several cert petitions before arriving at Woodruff v. Oregon . Millard Price—a barrel-chested, broad-shouldered man who had once been president of the American Bar Association, solicitor general of the United States, and senior partner in Rankin Lusk Carstairs and White—was sitting across from Moss. Price was easygoing and could usually be counted on to defuse tension with a joke, but Moss thought he’d looked edgy all morning. As soon as the chief justice spoke the case name, Price leaned forward.
Warren Martinez had scribbled a request to speak about the case on the discuss list, and he outlined his reasons for believing that cert should be granted.
Chief Justice Bates and Kenneth Mazzorelli argued against granting the petition. Justice Moss was on the fence and decided to keep her views to herself. Millard was one of the last to speak.
“This is a waste of time,” he said. “I don’t see anything certworthy in the case.”
Moss was surprised to hear Price take a hard line in a capital case. The justice was a member of the conservative bloc on many issues, but he was a moderate on social issues, and he was usually fair and open-minded in death cases.
“The double-jeopardy argument is frivolous,” Price went on. “The case was dismissed with prejudice the first time Woodruff was charged with Finley’s murder. There was a completely different set of circumstances when she was charged the second time.”
“But it was the government that was responsible for her being charged in the first case,” Martinez said.
“And there’s definitely a Brady issue,” Justice Mary Ann David chimed in. “The government has an absolute duty to provide the defense with exculpatory evidence in its possession, and I don’t think national-security concerns can trump that duty, especially when the defendant’s life is at stake.”
“That argument is based on guesswork and conspiracy theory, not fact,” Price shot back. He seemed upset, and Moss found that strange. Millard’s arguments were usually calm and well reasoned. This outburst was very uncharacteristic.
Before anyone could continue the discussion, the door opened and Ronald Chalmers entered the conference room. There were dark circles under his eyes and his broad shoulders were bowed.
“Glad you could join us, Ron,” Chief Justice Bates joked.
“Out on the links?” Martinez asked with a smile. Chalmers was a serious golfer.
“I won’t be staying,” Chalmers said. Moss thought he sounded exhausted. “I just came from the White House. I’m resigning from the Court.”
The justices looked stunned.
“I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I didn’t know until yesterday afternoon. Vivian has Alzheimer’s. It’s in its earliest stage, so she . . .” Chalmers choked up and paused to collect himself. “We’re going to Europe while she can still appreciate the trip. I’ve been putting it off and, well, I just can’t anymore.”
Justice Moss went to her friend and colleague and embraced him. The other justices gathered around.
“I am so sorry,” Felicia said. “If there is anything I can do.”
“There isn’t,” was Chalmers’s weary answer. “I just want to spend as much time with Vivian as I can, and there’s no way I can do that and carry on the work of the Court.”
“When are you leaving for Europe?” Mary David asked.
“I’ve got our travel agent working out the details. It will be soon.”
“Does Vivian want visitors?” Justice David asked.
Chalmers smiled. “I think she’d like that.”
“I’ll call, tonight.”
The justices talked with their colleague a few moments longer. Then Chalmers excused himself.
“God, that has got to be so tough,” Bates said.
“I can’t imagine what he’s going through,” Martinez said.
The eight remaining members of the Court talked about their friend until Millard Price broke in. “I don’t want to be insensitive, but we really should get back to work. It takes four