Chapter Twelve
MATT BRANSON’S DISCOMFORT with John Knox Smith’s actions continued to grow. He had first felt the disquiet many months before when John pumped him for information about Pat Preston. Alarm bells sounded then but nothing came of it. Nothing that would involve the Office of Professional Responsibility. Nonetheless, John’s recent tactics left Matt puzzled and concerned.
How could his old friend have gone so far? Each month convinced Matt that John was not an advocate of tolerance but intolerance, and he seemed incapable of seeing the dichotomy. Matt was certain about one thing: John wasn’t the same person he knew in college. The fact that three of the highest-ranking officials in Washington had praised John so lavishly, giving him their seal of approval, was impressive, but the things Matt was hearing about John and the cases he pursued troubled him.
Matt kept an eye on everything John did. Partly because it was his job to do so. His office was what kept powerful DOJ employees from overstepping their authority.
The distance between them grew. Their once-weekly lunches and twice-monthly trips to the art museum became less frequent. Weekly lunches soon became monthly lunches. It had been a while since he and John had walked the shiny floors of the National Gallery of Art.
Rumors floated through the halls of the DOJ and Matt was having trouble ignoring them. The news reports about DTED operations in the South made Matt wonder all the more about what John was really up to. Those concerns magnified when he overheard part of a conversation between a pair of young men at a restaurant in Old Town Alexandria. He assumed they were college students.
One young man sat at the bar, a few steps from where Matt was having a late dinner before returning to the office to finish some paperwork. The young man wore jeans and a Washington Nationals tee-shirt. His sneakers looked like the kind that cost more than a decent business suit.
“I’m totally up against the wall, man.”
His friend wore a tee-shirt with the name of a party town in Florida emblazoned on it. “Did Clint find out you put the moves on his girl?”
“I wish it were that simple. I posted something on my blog. I mean, I was just joking around? Next thing I know I’m in trouble with the law.”
The friend studied the young man as if trying to figure out the punchline to the joke. “Geez, you really are scared. What’d ya post, dude?”
“All I said was I was afraid the homos were taking over the country. I mean, it was a joke! You know me. I’m not a hater. I was going for a laugh.”
“Did anyone laugh?”
“No. It was stupid. I may have had a few too many beers.”
“Ya think?”
“A couple of days later this guy from DTED Hate Crimes calls me at home and goes totally berserk. A couple of days after that, I get this long, threatening letter from some guy, Smith or something like that, and before I know it, all these detectives are snooping around. I mean, they’ve got everything but tracker dogs on my tail.”
Smith? John Knox Smith? It fits with the DTED Hate Crime visits. Matt gazed at the meatloaf and potatoes on his plate. He had planned to go back to the office, but home was looking better.
That bit of conversation captured Matt’s attention. It also started him thinking about the policies John and his team were carrying out. He grew concerned about how the tactics the agency was using affected real people.
Matt had been tracking John and DTED but no more than he might anyone else in DOJ who might cross the line. He wasn’t running an investigation, just gathering enough information to see if there was a problem. Over the last few months, Matt had become more suspicious. If asked to do so, he couldn’t muster enough evidence to warrant an investigation, but maybe he had been too superficial. He was beginning to suspect something improper was going on, and if so, then it was his job to investigate.
For the first time, Matt had to consider that his old friend John Knox Smith might be more than a zealot; he might be a very dangerous man.
THE DICHOTOMY BETWEEN Matt’s beliefs and John’s made him think of his experiences at the Madison Scholars Academy during his student days. The Alliance believed what Jesus said in John 14:6, “I am the way, the truth, and the life: No one comes to the Father except through Me.” They believed that Jesus is the only way to God, and even defended that view openly. Their theme verse was John 15:5, “I am the vine, you are the branches, apart from Me you can do nothing.” The old John would debate the issue and probably mock it; today’s John would blow a fuse.
There were probably a few ministries in the country that could withstand a full-scale assault from a big agency like DTED, but they’d better have some pretty good ammunition. Matt knew the Alliance had plenty. On his first day that summer in Chicago, he had heard the group’s then-head, Alex Stanton, describe how they worked. What got his attention was hearing that the Alliance believed that God favored their efforts. For someone like John, having a Bible verse as an organization’s motto would be a big enough threat. But saying that God is blessing their efforts?
