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The press should enjoy debating it,” Cullen said.

“Do ye think we could interest the petitioner’s attorneys in the Milligan case to join us?” Cullen looked through the copy in his hand. “The attorneys are James Garfield and Jeremiah Black. Black’s a former United States Attorney General and Secretary of State. He might be interested.”

“Garfield is a future president,” Charlotte said. “He’ll be assassinated, too.”

“I don’t remember anyone mentioning the lawyers’ names in our preparations,” David said.

“I took an undergraduate class in law and medicine,” she said. “We studied the case. The president was shot twice in the back. One bullet barely missed his spinal cord. There was testimony at the trial saying Garfield died because of medical malpractice.”

“Two presidents assassinated within…” Cullen said.

“Sixteen years,” Charlotte said with a nod. “Then, twenty-one years later, President McKinley is shot, and President Kennedy sixty years later. I only mention it because those assassins, or the ones who survived, had jury trials.”

“Were those presidents shot during times of war?” Cullen asked.

“No,” Charlotte said, “and arguably neither was Lincoln. Lee surrendered the week before the assassination. If you’d asked anyone on the street, they would have said the war was over. The official position, however, was even though Richmond had fallen, the Confederate government was on the move and still functioning.”

David flipped through pages of a yellow legal pad. “Elliott’s research team said not to file anything until after Jeff Davis is captured on May 10 and the last battle is fought on May 13.”

“I’m curious about Elliott’s research team,” Braham said. “What’d they think they were doing?”

“Helping Jack write a screenplay,” Charlotte said. “I told them two movie producers were waiting on script revisions before they agreed to invest millions of dollars. We were in a rush, and they worked overtime.” She swallowed a large gulp of whisky. She’d have to take out a second mortgage to pay the bill, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting Jack back.

“I don’t condone the actions of the conspirators,” she continued as soon as the whisky had burned all the way down her throat, “but I believe in the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. We’re a country of laws. And Stanton and Johnson are throwing them out the window to get quick convictions. I know their friend was murdered, but they’re not going to kill my brother in their thirst for revenge.”

Her breathing was loud and ragged in her ears. She glanced at Braham. His pain was evident in his sad eyes and the tightness around his mouth. “You were tried by a military court in absentia and convicted. The court had jurisdiction over you because you were a soldier. This military court does not have jurisdiction over civilians.”

“The argument didn’t get Mary Surratt anywhere,” Cullen said. “But if we file a writ earlier, and the judge decides the commission does have the authority to detain Jack, we’ll have an appealable decision.”

“What’s to stop Johnson from signing an order stating the writ is suspended in cases such as this, as he’ll do for Surratt?”

“If he does, we’ll take two actions,” Cullen said, “First, we’ll encourage Congress to impeach Johnson, arguing he acted outside the bounds of his constitutional authority. Second, we’ll file a lawsuit against the president claiming his authority to suspend the writ of habeas corpus expired at the end of war.”

“What’s our goal, other than to free Jack?” Braham asked.

“In the present climate, we won’t prevail with our legal challenges, but we’ll cause a serious debate in the legal community from here to New York, and we’ll try the case in the press, too,” Cullen said.

Charlotte gave Cullen a level look from beneath her brows. “Do you think we have any chance of winning?”

Cullen’s eyes never left hers as he shook his head. “No. It’s possible we’ll cause enough public debate the commission will reconsider its rush to judgment. Which will give us more time to move our case through the courts.”

She set down her glass and buried her face in her hands for a moment. Then she looked up, hot tears forming in her eyes “I get so frustrated thinking about what they’re doing to Jack. It makes me sick.” She sniffed and pressed the back of her wrist at the base of her nose. “The first person to see Jack has to take him back to the twenty-first century. I don’t care about history. I don’t care about the plantation. I don’t care about the trial. I want my bro…bro…ther back.”

David rose quickly and knelt in front of her, his knees cracking like a pop of a pistol. He took her hand in his. “We’ve gone through all of the arguments. We have to see the trial through and get Jack acquitted.”

She cast her eyes down and fixed them on their tightly clasped hands.

“Look, Charley, I’ve read every interview Jack’s given. I talked to his friends, his agent, those who know him best, and there wasn’t one of them who didn’t think he could withstand deprivation and torture for a limited time. Trust in him and have faith in his legal team. We’ll get him out.”

She put her arms around David’s neck and bathed his hard, muscular shoulder with her grief. There wasn’t anything soft about him but his heart. Although he was balanced on his haunches, his arms tightened around her. He didn’t try to calm her. He didn’t pat her. He simply held her. When she stopped crying, Braham handed her his handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Calmed now, she smiled at David, brushing at his wet shirt. “Thanks for the shoulder.”

Standing, he squeezed her hand. “Keep yer eye—”

She gave him a thumbs-up. “On the prize.”

Braham plucked at his mustache distractedly. “I’ll make discreet inquiries about the attorneys who will represent the petitioner in the Milligan case. Whether they want to join us or not, we need to have motions ready to file in the District of Columbia Court as soon as we’re appointed Jack’s

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