Chapter Three

Jason had always prided himself on his composure, but as he sat before the Senate Judiciary Committee, even he had to admit that the weight of the moment was pressing down on him. The chamber was packed—cameras, senators, aides, reporters, all waiting to witness the latest Supreme Court confirmation hearing. And yet, Jason already knew how this was going to go.

The Republican majority had made their intentions clear. They had the votes. They had their nominee. And they were determined to see him through with as little friction as possible. The Democratic minority, knowing they were outnumbered and outmaneuvered, had largely resigned themselves to the inevitability of his confirmation. There would be no dramatic showdowns, no fiery speeches. Just the slow, methodical march toward an outcome that had already been decided.

Still, Jason knew better than to relax. He had spent years in courtrooms where a single misplaced word could shift the entire balance of a case. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake now—not when so many people had already assumed they knew exactly what kind of Justice he would be.

Senator Martin Calloway, the Republican chairman of the committee, cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses before speaking. “Judge Simpson, let me first say how grateful we are for your time today. I know this process can be grueling, but I have to say, looking at your record, I think we’re going to find this to be a rather straightforward confirmation.”

Jason offered a polite nod. “Thank you, Senator. I’m honored to be here.”

Calloway smiled and leaned forward slightly. “Your record on the bench is exemplary. You have consistently demonstrated a commitment to constitutional principles and judicial restraint. Would you say that’s a fair assessment?”

Jason knew the answer they wanted. “I believe a judge’s role is to interpret the law as it is written, not to legislate from the bench.”

A murmur of approval ran through the Republican side of the committee. Calloway beamed. “Exactly what we need on the Supreme Court.”

The next few questions followed the same script. Republican senators took turns lavishing praise on his judicial temperament, his commitment to originalism, and his rulings against government overreach. No one pressed him on the nuances of his beliefs, no one attempted to uncover anything that might suggest he was anything other than what they expected him to be.

Senator James Fuller, another Republican, grinned as he leaned back in his chair. “Judge Simpson, I have to say, after reviewing your record, I can’t seem to find a single radical bone in your body. Now, I know the media likes to stir up controversy, but I just want to make sure we’re clear here—you don’t see it as the Court’s role to rewrite laws or advance political agendas, correct?”

Jason kept his expression neutral. “The role of the judiciary is to interpret the law impartially, based on precedent and constitutional principles.”

Fuller nodded, satisfied. “Glad to hear it.”

Jason resisted the urge to exhale in relief. He knew they were looking for affirmation, not debate. As long as he stuck to careful, measured responses, this would be over quickly.

Then came the Democrats’ turn.

Senator Eleanor Harper, one of the senior Democrats on the committee, was the first to speak. She adjusted her microphone and eyed Jason carefully. “Judge Simpson, I’ll be honest with you. My colleagues and I know we don’t have the votes to stop your confirmation. That’s just the reality of the situation. But I do have concerns.”

Jason met her gaze. “I understand, Senator.”

Harper folded her hands. “I don’t doubt your intellect or your experience. But I am concerned about what kind of Justice you intend to be. Many of my constituents worry that this Court is becoming more and more hostile to issues like voting rights, reproductive freedoms, and environmental protections. Can you assure them that you will be an independent voice?”

Jason paused just long enough to make it seem as though he was giving the question serious thought. “Senator, my commitment has always been to the law. I will evaluate every case based on its merits and the constitutional principles that guide our judiciary. I have no agenda beyond upholding the rule of law.”

Harper sighed, clearly unsatisfied but unwilling to press further. “I suppose that’s the best answer I can hope for.”

A few more Democrats asked questions, but they lacked energy. They knew the outcome was inevitable. No one wanted to waste political capital on a fight they couldn’t win. There were no grandstanding speeches, no moments designed for the evening news cycle. Just resigned acceptance.

By the time the questioning ended, Jason knew he had cleared the last real hurdle.

Calloway looked around the chamber with a satisfied smile. “Well, I think we’ve heard everything we need to hear. Unless there are any further questions, I believe we are ready to move forward.”

No one spoke. The room was silent for a moment, and then Calloway nodded. “In that case, we will proceed with the committee vote.”

The tally was exactly as expected. The Republicans voted in unanimous support. A few Democrats voted against him, but most abstained, knowing it would make no difference. The final vote was overwhelmingly in Jason’s favor.

As he sat there, listening to the results being read aloud, he felt a strange mix of emotions. Relief, certainly. Gratitude, in some sense. But also, an uneasiness that lingered at the edges of his thoughts.

They thought they knew him. They thought they had placed another safe vote on the highest court in the land. They had handed him this seat with barely a challenge, believing that he would rule exactly as they expected him to.

But Jason knew something they didn’t.

Once he was on that bench, once he had a lifetime appointment, there would be no more assumptions, no more expectations. He would be free to interpret the law as he saw fit, to rule with fairness and integrity, regardless of what party had placed him there.

He had played the game. And now, he had won.

