Directed Verdict by Randy Singer

furrowed her brow and took her turn staring at the river. “I would argue the implicit waiver clause—that when other nations torture U.S. citizens in violation of jus cogens norms, they waive their immunity from suit. This theory has never been squarely addressed by the U.S. Supreme Court. I would stress the fact that Charles and Sarah Reed were U.S. citizens tortured for religious reasons and that our courts have a special role to play when the fundamental rights of U.S. citizens are involved.”
    Brad thought about this for a moment. “Oh, you mean the Strobel argument.”
    Leslie winced. “Yeah, I guess so. But I’d prefer not to call it that.”
    “Call it anything you want, as long as it works.”
    “I didn’t say it would work. Only that it was our best argument.”
    “What are our chances?” Brad asked. He sat up straighter, taking a big bite of a crab-cake sandwich. “I’m ready.”
    “What?”
    He chewed for a minute, then swallowed hard. He chased the sandwich with a gulp of tea. “I said . . . I’m ready. I just want to know what our chances are.”
    Leslie put down her fork. This was not going as she had planned. “Nearly impossible. Didn’t you hear me? Brad, every effort by every lawyer to haul a foreign government into court based on human rights violations for the past hundred years has been unsuccessful. And there are lots of cases with facts every bit as horrible as yours.”
    She said it with an edge. And either the tone or the bluntness of the assessment caused a long silence between the two. Leslie became uncomfortable and resumed working on her meal. Brad gazed down the river some more.
    After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. “There’s got to be a first time,” he mumbled.
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Leslie, with every new breakthrough for justice, there’s got to be a first time. How do you think we got our civil rights laws? Some lawyers were sitting around, just like we are today, knowing they had justice on their side, but not the law. That didn’t stop them, because they knew the law was meant to serve justice, not the other way around. I know this may sound corny, but it’s true. Ninety-nine percent of the lawyers in the world see the law as it is, but the few really great ones see the law as it ought to be.”
    Brad spoke as if the law were a sacred thing. He leaned forward, his voice reverent, barely above a whisper, and suddenly Leslie saw Bill leaning toward her, his voice coming out of the past full of captivating idealism. She gasped before she could stop herself.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    Leslie felt her cheeks grow hot. “Nothing,” she murmured. “You were saying?”
    Brad now focused on the horizon and continued in the same passionate tone. “Most lawyers think the laws are written in law books, but a few lawyers understand that the fundamental laws of justice are carved deep in the human spirit, that the law books just try to capture those transcendent laws that are already there. And when the laws on the books don’t match what justice requires, you change the laws on the books, not the definition of justice.
    “You wait your whole career for a case like this. There’s got to be a first time, Leslie. And I think this case just might be it.”
    Brad finished his impromptu speech, and more silence followed. He fixed his gaze on Leslie, beseeching her with his steel blue eyes. It was, without a doubt, one of the most intense looks she had ever experienced—one of the most intense feelings she had ever felt.
    She couldn’t look away.
    Get a grip, Connors, she told herself. It’s just a case. It’s not a crusade, and it won’t bring world peace. He’s just another guy.
    Yeah, right.
    “If I decide to go tilting after these windmills,” Brad was asking, “will you join me? I could really use your help on the research. And I’ll pay twenty bucks an hour.”
    Leslie had predicted this scenario. She had practiced saying no the entire