Chapter Eight

The Supreme Court building loomed in the gray morning light, its marble columns standing as silent witnesses to history. Inside, the justices convened behind closed doors, their clerks scrambling to dissect every angle of the case that would soon define their legacies.

The Court had officially taken up Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, a case that directly challenged Roe v. Wade and the constitutional right to abortion. The conservative majority, emboldened by decades of strategic judicial appointments, was poised to strike. And Jason knew it.

In his chambers, the weight of history pressed down on him. Stacks of briefs, case law, and decades-old rulings covered his desk, but he barely glanced at them. He knew the arguments. He knew the precedents. He also knew that logic alone would not be enough to stop what was coming.

Grace entered, a thick legal brief in her arms. “We just got the final filings,” she said, setting them on his desk. She hesitated before speaking again. “It’s worse than we thought.”

Jason leaned forward. “Tell me.”

She flipped through the pages. “The Mississippi Attorney General’s office isn’t just asking to uphold the 15-week ban. They’re explicitly calling for Roe and Casey to be overturned. They’re not even pretending to leave room for a middle ground.”

Jason sighed, rubbing his temples. “Of course they are.”

Grace hesitated. “Sir, I—” she stopped herself.

Jason looked up. “What?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t see how we stop them.”

Jason exhaled, pushing back from his desk. He gestured toward the bookshelf filled with bound volumes of Supreme Court opinions. “You think any of those rulings happened because justices believed they were inevitable?” He stood, pacing. “We don’t fight because we’re guaranteed to win. We fight because it matters.”

Grace nodded, but her expression remained troubled. “I know. It just feels different this time. They have the votes.”

Jason stopped pacing. “Then we make sure history remembers exactly what they did.”

The first draft of Jason’s dissent was unlike anything he had ever written. He wasn’t just preparing a legal argument—he was crafting a warning, a condemnation, a call to arms.

For half a century, this Court has recognized that the Constitution protects a woman’s fundamental right to control her own body. Today, that precedent is at risk of being discarded, not because of any new legal reasoning, but because the majority no longer finds it politically convenient. We are not adjudicating the law. We are erasing it.

Let us be clear: If this Court overturns Roe, it will not be because the Constitution compels it. It will be because five justices have chosen to substitute their personal and political beliefs for the rights of millions. And history will remember them for it.

He kept writing, his pen moving furiously across the page, the words flowing with a mix of anger and precision.

By the time he finished, the dissent stretched over forty pages. It was more than a legal argument—it was an indictment. And it was personal.

When Grace read it, she swallowed hard. “This is… blistering.”

Jason looked at her. “It needs to be.”

She hesitated. “You call the majority ‘morally bankrupt.’ You say they are ‘knowingly inflicting harm on millions of women.’ That’s—” she searched for the words. “That’s not the kind of language justices use.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it should be.”

She was quiet for a moment. “You know they’ll come after you for this.”

Jason let out a dry laugh. “Grace, they already are.”

As oral arguments approached, the tension in the Court was palpable. The justices, despite their public decorum, were sharply divided. Behind closed doors, the ideological battle was fierce.

The conservative bloc—Reynolds, Prescott, Whiteside, and the others—made no secret of their disdain for Roe. They spoke of state rights, judicial restraint, and originalism. Jason knew it was all smoke and mirrors.

When it was his turn to speak during conference, he did not hold back.

“This Court is about to commit one of the greatest acts of judicial regression in modern history,” he said, his voice steady but burning with restrained fury. “We are taking away a right that has been recognized for fifty years. Tell me, where does that end?”

Justice Robert Hayward scoffed. “Spare us the theatrics, Simpson. The Constitution doesn’t mention abortion.”

Jason turned to him sharply. “It doesn’t mention interracial marriage either. Or contraception. Or the right to refuse forced sterilization. Should we overturn those next?”

Silence.

Jason pressed on. “The issue here is not whether abortion is popular. The issue is whether the government has the power to force a person to remain pregnant against their will. And if you say yes, then you are setting a precedent for state control over the most personal aspects of a citizen’s life.”

Chief Justice Reynolds leaned back in his chair. “The Court is not in the business of making moral judgments.”

Jason’s expression hardened. “Then tell me what forcing a woman to give birth against her will is, if not a moral judgment.”

The night before the decision was set to be released, Jason stood in his office, looking out over the city. Grace sat on the couch, watching him.

“You know,” she said quietly, “I used to think the Court was above politics.”

Jason turned, meeting her gaze. “And now?”

She sighed. “Now I think it’s just another battleground.”

Jason nodded. “It always has been.”

She hesitated before asking, “What happens next?”

Jason exhaled. “If they overturn Roe, millions of people will suffer. Some will die. Others will be criminalized for making choices about their own bodies. And this Court—this institution that was supposed to protect rights, not erase them—will be complicit.”

