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CrazySugarFreakBoy!
Sat Feb 04, 2006 at 10:07:19 pm EST
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Nations Within Nations (Tie-In to Untold Tales of the City of GMY vs. Al B. Harper #254, or I Fought the Law …)
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#254: Untold Tales of the City of GMY vs Al B. Harper, or I Fought the Law…
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The Hooded Hood details the LL's foray into the courts, and what happened next
Fri Feb 03, 2006 at 10:30:11 am EST
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Nations Within Nations (Tie-In to Untold Tales of the City of GMY vs. Al B. Harper #254, or I Fought the Law …)

“Let’s dispense with the rhetoric for the moment, shall we?” suggested Herbert P. Garrick, Presidential Advisor on Special Powers for Special Powers. “Regardless of what anyone in this room might or might not believe to be moral or justified, the fact of the matter is that Special Resolution 1066, or the Patriot Branding Act, will be signed into law by Congress and the President, and everyone here knows it. So, the question then becomes, will you all agree to comply with the law of the land, or are we going to have problems?”

“Mr. Garrick, at the risk of leveling some harsh accusations at your head, even you must recognize that you’re grossly oversimplifying the situation?” challenged Washington State Gov. Roslyn Rashomon. “We’re obviously going to have problems whether or not anyone here swears allegiance to your administration’s agenda. As is the case in many other states, my constituents are deeply divided on the rights and responsibilities of superhumans and costumed crimefighters, especially since our voters’ political preferences tended toward the iconoclastic even before Dreamcatcher Foxglove became one of our more famous, or perhaps infamous, ‘hometown boys.’ Make no mistake, I share your concerns with the potential hazards of allowing any self-appointed ‘superhero’ to operate unchecked by some sort of external regulation, but I harbor just as many reservations with the passage of legislation that proposes to permit any government agency to do essentially the exact same thing, even if it is in the name of countering the possibility of such a threat.”

“At best, it’s using a guarantee of fascism to fend off an accusation of fascism,” muttered Sir Mumphrey Wilton, leader of the Lair Legion. “As one of your country’s founding fathers, Benjamin Franklin, once observed, ‘Those who would give up essential liberty, to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.’”

“Madame Governor, with all due respect to my status as a guest here in your office, I would remind you that Sir Mumphrey was only granted an invitation to this meeting as a courtesy,” Garrick noted. “However, he seems to be repaying this favor by subjecting me to the same sort of closed-minded invective which he’s accused me of, and criticized me for, in our previous dealings. I did not fly from one coast of this country to the other to engage in pointless ideological debates that have no hope of persuading either side of any new opinions. I came to you to discuss pragmatic solutions to practical realities.”

“Fine,” acknowledged Rashomon, holding up a hand to Sir Mumphrey as he moved to object. “Let’s go over the realities that affect the citizens of my state, starting with the Super-Powers Police Squad in Seattle. It’s still a pilot program for the state, but it’s already proven invaluable in protecting our civilians from the nationwide rise in so-called ‘supervillain’ activity, especially since the Globetrotting Gangbusters’ growing role in worldwide relief work has diverted many of their efforts from the domestic front. These are experienced professionals in the field of law enforcement, not the supposedly biased media commentators or ‘activist judges’ that your party rails against, and yet, I’ve been informed that anywhere from a third to one half of their officers are strongly considering quitting the force if SR1066 passes, because they believe it to be a patently unenforceable law with a huge potential for abuse, that could combine the worst aspects of prohibition and segregation. So, what I need to hear is how your administration plans to help me keep the peace in my state, and before you even say it, Sentinoids are not an option, because so many of the policies and practices that they’ve come to symbolize would make their presence so inflammatory that the resulting conflict would make the World Trade Organization riots look like a New Year’s celebration by comparison.”

“Well, if that’s where you stand, then I’m sorry, but we simply don’t have the power to put any other options on the table, for Washington or any other state,” Garrick countered. “I sympathize with your position, but beyond granting you the same basic aid package that we’ll be able to make available to all 49 other states, to support their implementation of the Patriot Branding Act … well, quite frankly, those are your obstacles to overcome. Now, I realize that you’re still a first-term governor, whose political career only began because you were called upon to fill your late husband Ron’s seat in the state House of Representatives, close to a decade ago, in the wake of his extended battle with gastric cancer, but especially in light of your narrow margin of victory in the last election, with a popular majority of less than 100 ballots cast across the state, I’d advise you to grow up, and face up to the hard compromises that are a necessary part of governance.”

