The Fourteenth House Manager's Closing Argument

by Steffan M. Bertsch

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate, I have been given an ominous task. I don't represent any particular district, as do the other house managers. I have been asked to present the closing argument for all the Sons and Daughters of Liberty, a dying breed, but one that has many constituents within the borders and beyond the shores of the United States of America. This is perhaps the most weighty job I have ever undertaken.

Much eloquence has been spoken from both sides of the argument for and against the impeachment of the president. Such has been the adroitness of the presenters, that I figured to adequately represent Maid Liberty, I must call upon the Greatest Wisdom, the Highest Truth, the Truest Honor. In attempting to reach such lofty goals, I remembered that Hillary Clinton was reported to have had conversations with Eleanor Roosevelt, so I thought I might try to follow suit.

Since the question before the Senate is one of grave constitutional significance, I reflected upon which Founding Father I could speak with to answer the question of whether perjury, witness tampering, and obstruction of justice, all for personal gain, rose to the level of high crimes and misdemeanors and therefore mandated a dismissal of the president.

My first thought was Thomas Jefferson, but, alas, he was in Paris when the Constitution was written. I also dismissed calling upon Benjamin Franklin because he was ever so close to death by the time the Constitution was ratified. As I ticked off the list of some of my favorite Americans, such as Patrick Henry and Richard Henry Lee, I had to scratch them because they opposed the Constitution out of fear that a despotic federal government would arise from the document. I feared all I would hear from one of them would be a resounding, "I told you so!"

Then, an inspiration hit me . . . I knew who to contact . . . but, was uncertain as to how. What would be the first step in conjuring up a Founding Father? As I contemplated this problem, I went into a deep trance .. . . or did I fall asleep? Regardless, my recollection of the events is as clear as if I had been fully awake.

This is how it happened, the strange event, so powerful was it that I need not follow my colleagues and make comparisons of Clinton to Marlon Brando in The Godfather, or allude to literary figures like the character in The Prince by Machiavelli, or even compare Clinton to some Roman emperor, such as Caligula. I would experience the real thing . . . take my answer right from a Founding Father . . . there would be no metaphors or similes for me!

As I lay in an odd state of stupor, where I was alert, yet also uncertain of whether I was conscious or having a lucid dream, concentrating with all my energy upon the Founding Father I had chosen to assist in the troublesome task, I heard a loud knock, arose, and answered the door.

Standing on my porch was a diminutive man, nearly a foot shorter than I, with unruly hair whose appearance astonished me. His clothing fit tightly about him, with frills on his sleeves and collar flowing out from his burnt-orange coat. As I stood dumbfounded and wondering what this costumed clown was doing at my door, I looked into his eyes and recognized an intelligence beyond any I have ever encountered, so I invited him into my house.

"What may I do for you?" I asked, to which he replied that I had sent for him. I scratched my head, and said I doubted that very much. He laughed and said that he was actually a substitute for whom I had requested. Then it hit me, I had requested the assistance of John Jay, the first Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, but he was apparently not available. I introduced myself and inquired as to who was in my home.

"James Madison, at your service."

Nothing could have shocked me more than his introduction. I had always known Madison to have been such a giant of an intellect that I had wrongly assumed that such a magnificent mind could not be packaged in such a tiny body, and I told him so. His response did nothing to allay my amazement.

"My mind is smaller than a mustard seed," said he, "but it is tied to the greatest network of intelligence that you could imagine."

Wanting dearly to explore the metaphysical implications of his comment, but now remembering my task at hand, I changed the subject. "Sir, could you assist me in a grave task? The House of Representatives has impeached our 42nd president, and I have been asked to give a closing argument at the impeachment trial in the Senate."

Madison's cheerful eyes turned black as he contemplated what I had said.

"How dark it must be in America that you are impeaching the president!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, the president's defenders say it is not dark at all, but that we, the prosecutors have too dark a view of the republic. They point to many things, claiming the economy has been great under this president, that there are few wars, that the people love the man, so, his defenders say, he should not be removed."

"What wrong is your president charged with?" asked Madison.

