"Not today."

"Ace is. Dead."

"I heard. He was a soldier. He honored his oath. He died defending his country."

TWENTY-NINE.

Monday, 8 February The day after the Super Bowl "A federal judge does not seek these cases; they come to him. He does not seek controversy; it comes to him. That is the nature of the job. The two cases on which I rule today came to me; both rulings will be controversial. When I accepted this job, no one said it would make me popular. No one was right. As a federal judge, you learn to live with a harsh fact of life: someone will always be mad at you. Because in every case, someone must lose. It is a lifetime of letting someone down. And so I shall today."

United States District Judge A. Scott Fenney sat behind the bench in his courtroom on the fifteenth floor of the Earle Cabell Federal Building in downtown Dallas. Every available seat and space along the walls was occupied by interested parties, spectators, and members of the press. FBI Special Agent Catalina Pea occupied one such seat.

"In the matter of The State of Texas, et al. versus The President of the United States of America, et al., some people will think my ruling unfair. But it is not my job to determine what is fair, only what is legal. Fairness is a political matter; legality is a judicial matter. My ruling isn't about the president, politics, the election, immigration, or fairness.

"It's about the law.

"We live under the law. A judge enforces the law. Against murderers, drug traffickers, Islamic terrorists, and presidents. No one is above the law or exempt from the law or better than the law.

"No one.

"This case is about one thing: the president's authority under the Constitution. This Court does not pretend to know what is good social policy and what is bad social policy when it comes to immigration. Fortunately, that job is not my job. That job belongs to the Congress and the president. The president issued an executive order that the states contend changes the law unilaterally. The states sued the president in federal court. They asked the judicial branch to decide if the president exceeded his constitutional authority. That is my job.

"The Court's ruling will outrage some and encourage others. Some will cheer, others will jeer. Some will love it, some will hate it. And the people who love this ruling will hate the next one, and vice-versa. But public opinion has no relevance to the resolution of a judicial matter. The Constitution does not blow with the wind. It stands strong against all winds. It is the rock in the storm. It is the solid foundation of a solid nation. There is a reason why America is the land of the free and home of the brave, why America is the leader of the free world, why America is the most powerful, the richest, and the freest nation on God's earth.

"That reason is the Constitution.

"My duty is to the Constitution. My job is to defend the Constitution against the Congress and the president, because politics will always push the constitutional envelope. Our Founding Fathers were smart men who knew that establishing lifetime appointments for federal judges would remove politics from the bench. They knew that this was the best insurance to keep the people free from their government. Some people agree with the immigration law, some disagree. Some agree with the president's order, some disagree. But we all must-we must-agree with the Constitution. The Constitution created this country, and the Constitution preserves this country. Without our agreement, belief, obedience, respect, and honor of the Constitution, America would not be the nation it is today.

"The president's executive order does not agree with the Constitution. It violates the separation of powers doctrine and exceeds his authority under Article Two. The president does not like the law and cannot convince the Congress to change the law, so he changed the law himself. Perhaps the president's desires are correct social policy; but they are not the law. The president's executive order does not enforce the law; it contradicts the law. The president's executive order is not an exercise of prosecutorial discretion; it is an exercise of legislative power. The president cannot, under the guise of exercising enforcement discretion, rewrite the laws to accord with his political views. The president himself said his executive order changes the law. That he cannot do.

"If the president possessed the power to make the law as well as to enforce the law, that power would make him a king. Our Founding Fathers decided America would not have a king. The president is the most powerful person on the planet, but he is not a king. He is subject to the law. To the Constitution.

"Therefore, the Court rules that the president's executive order exceeded the authority granted to the office of the president in Article Two of the Constitution. The order is hereby declared null and void. All Executive Branch agencies and officers thereof are hereby enjoined from implementing the president's executive order."

Half of the spectators stood and applauded; half booed and stormed out. Half had won; half had lost. Or so they seemed to think. Scott removed his glasses and looked for Cat; he saw only her backside as she walked out of the courtroom.

"Judge, you ready for the defendants?" Louis whispered.

Scott nodded. Louis went to the door leading to the holding cell and returned with the Imam and his co-defendants. They remained handcuffed, but not shackled; they no longer wore jail jumpsuits, but their Muslim attire. Street clothes. Where they would soon be. Scott gave them time to find their seats and the spectators to settle again. He put on his glasses.

"In the matter of The United States of America versus Omar al Mustafa et al., I address Omar al Mustafa, also known as Omar Mansour, born in America and blessed to live in America. Mr. Mustafa, you should hit your knees and thank God every day of your life to have been born in America. To be an American citizen. To enjoy the freedoms the Constitution granted to us and protects for us. To live in safety and security that so many people in this world do not enjoy.

"But you don't.

"You hit your knees and pray for the destruction of America. And in America, you are free to do so. You are free to speak against America.

"As a federal judge, I must protect you from prosecution for exercising your right of free speech and freedom of religion. So I must release you from custody today."

"Allahu Akbar!" the Imam shouted.

"Mr. Mustafa, you're not guilty, but you're not innocent. The legal definition of innocence is the absence of guilt. You are innocent of the crimes for which you were indicted, so this court dismisses those charges against you. But you are guilty of crimes against humanity. You feel no guilt, but you are not absent of guilt. You walk free today, but life will not dismiss those charges against you. Life has its own system of justice. One day, Mr. Mustafa, life will convict you and punish you for your crimes. And the punishment will be severe.

"You hate this country. I wish you would just leave. But you won't. I wish I could throw you out of this country. But I can't. But I can throw you out of this courtroom. Omar al Mustafa, get the hell out of my courtroom."

