confirm she’s pregnant.
That
doesn’t affect her moral right to an abortion, does it?”

Lasch grimaced. “No.”

“Okay. Now let’s toss in one more fact.” Pausing, Sarah spoke more softly yet. “Through a breakthrough in testing, the doctor predicts that the fetus—the product of rape and incest—is hydrocephalic. Can she abort the child
then
, Dr. Lasch?”

Sarah saw Martin Tierney rise to object, then realize how pointless this would be. Swallowing, Lasch choked, gazing up at Sarah with a look of trapped resentment. His voice faltered. “As I said … motivation is important.”

“Suppose the testing came out ‘normal.’ In your moral universe, is a victim of rape and incest entitled to abort a fetus with
no
disabilities whatsoever?”

Pride seemed to stiffen Lasch’s body and brighten his eyes. “Yes,” he said harshly. “I’ve told you that.”

“So she can abort a fetus on account of incest?”

“Yes.”

“Or economic hardship?”

“Yes.”

“Or because she’s a teenager and single?”

“Yes.”

“Or just because she’s pregnant, and doesn’t want to be?”

Lasch twisted his head, jaw tightening. “Yes.”

“For
all
those reasons,” Sarah said in a soft, remorseless voice, “or no reason at all. But only as long as she believes the fetus is normal.”

The resentment in Lasch’s eyes, Sarah supposed, reflected a lifetime of pain, of struggle, of believing—often with justice—that the world of the “normal” looked on him with scorn. “What I believe,” he said with palpable anger, “is that abortion should not be used to murder the disabled …”

“In other words, the only unwanted children women should be compelled to have are those with disabilities?”

“No,” Lasch snapped. “They shouldn’t use abortion to weed them out.”

“So a woman can have any abortion for
no
reason, but not the
wrong
reason.”

“You’re twisting my words, Ms. Dash. But, in essence— yes.”

“Isn’t the only way to ensure that, Dr. Lasch, to outlaw genetic testing? And, for that matter, sonograms?”

“That’s not my position …”

“But if Mary Ann Tierney never had a sonogram, she wouldn’t know she had a hydrocephalic fetus—true? She’d just have the child, and maybe never have another.”

Wincing, Lasch crossed his stunted arms. “Genetic testing,” he answered, “has humane uses. For example, it can help a mother face the fact of a disabled child.”

“The
inevitable
fact, in your universe. Because once she
knows
, she’s not allowed to abort the child, correct?”

Lasch’s eyelids twitched; once more, he looked painfully weary. “What I believe,” he said in a parched voice, “is that selective abortions of the disabled are morally wrong, and socially dangerous.”

“And, therefore, that they should be illegal?”

“Yes. Unless the life of the mother is actually at risk.”

“So you don’t agree with the Protection of Life Act, do you? Because it gives parents the right, on medical grounds, to approve the late-term abortion of a potentially disabled fetus.”

“I’m concerned about that aspect, yes.”

“In fact, you believe that no parent should have the authority to consent to an abortion because of fetal anomalies?”

“Not if that’s the reason.”

“And you also don’t distinguish between the moral wrong of aborting a fetus with blue eyes, and aborting one with multiple, painful, and hopeless disabilities.”

“What I said …” Lasch coughed, head lolling helplessly. “What I said,” he persisted, “is that one may lead to the other. And that both are morally wrong.”

“And yet you believe that abortion for economic reasons might be justified.”

“In some cases, yes.”

“But not where the economic reasons are the staggering expense to a family—with all the strains on marriage and child-raising—of dealing with a severely disabled child?”

The witness hesitated, wincing at a tremor which caused his body to shudder. Seeing this, Sarah allowed herself a moment of compassion: like anyone, Lasch’s beliefs were shaped by his emotions, and thus were flawed by them. But his emotions were bone deep, and to be confronted so publicly could only increase his physical and moral anguish. “I’m not saying they’re never justified,” he said at last. “Our country, including the pro-life movement, has failed to help families support and nurture the disabled—or to provide a caring surrogate if all else fails. For a specific family the financial burden may be overwhelming.”

“And who’s the judge of that, Dr. Lasch? The mother—or you?”