I laid out the details, the allegations of perjury, of obstructing justice, and concluded with this question: "So, Mr.. President, you were the chief author of the Constitution, the writer of 29 of the Federalist Papers which you signed 'Publius,' and a Founding Father of this republic. Do perjury and obstruction of justice under these sordid circumstances arise to a high crime or misdemeanor as contemplated in Article II, Section 4 and mandate the president's removal from office?"

The little man fell into a chair, dropped his head into his palms, and wept. His tears were so large that they poured through the crevices of his hands and dripped onto his pant legs. He sniffed. He coughed. And, he cried for several minutes before looking at me with tear-soaked eyes. "Is . . . is . . . that what America's come to? Has she fallen that far?"

I nodded.

He wheezed again, and then, miraculously, this little man who had just been bawling jumped to life. His eyes dried, his countenance lightened, and he was ready. "If that's what you're about, we better get to work," he said. "How is the vote estimated to go."

"Well, we now have fifty states, so there are one hundred senators." This piece of information seemed to cheer Madison up and he showed a tinge of pride in his expression.

"It's going to break down on party lines, fifty-five Republicans will probably vote to convict. The forty-five Democrats will vote to acquit."

"What!?" he screamed. "Democrats? Where did a party get a name like that?"

I gulped. "Well, you see, the media and the history books all tell that this country is a democracy, so the party is named to signify the followers of a democracy."

"No!" shouted Madison. "We had Democratic-Republicans in my day. But, Democrats! No! Never! This is not a democracy! That is a base lie! We considered whether to form a democracy and rejected the concept flatly. Both democracy and monarchy were evaluated and smitten. This country is a REPUBLIC. Where in the Constitution is found the word 'democracy' I ask you? Nowhere, and I know, I wrote most of the document. This is terrible. Your people will perish for lack of knowledge."

I shrugged, and nodded.

"Okay, let's keep working. Do you have transcripts of the witnesses who testified in the trial?" asked Madison.

"Well, no."

"Why not? How are we going to put together a closing argument if we don't know the testimony?"

"You see," I stammered, "the Senate didn't allow us to call a single witness into the trial."

Madison stamped his feet and screamed, "A trial with no witnesses! What kind of a mockery is going on in that infernal Senate?"

I then explained the horrific rulings the Senate had made, how it had restricted us from prosecuting the president, explained the sham in its full ugliness.

"This reminds me of the tragedy brought upon this republic when Chief justice John Marshall rigged the trial for that traitor, Aaron Burr. Which reminds me, what has the current Chief Justice been doing during this mock trial?"

"Next to nothing," I said. "He might as well be a puppet for the Senate doing their bidding."

"So, the Senate's corrupt, as is the Supreme Court. Lucky there is still a House of the people."

Madison paced a moment, then looked out my window, before smiling almost gleefully. "I know just the answer for such a travesty of justice. We'll cut it off right now! We'll just have to notify the legislatures of those fifty states to recall the senators because of the sham that is ongoing."

I frowned.

"Why so glum," asked Madison. "I know it's a lot of work, but after one state sees the light, they'll all follow suit. We'll have a whole new Senate in no time at all."

"The states don't have any control over the Senate. In 1913, under the Seventeenth Amendment to the Constitution, the members of the Senate are no longer elected by the legislatures of the various states, but instead, by popular vote of the people."

"No! No! No! You've got to be kidding. Did the people not read Federalist Papers 62 and 63? The greatest fear of everyone in my day was that the Senate would become an elite group of tyrants because their terms were six long years. The only check on this was that all senators were subject to recall by their state legislatures, so it was presumed that all senators would only do bidding that benefited the state they represented. Without this check, the federal power could destroy all of the states' rights."

"It already has," I admitted.

"Tell me, does the president have much power today?" he asked, not seeming to hear my comment.

"A great deal."

"How so?"

"Well, he is commander-in-chief of the most powerful military on the earth. He commands the Navy, Marines, Air Force and the Army."

"I don't know what a air force is, but do you have a standing army?"