Omar al Mustafa stood and held his handcuffed hands out to the federal marshal. He could not restrain a grin. The marshal unlocked the cuffs and freed him; other marshals freed the others. He turned to his disciples.

"Come."

Omar led them down the center aisle of the courtroom like the Prophet leading the people to Mecca. He pushed the double doors open, rode the elevator down, and marched through the foyer of the courthouse and out the front doors. On the steps the media had gathered en masse. He stood triumphantly before the cameras and microphones.

"Allahu Akbar! Praise Allah!"

I defeated America!

I won!

Now I will show my power to America!

Now I will bring America to its knees!

Now I will- "Omar al Mustafa, you're under arrest."

He looked down as handcuffs were slapped around his left wrist and up to Agent Beckeman's face. The agent pulled his left arm behind his back and cuffed his right wrist.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and to have him present with you while you're being questioned. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to represent you before you are questioned."

"Terrorism?" Mustafa said.

"Taxes," Beckeman said. "Your heart might be in Syria with your Muslim brothers, but you live in America. You've got to pay your taxes, Omar."

Al Capone had failed to pay income taxes on his bootlegging income. The FBI could never nail him on the bootlegging, but he died of syphilis in prison for evading taxes. FBI Special Agent Eric Beckeman could only hope the same fate awaited Omar al Mustafa.

"Allahu Akbar, motherfucker."

Farooq Zaman, twenty-four, aka Abdul jabbar Khalid aka Sam Taylor, and Farique Zaman, twenty-two, aka Saadi Khalid aka Al A. Hu, were born in Pakistan to Ghamid Zaman, a doctor, and Dara Zaman, a nurse. By all accounts they were happy, non-radicalized Muslim boys. Ghamid was killed in an errant drone strike in their village. The U.S. government relocated the Zaman family to Minneapolis where there was an established Muslim community. They became naturalized citizens. Farooq and Farique enrolled in the University of Minnesota. Farooq earned a degree in structural engineering; Farique had finished his second year when the brothers moved to Dallas to blow up Cowboys Stadium. They assumed false identities and got jobs, Farooq as a video technician at the stadium and Farique as a driver with the beer distributor. They infiltrated the mosque, the perfect place to meet patsies for their plot-the Siddiqui brothers. They bought ammonium nitrate all across the Farm Belt with ISIS money, just a click away on the Internet. With the expertise of Zaheed, ISIS's chief bomb maker, Abdul built a bomb and devised a brilliant plot. It almost worked. Farooq's body was returned to his mother in Minnesota. There was nothing left of Farique to return. Their mother was devastated. She knew nothing of the plot. She loved America.

Lone wolves are the hardest terrorists to stop. By the grace of God, we stopped them. This time. But maybe not next time. And Special Agent Eric Beckeman knew the harsh truth.

There will always be a next time.

EPILOGUE.

Friday, 12 February 5 days after the Super Bowl "Judge Fenney is an extremist judge who clearly has an anti-immigrant and more particularly, an anti-Latino judicial agenda. Mexicans are angry. The president is angry. He intends to appeal his hateful ruling to the court of appeals, and if necessary, to the Supreme Court."

The Dallas newspaper lay open to the presidential spokesperson's quote. This time, it made the front page. Monday he was a hero; by Friday he was an extremist. Scott had the landline phone to his ear.

"You ruled against my parents," Cat said.

"I ruled against the president."

"You sentenced them to a life in fear. A life lived in the shadows. I let you inside me, and this is what you do to me?"

"I didn't do it to you."

"You did it to them. They haven't stopped crying since you ruled."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you? You know what my mother said? 'Why did he do this to us? I thought he liked us.' "

"I do like your parents. But this isn't about them. It's about the law. The law isn't about politics. It's about process. About following the Constitution. About-"

"I don't give a damn about politics or process, only about my parents."

"All I did was rule on the president's authority."

"All you did was sign my parents' deportation order."

"Cat, you've got to separate what your parents want from what the law allows."

"I can't. Not when it comes to my parents. They love America. Mustafa and his men hate America. My parents want to be Americans. They want to kill Americans. But they get to stay, and my parents have to leave. That's not fair."

"No, it's not. But it's the law."

"Fuck the law."

At ten, the chief law enforcement officer in America called.

"I'm glad you're not dead, Scott."

"Thanks, Mac."

"Your daughter is a hero."

"She is."

"I owe you, Scott. I won't forget it."

"Mac, don't deport Agent Pea's parents."

"What? Oh, I'm over that case. We'll win at appeals. Or at the Supreme Court. Roberts is a pushover, worried about what history will think of him. It won't. It won't think of any of us. This time will go down in history as the age of terror and evil." He exhaled into the phone. "Hell, maybe it is the end of days."

At noon, Scott addressed a convicted felon in open court.

"Dennis Macklin, your sentence is hereby probated for good time and good deeds. You're a good man, Dennis. And you did good. Thank you."

"Thank you, Judge. I'm very sorry for what I did. I will pay those ten thousand employees every penny they lost because of me. I will make things right. For my father. For me. And for you."

At four, Bobby said, "Guess what?"

"The Imam beheaded himself."

"No such luck. The NFL decided that the second half of the Super Bowl will be played in two weeks at an undisclosed stadium before no spectators and no media except for television cameras."

"The world we live in."

"Sid Greenberg produced the damning document. They settled."

"Good."

"And I'm pregnant ... we're pregnant ... Karen's pregnant."

"Hey, congratulations."

Everyone hugged Bobby and Karen.

"You'll work from home?" Scott said.

"Of course."