“Your Honor,” Martin Tierney interjected. “This is the harassment of a witness—who finds the very fact of testimony a challenge to his endurance—by means of hypothetical questions which don’t concern our daughter or our grandson. As a tactic, it’s deeply unfair to Dr. Lasch …”

“And deeply embarrassing to you,” Sarah retorted, turning to Leary. “Mr. Tierney hoped to enlist the disabled, and their genuine moral concerns, to help him compel Mary Ann to carry this fetus to term. But he overlooked problems with enforcing those concerns, as well as the latent inconsistencies in Dr. Lasch’s worldview. And now he doesn’t want them exposed.”

Leary nodded. “You may respond, Dr. Lasch.”

Lasch faced Sarah again. “No, Ms. Dash, I’m not the sole arbiter here. It’s up to society to frame the standards.”

“But you can’t tell me what those standards are. Or who within this society should frame them.”

Lasch stared at her. “That’s up to the legislature. With appropriate guidance.”

From whom?
Sarah wanted to ask. But it was better to move on. “In the absence of ‘guidance,’ Dr. Lasch, isn’t the only way for a woman to escape your moral—and possibly legal—judgment to avoid sonograms and genetic testing like the plague? Because if she knows her fetus is disabled, her motives for an abortion are suspect, regardless of what other reasons she may have.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair interpretation of my position.”

“Isn’t it?” Walking back to the table, Sarah gazed down at her notes. “Yet you commenced your direct testimony by saying that, quote,
‘It seems clear that the principal basis for your daughter’s lawsuit is not the extremely marginal threat to her reproductive capacity, but the “unacceptable nature” of her child.’
Clear to
whom
, Dr. Lasch?”

Again, Lasch licked his lips. “Clear,” he parried, “from the circumstances—”

“To
whom
,” Sarah snapped.

Lasch hesitated. “To me.”

Sarah glanced down at Mary Ann, and was touched by the gratitude she saw. Placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder, Sarah faced Lasch again. “Clear to you,” she repeated. “But you’ve never even met Mary Ann Tierney, have you?”

“No.”

“So you’ve never asked her what her motives are.”

“No.”

“But what you
do
know is that her fetus is hydrocephalic.”

“Yes. And that its threat to reproduction is, as I stated, ‘marginal.’”

“Marginal to whom?” Sarah asked with quiet anger. “You, again?”

“No. To her doctor.”

“All right, Dr. Lasch. I won’t bother asking you to wonder whether the risk of hysterectomy or secondary infertility would seem quite so marginal if you were Mary Ann. But we’re not talking about a baby with blue eyes, are we?”

“Of course not.”

“Or a Down’s syndrome child.”

“No.”

“Or even a child with Fraser’s syndrome, like ‘Miracle Kid.’”

“No.”

“We’re talking about Mary Ann Tierney’s prospective child—who, according to her doctor, will almost certainly never have a brain. And who, as you yourself assert, will quite likely die at birth.”

A flush stained Lasch’s hollow cheeks. “Yes,” he answered grudgingly.

Sarah remained where she was, beside Mary Ann. “And yet you assert that Mary Ann has no moral right to weigh that
child’s chance of living against her hope of bearing future children.”

Lasch’s jaw tightened. “Where her life is not at risk? No, she doesn’t.”

“But not—in your view—because the baby might be ‘normal’?”

“No.”

“No,” Sarah repeated. “You believe she has no moral right
because
her fetus likely has no brain. That’s not the choice your parents faced, is it?”

Lasch grimaced, looking down. His answer, “No,” was barely audible.

“Nor were you a threat to your mother’s fertility—correct?”

“Correct.”

“And when you were born, she was thirty-eight years old.”

For a moment, Lasch was silent; Sarah watched him process the fact that she had researched not just his writings, but his life. In the same near-whisper, he answered, “Yes.”

“Before that, your parents were childless.”

Plainly surprised, Lasch hesitated. “That’s true.”

“Though they had tried for years to have children.”

At the defense table, Martin Tierney gazed at the floor. Lasch’s chin rested on his chest. “Yes.”

“So just as your circumstances were different from those of this fetus, your
parents’
were far different from Mary Ann’s.”

Struggling, Lasch raised his head. “Personally,” he answered in a clear voice. “Not morally. That may sound harsh to you. But there’s a price we pay for a more compassionate society, and someone has to pay it—either the mother, or the child.”

