Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Leo turned and looked at Ethan.

"Contact the Republican Party."

"We’ll work with them to take down Campbell and ruin the reputation of the Democratic Establishment Faction."

"But in exchange, I need the Republican Party’s votes in the special election for Acting President of the Senate. All of them, for William Saint Cloud."

Ethan took a deep breath.

They weren’t just going to replace the Governor and the Vice Governor; they were even going to drag the Attorney General into it.

They were going to use Republican votes to elect a Democrat as Acting President of the Senate, and then have him pardon an activist who had assassinated a capitalist.

This completely shattered traditional party lines. They were weaving the left wing, the right wing, capitalists, and politicians—all of them—into one great web.

The air in the office was heavy.

Ethan stood before the whiteboard, his fingers unconsciously tracing the circled word: "Pardon."

Although he himself had proposed this bold, almost insane plan, it was a professional habit driven by his instincts as chief of staff—to find the optimal solution for his boss.

But now that the plan was about to be implemented, now that the names and arrows on the paper were about to become a real-life political earthquake, he felt a visceral resistance.

"Leo."

Ethan’s voice was low.

"Are we really going to do this? Pardon an assassin who killed someone in broad daylight?"

"Legally, this is crossing a line. We’re using politics to trample the judiciary. It will open Pandora’s box."

Leo was a little surprised by Ethan’s reaction.

’Mr. President, why is he acting like this?’

Leo asked Roosevelt in his mind.

’He was the one who came up with this plan, and now he’s arguing against his own idea? Is he schizophrenic?’

Roosevelt chuckled. ’No, Leo. This isn’t schizophrenia. This is human nature.’

’Look at him. A top student from Harvard Law School, an elite raised on grand words like law, order, and justice. His left brain is filled with centuries of case law and the spirit of the Constitution, telling him that procedural justice is paramount.’

’But his right brain is filled with his desire for victory, his loyalty to you, and the survival instincts he’s developed from crawling through this muck.’

’That’s what it is to be human.’

’Out of the crooked timber of humanity, no straight thing was ever made.’

’We swing between reason and desire, struggling between morality and survival. We’ll do despicable things for noble causes, and noble things for despicable ones.’

’Ethan’s conflict right now is proof that he’s still a living, breathing person.’

Roosevelt reminded him, ’You need to guide him.’

’You need to give him an out, a reason that lets his legal-minded brain rest easy on this dirty pillow.’

Leo came back to the present and looked at Ethan, whose brow was tightly furrowed.

"Ethan, you tell me. In a country that prides itself on the rule of law, why does the Constitution retain the power of pardon, something that seems like a relic from the age of monarchs?"

Ethan was silent for a moment.

"Because the law is just cold text."

Ethan said slowly, as if reciting from a textbook, or perhaps justifying it to himself.

"The essence of fairness is to correct the defects of the law that arise from its universality. A pardon is considered a final act of mercy, used to rectify trials that, while procedurally legal, result in extreme injustice."

"Exactly." Leo nodded. "What else?"

"And politics," Ethan continued. "Hamilton made it clear in The Federalist Papers. In times of great social unrest, a pardon is a weapon for restoring peace to the nation. It allows the chief executive to use clemency in exchange for political reconciliation."

"So, it’s not surprising."

Leo stood up and walked over to Ethan.

"The power of pardon is, in essence, a remnant of sovereignty. In this country, it’s a residual power that transcends the law, granted by the people to the head of the executive branch."

"We are now using this power to correct a much greater wrong."

"But..." Ethan’s eyes showed his struggle. "Luigi killed someone. That’s a fact. If we pardon him, we’re telling everyone that, under certain circumstances, assassination can be forgiven."

"That will shake the very foundations of the social contract, Leo. If citizens no longer renounce private revenge, if everyone just picks up a gun to solve their problems, then what’s the point of the law?"

"The social contract?"

Leo sneered.

"When Arthur Vance sat in his office, signing claim denials with his pen and condemning thousands of patients to death, where was the social contract then?"

"When the law protects that butcher but punishes the one who tried to fight back, the contract has already crumbled."

"Luigi was acting to restore substantive justice."

Leo stared into Ethan’s eyes.

"If the system itself is killing people through legal logic, then killing the system’s representative is self-defense."

Ethan opened his mouth, his mind flooded with a thousand counterarguments, but he couldn’t voice a single one.

"But, Leo, have you thought about the consequences?"

"If we set this precedent, a pardon will no longer be a merciful remedy, but a tool for partisan warfare. Today we pardon Luigi; tomorrow other politicians could pardon their thugs, or even terrorists."

"This will create a massive broken windows effect."

"Even worse..." Ethan’s voice trembled. "This will encourage violent revolution. We’d be telling society that as long as the motive is noble, murder can be forgiven. That allows the rule of law to give way to the law of the jungle."

Leo listened quietly.

He knew Ethan was right about everything.

From a legal standpoint, this was playing with fire. It was destroying the very foundations of the rule of law.

"Ethan."

Leo’s hand clamped down on Ethan’s shoulder, the force of it pinning him in place.

"I understand all the risks you’ve mentioned."

"But we have no way to retreat."

"In this cruel jungle, only those who hold the knife have the right to talk about the rules."

"Do you want to protect your ideals, or do you want to win this war?"

Ethan looked at Leo.

He saw the ambition burning in those eyes—something hotter and more dangerous than any legal statute.

"...I understand."

Ethan lowered his head.

"Get the car ready," Leo said.

"I’m going to see Evelyn."

"I’m going to tell her myself that her cousin is about to get a promotion."