As he shook hands with the senators, smiling for the cameras, he knew his real work was only just beginning.

###

Jason stepped into the Supreme Court building, the click of his shoes echoing against the marble floors. The grandeur of the place was undeniable, the history of American jurisprudence woven into every arch and pillar. But all he could think about was how drastically he was about to disrupt the status quo.

Every single justice on the bench—except him—was a staunch conservative. They assumed he was, too. They had no idea.

His new clerk, Grace Adams, walked briskly beside him, holding a leather-bound notebook against her chest. She had been assigned to him with the expectation that she would be working for a mild-mannered, businesslike judge. That illusion wouldn’t last long.

"Justice Simpson, your schedule is set for today," she said professionally. "First, a meeting with the Chief Justice, then a conference on the upcoming cases, and finally, your official portrait session."

Jason smirked. "Ah, yes. The first-day traditions. Any hazing rituals I should prepare for? Do I have to carry Prescott’s robes around for a week?"

Grace’s eyes widened slightly before she realized he was joking. "Uh, no. Nothing like that. Just the usual formalities."

"Good to know." Jason pushed open the heavy wooden doors leading to the Justices' conference room, where he would meet his new colleagues for the first time.

The room was silent when he entered, eight justices already seated around a grand, oval table. Chief Justice Leonard Reynolds sat at the head, an imposing figure with an air of unshakable authority. The other justices gave Jason polite nods as he took his seat.

Reynolds steepled his fingers. "Justice Simpson, welcome. We’re glad to have you here."

Jason inclined his head. "I appreciate that, Chief."

Justice William Prescott, a younger, confident member of the court, leaned forward with an easy smile. "We’re all looking forward to working with you. I think you’ll find we have a well-ordered system here, and we tend to see things in a similar light."

Jason hid his amusement. Not for long.

Justice Selma Thatcher, her demeanor sharp and no-nonsense, adjusted her glasses. "We take the integrity of this court very seriously, Justice Simpson. We respect tradition, and we expect each member to uphold the principles that have guided us for generations."

Jason met her gaze with a steady nod. "You’ll find that I take the law very seriously, Justice Thatcher. That’s why I’m here."

A pause. A slight narrowing of her eyes. Then a satisfied nod.

The discussion moved to the docket for the term. The cases were heavy, contentious, each carrying the weight of the country’s ideological battles. The first involved a challenge to a voter ID law. The second, a Second Amendment case. The third, an immigration dispute.

As the justices discussed their initial leanings, Jason listened carefully. Every single one of them spoke with the quiet confidence of people who assumed they were among like-minded peers. There was no need for pretense—why would there be? To them, Jason was simply another reliable vote for their side.

Finally, it was his turn to speak.

"On the voter ID case," he said slowly, "I find it difficult to see how this law can be justified when it disproportionately affects marginalized communities. The evidence of voter fraud is negligible, while the burden placed on eligible voters is substantial."

Silence. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

Justice Robert Hayward, gruff and blunt, let out a grumbling chuckle. "You’re joking, right? This is about ensuring the integrity of our elections. You can’t seriously be suggesting that a law designed to prevent fraud is a burden."

Jason met his gaze calmly. "If the problem the law claims to address doesn’t exist, then what exactly are we fixing?"

More silence. Prescott glanced at Reynolds. Thatcher’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Justice Nancy Novak, sharp and precise, tilted her head. "You don’t agree with the lower court’s ruling?"

Jason leaned back in his chair. "I don’t agree that laws designed to address imaginary problems should come at the cost of real voters losing access to the ballot."

Reynolds cleared his throat. "Well. I see we’re going to have some lively discussions this term."

Jason smiled. "I wouldn’t have accepted the nomination if I thought otherwise."

The meeting wrapped up with a few polite formalities, but Jason could feel the tension thick in the air as the justices filed out. Some were intrigued. Others were irritated. None of them had expected this.

As he walked back toward his chambers, Grace struggled to keep up with his long strides.

"Justice Simpson," she said hesitantly. "I—I don’t mean to overstep, but… that was unexpected."

Jason glanced at her. "Was it?"

She hesitated. "Well… yes. I mean, I thought—everyone thought—you were…"

"A conservative?" Jason finished for her.

Grace swallowed. "Yes."

He stopped in front of his office door and turned to her with a small, knowing smile. "You should never assume, Grace. It’s a dangerous habit."

She looked at him with a mix of curiosity and something else—something like apprehension.

Jason opened the door to his office, stepping inside. "You’re my clerk. Your job is to write strong arguments for both sides of every case. Starting today, I expect you to write the best possible arguments for the liberal positions, as well as the conservative ones."

Grace blinked. "You… want me to write liberal arguments?"

"Yes," Jason said simply. "Because I plan to argue them. And if I’m going to be the only one fighting for them, I’d better make damn sure they’re good."

She stared at him, realization dawning across her face.

He wasn’t who she—or anyone else—thought he was. And the Supreme Court was about to find that out the hard way.