One of the instructors in Matt’s seminar at Madison characterized John’s way of thinking well when he said, “Most of these people know what Christianity teaches. What they oppose isn’t religion. They certainly don’t oppose what we would call loosey-goosey liberal Christianity. What they oppose is Jesus on the cross with his arms extended to embrace the world. What they’re against is the claim that Christianity has something to offer, and requires us to respond.”
When someone asked if they thought there was some sort of conspiracy to wipe out Christianity, the lecturer said he didn’t believe that. “Our opponents don’t have a problem with religion,” he had explained. “But Christians claim to have the Truth—Truth with a capital T. That’s what they hate. They much prefer the view that Christianity is just one of many paths. If it’s no big deal and one ‘truth claim’ is as good as another, then there’s nothing to argue about. But if we believe and publicly proclaim Jesus is the way to heaven, then we’ve got a problem.”
Matt learned there were dozens of legal battles about those issues taking place all over the country. Alliance lawyers were engaged in as many as four hundred lawsuits and legal challenges every day of the year. Meanwhile, the Alliance had become the largest religiously oriented legal group in the world. They weren’t fooling around.
For nearly three decades they had been doing strategy, training, funding, and legal advocacy for cases involving religious liberty, traditional marriage, family, and life issues such as abortion and euthanasia. One area where they were particularly successful was equal access cases in which they defended the right of Christian groups on university and public school campuses to have access to the same facilities and opportunities as any other group.
In their first ten years, the Alliance had taken on and funded more than three hundred equal access cases, including six that went to the Supreme Court. The Court recognized their standing and their right to bring actions challenging a lower court’s ruling. All but one of the equal access cases in which petitions of certiorari were granted by the Supreme Court, meaning they’d hear the appeal, were litigated by the Alliance attorneys. The justices took the cases in order to settle the matter of equal access, and they decided the Alliance cases were the best to use to decide the issues.
By the time Matt attended the Academy, they had already taught more than two thousand lawyers how to mount a defense and bring legal actions in their legal areas. In addition, more than twelve hundred law students from the best schools in the country had gone through the Madison Scholars Academy just as Matt had. Matt felt lucky to have been one of them. Yet, outside Christian circles, hardly anybody had heard of them, which is why Matt began to think John and the DTED agents had been ignoring them for so long. No one in Matt’s law class at Michigan could understand why he wanted to go to Chicago for a summer program like that in the first place.
Matt compiled the information he had been gathering on John and DTED. It was not a t
rue “file.” He wasn’t investigating John. What Matt gathered was material to keep him informed and up-to-date on one of the major departments of the DOJ. Complaints about DOJ attorneys frequently came across his desk, most of which could be dismissed quickly as cranks or revenge by those being prosecuted. Still, he had to admit he was growing uncomfortable with what he was reading.
A thought surfaced so suddenly it took him by surprise: I once said I want my life to matter. I want my faith and my legal training to count for something. And now I’m finding out that one of my friends is in charge of what might be the biggest threat to Christian beliefs since the age of martyrs. Can I just stand by and watch that happen?
Another unwelcome thought took root: Had John been keeping lunch dates with me so he’d have a friend, an inside source to how the Office of Professional Responsibility was responding to his actions?
The next evening Matt went back to the restaurant in Old Town in hopes of finding the young man he had overheard. Thanks to a helpful waiter, he eventually came up with a name. Back at the office he was able to locate the young man’s address and phone number on the Internet. He placed a call and explained his reason for doing so. They agreed to meet confidentially the following day.
Matt had to think twice before taking this step. The Justice Department had a strict rule prohibiting government lawyers from pursuing a case that might be detrimental to the department. Matt was not one to even stretch, much less break, an ethics rule. Since, at the moment, there was no case, Matt decided to move ahead. If things turned out as bad as Matt feared, then he might have to make some life-changing decisions. In the meantime, he would at least find out what the young man had done and why he felt threatened. Matt knew it was risky, but he also knew he couldn’t look the other way—not any longer.