Sarah looked at him in surprise; somehow, out of passion and pride, he had found a reserve of strength. “But can’t you acknowledge,” she asked, “that a more compassionate society can place a value on all life, yet recognize that the absence of a cerebral cortex is ruinous to the
quality
of a life? And that the resulting value of
that
life—to others and to itself—is far different than the value
of your
life?”

Silent, Lasch stared at her. As the quiet stretched, Tierney and Saunders formed a watchful frieze. In a trembling voice, Lasch said, “That’s not for us to judge.”

It was time to end this. “Then don’t judge Mary Ann,” Sarah told him, and sat down.

“I’
VE HAD
some disturbing news,” Macdonald Gage announced, “about the Masters nomination.”

Chad Palmer sat among his party colleagues in the ornate caucus room of the Russell Building, sipping the strong, black coffee that he favored in early mornings. It was eight o’clock and many of the fifty-four senators looked sleepy and quiescent. Leaning closer, his friend Kate Jarman of Vermont murmured in Chad’s ear, “Mac’s just found out she thinks we’re descended from apes. That’ll wake them up.”

Chad smiled at this; with her pixie looks and irreverent tongue, Kate—like the other independent souls who gravitated to Chad—shared his jaundiced views of Gage. But Kate knew, as did Chad, that the caucus Gage had called was aimed as much at Chad as Caroline Masters. Standing amidst the others, Gage shot Chad and Kate an admonitory glance.

“Yesterday,” he continued, “her court issued an opinion,
Snipes v. Garrett
, which guts last year’s Criminal Justice Act, and allows these endless lawsuits by career criminals who claim to be ‘mistreated.’

“Not only did Masters vote with the majority but, my sources tell me, she was instrumental in seeking to overturn a prior ruling by a strict constructionist judge.” Once again, he looked at Chad. “Bottom line, she looks pro-criminal.”

Chad summoned an expression of mild interest. But he felt himself tense; Gage had decided to escalate their war of nerves over Caroline Masters, and was using their colleagues to do it. “That’s one troubling aspect,” Gage went on, “of an emerging picture. We’re all getting bombarded with letters,
faxes, and e-mails on this Mary Ann Tierney case—Lord knows I am. The Protection of Life Act is where we’ve drawn the line with the pro-abortion movement: if we can’t protect minors, or ban this kind of butchery, we all should just go home.

“Now Masters says she can’t talk about that, and our friends in the White House say she’s clean on abortion. Maybe so, but there’s a pretty telling clue.” Hitching up his pants, Gage adopted the posture of a man with his feet, and his principles, firmly planted. “Mary Ann Tierney’s lawyer— a radical feminist named Sarah Dash—clerked for Caroline Masters.”

“Oops,” Kate Jarman whispered. But her eyes were wary; pro-choice on most issues, Kate had cast her vote for the Protection of Life Act as a political balm, hoping to heal her strained relations with the party’s right wing. Quickly, she asked Gage, “Is there anything more than that Judge Masters employed her?”

“I’ve made some independent inquiries. Seems like Masters and Sarah Dash still see each other.” Gage looked from senator to senator, as though gauging their reactions, then back at Kate again. “Maybe you’d give this woman a job, Kate, not knowing. But would you want her over for dinner? Let alone a week before Miss Dash files this grotesque lawsuit? Kind of makes you wonder what they talk about.”

This information came from Mace Taylor, Chad thought at once; Taylor had put up the money, and set detectives loose on Masters. His apprehension grew—if they knew who Caroline Masters had dinner with, they could surely find out about her daughter. Though not privy to his secret, Kate Jarman seemed more sober, as if she, like Chad, envisioned blood in the water.

“We should check out their relationship,” Gage concluded. “Before we make this woman Chief Justice, we need to know a whole lot more about who she really is.”

As always, Chad thought, Macdonald Gage was artful. Gage had not mentioned the confirmation hearings: in the guise of a leader dispensing information, he was hoping to build pressure on Chad from the other senators. Now Paul Harshman from Idaho, Chad’s chief antagonist on the committee,
asked rhetorically, “What about the hearing, Mac? Seems like that’s the key to everything.”

“Oh, I’ll leave that up to Chad.” Amiably, Gage turned to him. “What’s the timetable, Mr. Chairman?”