Local Lit

The air conditioning did little to cool the enormous room, crowded with hot, testy people. It felt like sitting in a car on a hot summer day with the windows closed. Dan had told them that dressing for congressional hearings was important because C-SPAN, CNN and all the major networks would be airing it live and you never knew who might see you on television.

Claudia wore one of the few maternity outfits she had bought — an off-white linen pantsuit with a light beige blouse. Dan had on an elegant gray pinstriped suit that was making him sweat. Rita Jane, oblivious to Washington conventions, and not owning any suits, wore a brightly colored flowered skirt and white T-shirt.

Rita Jane had never been to a congressional hearing before and was acting like a child in a toy store, craning her head every which way to get a better look at the ornate gilding on the ceiling and the portraits hanging on the walls. Dan acted blasé, as if these hearings were an everyday occurrence, which she supposed they were. Claudia wiggled uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair, unsure if she was nervous, or just uncomfortable.

As the hour approached, members sauntered into the chamber carrying cups, presumably filled with coffee. Weymouth arrived promptly at 10 carrying only a note pad and pen. Two staffers followed behind him awaiting his instructions. Sitting at the center of the three-dozen committee members, he appeared like a king presiding over his court. He had subpoenaed 25 witnesses and what with taking breaks to go to the floor for votes or attending committee hearings on other pressing matters, the proceeding was expected to go until at least the Fourth of July recess.

The chairman pounded his gavel and launched into a speech about the importance of the matter before them. Claudia only half listened to the rhetoric. She was watching her nemesis, the U.S. Attorney. She thought of Emad in prison and his daughter crying herself to sleep every night and rage burned through her. She was pleased to see a hint of anxiety on his chiseled face.

Several members asked to make opening statements knowing that the hearing would be on every major news station and their constituents would be watching. It was past 10:30 before the questioning began.

The first witness was William Richards, the Deputy Attorney General in charge of the Criminal Division. “Mr. Richards,” the chairman boomed in his ominous voice. “Would you please tell the committee the nature of your work since September 11?”

Richards droned on about how he was the head of the terrorism unit and that his unit had been diligently investigating and prosecuting cases related to the September 11 attack or to individuals and organizations sympathetic to the people responsible for the attack.

“And one of these is Mr. Emad Khadonry.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Khadonry has been a long-time contributor to the organization Widows and Orphans, which is a front for Hamas.”

“And how is this related to the September 11 attack?” Weymouth asked testily.

“Since September 11 we have compiled a list of all organizations that give money to known terrorist organizations like Hamas. Widows and Orphans is one of them. Under the PATRIOT ACT, he can be prosecuted as providing material aid.”

“You still haven’t told me how Hamas is connected to the September 11 attack.”

“We are not just going after Al-Qaeda, but other terrorists, too. It’s all part of the war on terror.”

“You are comparing an organization that gives money to Widows and Orphans to Al-Qaeda?”

“No, I’m comparing Hamas to Al-Qaeda,” Richards said defensively.

“How many other Americans have donated money to Widows and Orphans?” Weymouth demanded.

“I’m sure there are many, but I can’t give you the exact figure.”

“You haven’t researched that in preparation for this hearing?” Weymouth asked accusatorily. Richards shook his head. “Would you like me to answer for you?” Weymouth asked. Without waiting for his, Weymouth said, “Two thousand, six hundred and fourteen.” Richard’s face reddened. He was fidgeting with a ballpoint pen. Weymouth continued. “Those are not all within your jurisdiction, of course, but within the District of Columbia there are over 100 people who have donated to the organization since September 11.” Weymouth paused for affect. “I’m curious to know why you decided to prosecute Mr. Khadonry, as opposed to the other 100 people in the district.”

“We had confidential information detailing his involvement with the organization that went beyond contributing money. We suspected that he might be funneling money through Widows and Orphans to fund terrorist training camps.”

“Do you have proof of this?” Weymouth asked.

