Balance of Power

TWENTY-THREE

On the morning that John Nolan cross-examined Dr. David Roper, the atmosphere in the sterile interior conference room of the Kilcannon Center was quiet, the cluster of lawyers sober and silent.

Roper was Sarah's final expert, a professor at Columbia with a doctorate in public health, whose work focused on refuting the assertion that increased gun ownership makes Americans safer. In manner, Roper was the opposite of Dr. Glass: clipped and precise, a scholar who conveyed his passion through a seriousness of speech and attitude. As an expert witness, Roper was allowed under Bond's order to review all depositions, and he had done so with great care. "What Fred Glass practices," he told Nolan flatly, "is theology, not science. The myth of self-defense is as essential to the SSA as the biblical theory of Creation is to fundamentalism: without it, their belief system—their whole rationale for being—crumbles."

Nolan studied him. "Why," he inquired, "do you call the belief in armed self-defense a myth?"

Dark and lean, Roper returned the intensity of Nolan's gaze. "Because it ignores what social scientists call 'opportunity theory': the more of something there is, the more that something is likely to be used. And misused.

"In particular, Dr. Glass overlooks how firearms enhance the opportunity to kill." Roper counted his points on the fingers of his left hand. "First, you can kill at a far greater distance. Second, you can kill at far greater safety to yourself. Third, you can kill with far more certainty. Fourth, the decision to kill becomes irrevocable far more quickly—unlike a knife, you can't pull back a bullet." Glancing at Harrison Fancher, he finished, "Using 'scientists' like Dr. Glass, the gun lobby not only perpetuates its myth of self-defense, it actually strips us of the means of genuine self-defense. Because it has the political power to convert quack science into tragedy."

"When you say 'quack science,' " Nolan asked with some asperity, "do you include Dr. Glass's testimony?"

The witness nodded briskly. "Fred Glass is the gun lobby's equivalent of the scientists the tobacco companies employed to 'disprove' that smoking causes lung cancer. Glass starts with the result he wants, then finds the 'facts' to support it."

Nolan's scrutiny of Roper became at once clinical, wary, and determined, as though he was resolved to learn the worst that faced him. "What has your research suggested regarding the correlation between public safety and gun ownership?"

"That gun ownership diminishes the public safety." Roper leaned on his elbows, hands clasped in front of him, intently watching his interrogator. "There are an estimated sixty-five million handguns in America. This is reflected in the high firearms death rate among our citizens, nearly fourteen per one hundred thousand people—as opposed to Canada's roughly four, Australia's three, and England's less than one.

"Compare Seattle with Vancouver, Canada. They are remarkably similar in about every respect save one: handguns are easy to obtain in Seattle, and tightly restricted in Vancouver. Their rates of crime and violence are also similar; indeed the rates of burglary, robbery, and assault are virtually identical. The only difference is that Seattle's homicide rate is sixty-three percent higher. Why? Because the rate of homicides with handguns is five times higher in Seattle . . ."

"What pertinence—if any—does the homicide rate in Seattle have to Mary Costello's claim against Lexington Arms?"

This time, Roper cupped his palms; the frequent movements of his hands, Sarah realized, bespoke a passion repressed. "There are several correlations. Last year, handguns like the Lexington P-2 were used to murder slightly over twelve hundred women. Fifty-six percent of those women were killed by husbands, live-in partners, or current or exboyfriends. And, like Bowden, one-third of those who murdered killed themselves.

"John Bowden was an adjudicated spousal abuser—that's a matter of public record. According to Ms. Costello's complaint, President Kilcannon asked the president of Lexington Arms, George Callister, to impose background checks at gun shows before its dealers could sell Lexington products. Callister declined. According to Ben Gehringer's deposition, Gehringer then sold the P-2 to John Bowden without a background check—Bowden having been drawn to the gun show by Lexington's ad." Roper's left hand clenched. "It's more than arguable that, without the ad, or with the background check, the seven people Bowden killed—including himself—might still be alive."

Nolan mustered a look of skepticism. "Is that the entirety of your opinion?"

"Not quite." Once more, Roper glanced at Harrison Fancher. "The SSA would have you believe that most homicides occur in the commission of a felony. Not true. Most homicides result from arguments between people who know each other, and the number of women shot to death by intimate partners is over four times greater than those killed by strangers." Pausing, Roper spoke more quietly. "As I said, that comes to over twelve hundred murdered women. Compared to twelve women who used guns to kill in self-defense.

"That's one hundred murdered women for every act of self-defense. But enough of numbers, Mr. Nolan. These are people we're talking about. The sixteen-year-old Japanese exchange student killed while looking for a Halloween party because he rang the wrong doorbell. The fourteen-yearold who her father mistook for an intruder and who died saying 'I love you, Daddy.' The twenty-year-old mother who thought she heard gravel crunching in the driveway, pulled out a gun without a safety lock, and killed her eight-month-old by accident. The countless times when 'selfdefense' turns out to be what happens when you arm drunkenness and anger with a gun.

"Triggers don't pull themselves, Mr. Nolan. But we're at far greater risk in the presence of a gun. That's why the most well armed country in the world is also the most deadly."

Listening, Sarah could only hope that Senator Fasano failed, and that Mary Costello's day in court would come. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw her assistant hovering with a look which combined urgency with hesitance at interrupting.

"Pardon us," she said to Nolan. Turning from his annoyed expression to Janet's worried one, she knew immediately what had happened.

"It's the phone call you were waiting for," Janet whispered.

* * *

Though they had not spoken since their meeting, Norman Conn blurted without preface, "I refused to meet with their lawyer—a man named Nolan."

The reedy tautness in his voice confirmed Conn's stress. Sarah glanced at the closed door of her office. "Who asked you?"

"Our general counsel. If I don't meet with them, they're going to depose me." His voice rose, quickening. "They say if I stole records or gave away corporate secrets, they can sue me and take the house I've had for twenty years."

To Sarah, the telephone felt like a copper wire, a conductor of Conn's tension. "I left you a message," she said, "referring you to a lawyer in Hartford who specializes in protecting the rights of whistleblowers . . ."

"I was going to see him." His voice broke. "Now I don't know."

Sarah paused, suspended between pity and desperation. Bent on his own redemption, Conn had disdained to fear the loss of something as trivial as a job. But one could fear things as simple, and as profound, as the loss of the familiar. A house.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But if they notice your deposition, you'll be required to testify under oath."

"What if you tell them I'm not going to be a witness?"

At once, Sarah was reminded of Martin Bresler. "I could do that. But I won't." Her voice was softer yet. "I'm sorry, Mr. Conn. But I have a duty to my client. I suggest you ask the lawyer I mentioned about how to protect your rights. Because I'll use those documents you gave me to make sure that you don't lie."

This was an empty threat, Sarah knew—a self-discredited witness was useless at trial. In Conn's silence, she wondered if he knew this.

"I understand," he answered with a croak which, nonetheless, had a measure of dignity. The line went dead before Sarah could say more.