Matt drove to Alexandria at the appointed time. The coffee shop bustled with activity. Having eaten here before, Matt knew the place was busy and noisy—just what he wanted.
“You couldn’t have chosen a quieter place?” Zach Willard asked.
Matt studied Zach for a moment. He was thin, fighting a skin condition, and had nervous eyes. After what he had been through, Matt didn’t blame him for being on edge. “Sometimes noise is good.”
Zach blinked several times. “Ah, I get it. You don’t want to be overheard. Why?”
“How old are you, Mr. Willard?”
“Twenty-two. I’m a junior in college.” He paused. “I started a little late.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Did you bring the letter Mr. Smith sent you?”
“Yeah.” Zach pulled it from the back pocket of his jeans and shoved it across the table. Matt pulled the rumpled page closer. It bore the DOJ letterhead. “You guys scared me to death. It was all just a joke.”
“Thank you, Mr. Willard.”
“Look, can you call me Zach? I feel like I’m on trial here.”
Matt smiled. “Sure, Zach, and you’re not on trial. I’m not here to harass you.”
“Then why are you here? I mean, I want to cooperate as much as I can, but I’m a little confused. I mean, you guys came on pretty strong.”
“I can’t go into detail, Zach. I’m just following up on the activities of some of DOJ staff. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so. I went to your blog site and didn’t see the piece that started all the trouble.”
“Are you kidding, man? After the phone call from your Justice Department goons… I mean, people, I yanked that down as fast as I could. I want nothing more to do with that stupid blog post.”
“But you brought me a copy, right?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure I should give it to you. You might try to use it against me.”
“It’s smart to be cautious, but the DTED already has the post. I’m hoping you can save me the trouble of asking for it.”
This time Zach studied Matt. “That should take like, what, ten seconds? You don’t want them to know you’re asking around, do you? Sorta a right hand keeping the left hand out of the loop kinda thing.”
“I can’t comment on that, Zach. I can tell you that I’m not here to trick you. I would just like to read it.”
Matt gave him several moments to think it over. Finally, Zach reached into his back pocket again and removed a printed page. It looked as if he had printed it from a web site. “I’m not proud of that. I was just goofing around, you know, making a joke. I may have had one or two too many beers, if you know what I mean.”
Matt read the piece. It was less than 250 words and only about 20 percent of it dealt with the homosexual agenda. True, Zach had used several offensive terms in making his case the homosexuals “were taking over.” To Matt, it looked like the kind of thing a person still straddling the threshold between adolescence and adulthood might pen after a long night of playing video games and consuming too many energy drinks—or beers. Matt wondered how many beers the young man downed in a week. He pushed the blog post back to Zach. He studied John’s letter one more time.
“Okay, here’s the deal. This is a form letter meant to scare you into compliance. It has no real teeth. My guess is the whole thing will be forgotten in a couple of days. The form that came with the letter is a simple way for you to get rid of the whole thing. Basically, you’re saying that what you did was a mistake. Now listen closely, Zach, I am not your attorney. You should seek legal advice before signing any legal form. However, I can tell you that this is pretty routine.”
Matt could see Zach relax. “You mean, it’s all over?”
“Probably.” Matt removed a business card from its case. “If you have questions, feel free to contact me. I need you to listen closely again. Are you listening?”
“Um, yeah—I mean, yes.”
“I am not involved in this case. I’m from a different department, so I can’t give you answers about an ongoing investigation. However, if you think you’re being singled out, get an attorney and have him contact me. Got it?”
“You’ll make it go away?”
“I didn’t say that. The man who sent you the letter is several pay grades above me. I’m just doing a little investigation for my department. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Matt gave the DOJ letter back to Zach.
When they parted company, the kid seemed satisfied. For Matt, it was a different story. His friend, John Knox Smith, ran an agency that was trying to change the country. Matt’s job, his life, and all his beliefs were at risk. He knew John was a smart, determined, resourceful guy who had been hand-picked by the president to implement and enforce new directives. Nothing would stand in John’s way. Anyone with genuine faith would be at risk—and that included Matt.