Richards nodded, “I do, but I can’t disclose it because it’s confidential.”

“Not any longer,” Weymouth said. The audience laughed. Richards looked like he wanted to disappear. Claudia actually felt sorry for him.

“Did you make the decision to prosecute Mr. Khadonry?” Weymouth asked. Richards hesitated. “Please answer the question,” Weymouth said again raising his voice.

He shook his head from side to side.

“Let the record reflect that the witness is shaking his head no,” Weymouth said. “So the decision was made at a higher pay grade, eh?” Weymouth asked, his voice softening.

Richards nodded again. Weymouth snapped, “I’m going to have to ask you to speak up, sir, so that everything can be recorded for the record.”

“I’m sorry,” Richards said. “I was asked to bring the case by someone high up in the Justice Department.”

Weymouth paused to let that last remark sink in. He nodded his head. “And who was that?”

“Bai Quoung, Special Assistant to the Attorney General. Or rather, he was. He has since taken an appointment at a law school somewhere. I think Georgetown.”

“Did Mr. Quoung recommend prosecuting anyone else?”

“Yes, but so far we have not finished grand jury proceedings, so the information is not public.”

Weymouth cleared his throat. He took a sip of water and returned to questioning in an angry tone. “Is it possible that your office was motivated by the fact that Mr. Khadonry has been involved in anti-war protests?”

Richards flinched. “Of course not.” A buzz filled the room. Photographers flashed pictures and reporters scribbled furiously on their notepads.

“Right,” Weymouth said. “No further questioning.”

Other members picked up where Weymouth had left off. The Democrats had a field day attacking Richards. Some of the more conservative Republicans tried to rehabilitate Richards by tossing him softball questions, but even they were hesitant to make Weymouth look bad. Angering the Chairman could result in retaliation. Chairmen were
notorious for holding up bills of members who publicly crossed them.

At 12:30 Weymouth broke for lunch. Claudia was nibbling on a cracker in the hallway when Dan tapped her arm. “Weymouth wants to conference with us.” Claudia and Dan met him in his office behind closed doors. Rita Jane left to go to the cafeteria to stand in line and order lunch for the three of them.

Weymouth was waiting in his office with his door open. No staff was present.

“I’d like to call you as a witness, Dan,” Weymouth said, dispensing with formalities. “I’d like you to talk about the sneak and peak search the FBI did on your place. They were likely looking for political affiliations of yours and it makes Martin’s claim that they don’t consider things like that seem ridiculous.”

Claudia looked at Dan who was nervously rubbing his hands on his pants. “That’s okay with you, isn’t it?” Weymouth demanded.

Dan looked at Claudia as if searching for permission and she nodded and steeled herself. “There’s something you should know, Congressman.” Weymouth’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t say anything. “They were searching my apartment because of my relationship with Claudia. They were looking for information about her.”

Weymouth burst out laughing. Dan looked mortified, but then Claudia started laughing and Dan eventually joined in, too. When Weymouth had finally regained his composure he gasped, “How scandalous. The lobbyist for OutReach had a heterosexual affair. The media will have a field day with that.” Then his face grew serious and he looked at Claudia, “You’re not. Because of him are you?”

Claudia nodded.

“This is getting weirder by the minute,” Weymouth said.

Claudia and Dan both nodded.

“Okay, I’ve got to think about this. The reporters may get a hold of this story and investigate until they find something. If the FBI knew about your affair it may come out.”

Neither Claudia nor Dan said anything, but she suspected he was dreading that outcome as much as she was.

“I’ll think about it some more,” Weymouth repeated. “I’m not going to call you today, Claudia, so you are free to leave. Of course, you are welcome to stay.”

“Thank you,” she said. Weymouth stood up, walked to the door, and opened it for them. “Thank you very much,” he said, shaking their hands. After they left, Weymouth closed the heavy door behind him, but Claudia thought she heard him laughing inside.