Grace looked down. “And what do we do?”

Jason’s voice was firm. “We dissent. We fight. And we never let them believe this is the end.”

Grace nodded, understanding now what she hadn’t before. This was more than a legal battle. It was a war for the soul of the country.

And Jason Simpson was not going to lose it without a fight.

###

The Supreme Court was in chaos.

It had started with a single notification—an urgent news alert flashing across every phone and screen in Washington, D.C. Within minutes, the media frenzy exploded. Someone, somewhere, had done the unthinkable: leaked a draft opinion of the Court’s ruling in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization.

And it confirmed the worst. The conservative majority had voted to overturn Roe v. Wade.

By the time Jason Simpson reached his chambers, the news was everywhere. His clerks were glued to their screens, their faces pale with shock. His inbox was flooding with emails, his phone buzzing non-stop.

Grace stood by the window, arms crossed. She turned as he entered, her face unreadable. “It’s real,” she said. “Politico just published the full draft. Written by Prescott.”

Jason took the printout she handed him, scanning the words. The opinion was worse than he imagined—sweeping, cruel, and dripping with disdain for precedent.

“The Constitution makes no reference to abortion,” Prescott wrote, “and no such right is implicitly protected by any constitutional provision.”

Jason’s grip on the paper tightened. “They’re not just overturning Roe,” he muttered. “They’re opening the door to dismantling everything.”

Grace nodded grimly. “Interracial marriage. Contraception. Same-sex relationships. If they can argue abortion isn’t protected, what stops them from gutting those rights next?”

Jason exhaled sharply. “Nothing.”

The leak had sent shockwaves through the nation. Protesters gathered outside the Supreme Court within hours, chanting, holding signs, demanding action.

The White House scrambled for a response. The President, who had distanced himself from Jason since the Simpson v. Reynolds debacle, now found himself at the center of the storm. And as always, it was up to Press Secretary Vicki Smith to clean up the mess.

The briefing room was packed, cameras rolling as Vicki stepped to the podium, a nervous smile plastered on her face.

“Good afternoon,” she began, fumbling with her notes. “Uh, obviously, um, the leak—uh, the, uh, alleged leak—is a very, uh, serious matter, and the White House, um, does not, uh, comment on, uh, ongoing Supreme Court cases.”

A reporter from The Washington Post cut in. “Madam Press Secretary, does the President condemn the decision?”

Vicki blinked. “Well, uh, obviously, the President, um, supports, you know, uh, women’s rights and, um, bodily autonomy.”

Another reporter raised a hand. “But does he condemn it?”

Vicki flipped through her notes, her face growing red. “Well, um, I think what’s important here is, uh, that, um, the, uh, judicial process is, um, sacred. Yes! Sacred. We, uh, we respect that.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Another journalist leaned forward. “Does the President believe Roe should remain law?”

Vicki smiled nervously. “Well, um, you know, that’s a great question.”

Silence.

Vicki coughed. “The, uh, President supports, um, the rights of, uh, all Americans, and—uh—he understands this is, um, a very emotional issue, and—uh—”

Reporters exchanged glances. One muttered, “Good God.”

Vicki shuffled her notes again, knocking over her water bottle in the process. She yelped, trying to catch it, only for it to splash across the podium. “Oops! Uh, sorry, um, one moment—”

The cameras captured every agonizing second of her flustered attempt to mop up the mess. The clip would be replayed endlessly on cable news that night.

Jason watched the briefing from his office, rubbing his temples.

“She’s a disaster,” Grace muttered.

“She’s a gift,” Jason corrected.

Grace frowned. “What?”

Jason gestured to the screen, where Vicki was now fumbling through another non-answer. “The White House is spineless on this issue. The President’s trying to play it safe. That’s a mistake.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “And I’m going to make sure the people know it.”

Grace hesitated. “Jason, you’re already a target. The conservatives want your head on a platter. If you speak out now—”

“I’m not backing down.”

She sighed. “I didn’t think you would.”

That night, Jason released a statement. It wasn’t just a response. It was a declaration of war.

This leak confirms what we have feared for decades: the conservative majority on this Court is willing to erase fundamental rights, not because the Constitution compels it, but because they can. The American people deserve to know what is happening behind these marble walls. They deserve to understand that this is not about legal interpretation—it is about control.

And make no mistake: if they can strip away the right to abortion, they will not stop there.

The Court has betrayed its duty to the people. And the people must not stand by in silence.

Within hours, his words spread like wildfire. Protesters grew in number. Lawmakers were forced to take sides. The White House, caught off guard, scrambled to regain control of the narrative.

The battle had begun. And Jason Simpson was at the center of it.