Sir Mumphrey’s face grew livid in indignation, as Garrick dared to condescend toward this clearly competent, compassionate woman in her mid-50s as though she was a weak-willed schoolgirl, and only Rashomon’s expression discouraged him from dressing down the government agent on the spot. It was just a slight shift in the set of her jaw, as she reflexively flashed a tightly clenched smile, which Garrick failed to register, but Sir Mumphrey quickly distinguished between the genuinely warm and welcoming smile Rashomon had displayed earlier, versus the tense and guarded nature of her current expression.

“There’s a very good chance that I won’t be governor of the state of Washington after the next election,” Rashomon finally admitted, after a short moment of silence. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I am still the governor of the state of Washington right now. Don’t worry … I will continue to honor and uphold all the laws of the land, regardless of how I might feel about them, but that’s not necessarily good news for your platform.”

“I suppose you plan on staging some sort of pyrrhic protest, then, like enforcing all of the old town, city, county and state ‘blue laws’ that nobody ever bothered to remove from the books?” Garrick scoffed. “Go ahead. You’ll only be making it harder on yourselves.”

“On the contrary,” Rashomon corrected. “I’ve recently been reminded that Native American tribes are federally recognized as possessing the rights to form their own governments, enforce civil and criminal laws, levy taxes, establish tribal memberships, license and regulate various activities, zone property and exclude people from tribal territories. Granted, these tribes also possess many of the same limits as states, in that they don't have the power to declare war, engage in foreign relations or coin their own money, but that still constitutes a considerable precedent for the Spokane Indians of Washington, or any other federally recognized tribe from across the country, to extend conditional ‘tribal memberships’ to various non-Native American asylum seekers, as they see fit.”

Garrick’s smug grin fell, as his already pasty skin paled. “You wouldn’t,” he denied.

“There’s a growing coalition of Native American tribes throughout the state, spearheaded by members of the Spokane Indian tribe,” Rashomon elaborated, with an understated yet undeniable enthusiasm. “Their primary spokesperson is Sheriff Louis Laughing Fox, of the Spokane Tribal Police in Wellpinit, Washington, with whom I suspect you’re already familiar, since he’s also the father of Dreamcatcher Foxglove. As it turns out, these tribes are seriously exploring the possibility of adopting precisely the same sort of strategy that I just outlined, if SR1066 is indeed enacted, while Sheriff Laughing Fox has already traveled throughout the Pacific Northwest, to visit tribal reservations in neighboring states and explain their methods of civil disobedience to the tribal elders.”

“They can’t do that,” Garrick persisted impotently, as Sir Mumphrey suppressed a smirk.

“Of course they can,” Rashomon laughed briefly. “They’re not breaking the law, after all. Moreover, if your administration attempts to impose punitive measures against the tribes for their actions, you’ll all find yourselves butting your heads against the very same labyrinthine and monolithic system of bureaucracy from which your draw your strengths. Just out of curiosity, what would you call it when a separate-and-unequal institution, that was created more than a century ago to marginalize an already downtrodden ethnic minority of people, ultimately yields unexpected benefits for the descendants of that ethnic minority, that are unavailable to the majority class whose ancestors oppressed those people? Myself, I think I’d call that, ‘The chickens coming home to roost.’”

“This isn’t over,” insisted Garrick, as he stormed out the door of Rashomon’s office.

“You’re excused, Mr. Garrick,” Rashomon called out to Garrick’s receding backside.

“Good show, Madame Governor,” Sir Mumphrey congratulated, beaming beneath his whiskers.

“Thank you,” Rashomon nodded curtly. “I’ve never played host to a superhero before.”

“Never invited young Foxglove down here to Olympia, then?” Sir Mumphrey inquired idly.

“I’ve never even met him,” Rashomon confessed, as Sir Mumphrey blinked in surprise. “Ever since I took office as governor, my staff has tried to schedule me an appointment with him, but all of the times that he and I have had free have never intersected, apparently. Your bunch seems to keep him pretty busy. Besides, I’m not sure it was a meeting that either one of us was especially looking forward to, which probably made it easier for each of us to keep putting it off. I actually made a point of avoiding him during my election campaign, since I was worried that paying him any attention at all might have ascribed an undue amount of political influence to a college undergraduate with an undeclared major, just because he had his own super-suit and catchy nickname.”

“Foxglove’s a good lad,” Sir Mumphrey reassured her. “A bit eccentric, to be sure, and rather uncouth in mixed company, but a decent chap nonetheless.”

“Tell me that you people have never let anyone down,” Rashomon demanded. “Tell me that you know what the hell it is that you’re getting the rest of us into.”

Sir Mumphrey sighed. “I can only promise you that we will do what is right,” he offered.

“That can be a dangerous promise,” Rashomon discerned. “Even if you manage to keep it.”


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