"Yes."

He ripped my copy of the Constitution from my hands and shouted, "Where does this document authorize a standing army?"

I shrugged.

"What other powers has he?"

"He commands the federal police force, the FBI, the internal revenue officers, the IRS, the covert operations, the CIA . . ."

"Stop! Where did he get these powers?"

"I--I think mostly from the commerce clause, and the Sixteenth Amendment authorizing a tax on incomes."

Madison stared in disbelief. "The commerce clause? The commerce clause? And a tax on incomes! Don't you realize that if you tax incomes that you have opened up your affairs to the government? Don't you understand that such a tax violates every fiber of the Fourth Amendment? Don't you realize that without a warrant sworn on probable cause that the government cannot look at your personal papers and records? Of course, from the sounds of it, who cares about oaths today . . . certainly not the current president."

"Oh," I smiled. "The government and the IRS gets around the Fourth Amendment by declaring that the income tax is voluntary."

"That's a relief," said Madison. "So, people only pay the income tax if they want to do so."

"Not quite," I said. "When a person neglects or refuses to pay the income tax, their property is seized and sometimes they are thrown in jail."

"Atrocious! How could you have let this happen! You have a virtual dictator in this president! You have built a monster!"

I gulped. "It's a little worse than that. He writes executive orders and thereby has legislative powers to do as he pleases."

"How?" Madison shoved the Constitution in my face. "Where does he have that power? Is there another that I need to know about?"

"In 1933, the sitting president declared that the economic depression was so deep that it must be fought with all the powers a president would have in an actual state of war. Our Congress declared war on the depression and made the president omnipotent."

"But that was 65 years ago." said Madison.

"The War Powers Act has never been repealed. Since 1933, the presidents have all the war powers at their disposal, and they have used those powers to fight wars in Vietnam, in Iraq, in Korea, and many, many other countries without acquiring a formal declaration of war from Congress. We currently have troops and or agents overtly or covertly stationed in over 100 nations doing mischief in many, and all done without declarations of war."

"Did nobody read the farewell address of General Washington? Did the General not warn us that wars would trouble everyone throughout the world and that our only defense against these wars was to isolate ourselves from them? To refuse to be a part of them?"

I tried to smile, but couldn't. "Mr.. President, we have been suckered into many wars in the name of God. Our politicians always claim that God would never allow us to sit quietly by as our brethren are killed by tyrants."

"God?" asked Madison. "Which God?"

"I thought there was only One?"

"In a sense, you're right. There is but One Creator, the Divine God of Love, Justice, Truth, Wisdom and Honor. But, there is another, a pretender, a fraud, a liar, a murderer, who goes by many names, but you probably know him best as Mammon, since your country seems to run on this . . . this commerce clause."

There was a long silence as I reflected upon what Madison had just said.

I knew well which god would have created a fraudulent money system, a fraudulent tax system, a fraudulent war on the economy, a fraudulent Senate, a fraudulent trial of impeachment, a fraudulent involvement in Vietnam, a fraudulent war on drugs. I had to admit that the US of A no longer worshipped the God of our Founding Fathers, but instead followed Mammon. I breathed in quite deeply.

Madison turned toward the door and began to let himself out. I stopped him and said, "Wait, do perjury and obstruction of justice rise to high crimes and misdemeanors?"

Madison's face flushed, and, again he ripped the Constitution from my hands. His eyes bulged as he exclaimed, "Under the original . . . Yes . . . Absolutely Yes! Under this thing that you now have . . ." His voice trailed as he sneered in disgust . . . then he reached into his belt and withdrew a dirk and stuck the Constitution to my wall . . . "Under this abortion you follow, Mammon only knows! What have you wrought?" With that, the angered man stormed out of my house.

The next thing I remember, I was sitting in a chair wiping sleep from my eyes, realizing that I must have had a bad dream. As I arose, I noticed my copy of the Constitution affixed to the wall, held there by an ancient looking dagger.

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate is why I, the fourteenth house manager speaking on behalf of Maid Liberty, no longer give a damn how you vote.