The disgust was like a bile, a feeling so strong it manifested itself as a reaction inside her body. Meina Gladstone had approached this moment with the same calm, cool, pragmatism she utilized in law school, but the preparations and years of dedication almost made the words being spoken by the judge cut through her cold exterior and unleash the torrent of rage she had carried for so many years.
In a land of individual choice, with judicial precedence founded on the idea that each and every man woman and child was created equal and granted with the power to determine their own destiny, their own interpretation of the American Dream, Meina had never found freedom. No matter what tactic she employed, be it reason, empathy, sympathy, justice, or anger, her opinion was always stifled. No matter how much she disagreed, no one ever gave an inch of ground.
This across the board defiance had inspired her. A middle of the road student as an undergraduate, Meina achieved the grades necessary to get into New York University Law School, where she worked tirelessly with her professors to achieve academic excellence. Within four years, she had achieved every possible academic merit possible at the school, and graduated as Salutorian. Though she delivered a short and somewhat lackluster speech, her professors were hopeful about Meina’s future. Perhaps careers in Education or Social Policy, as those were the two issues that seemed to energize her the most while at the University.
However, the mere fact that people were guessing which direction she would go befuddled many of her alumni. A driven young woman, who never looked into apprenticeships at any firm, or even negligible ties to any sort of campus community, was unheard of at NYU. In a profession with upward mobility and opportunity controlled by who you knew, Meina seemed to be treading in uncertain waters.
Three years later, she finally brought her case to the District Court of Northern California. Her unusual move to enter a personal claim against the Federal Government, and then choose to represent herself, drew media attention to the case. The normally sleepy, wood paneled halls in San Francisco had been abuzz for weeks, with CNN and FOX news channels speculating on what the decision in her case would mean for the interpretation of the 1st and 9th Amendments. With constitutional challenges already creating hype because of gun control and immigration, Meina’s case added fuel to the fire, and the press loved it.
After three weeks of testimony, both the prosecution and the defense rested their cases. The judge took the rest of the day to deliberate, and resumed the trial the next morning. At 8:03 am, he announced, “I have ruled the defendant, not guilty”.
Her disgust was palpable, and the TV cameras showed a woman who didn’t think twice about broadcasting her disdain for the judge’s opinion. Walking quickly out the huge oak doors and onto Golden Gate Avenue in order to avoid a TV interview, Meina promised herself she would move the case to the 9th Circuit, and appeal all the way to the Supreme Court. It was not the route she had hoped for, but one she had planned contingencies around. Her grey eyes had finally cooled, the rage contained, the ice back in her stare.
-Grace
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