Chapter Four

Jason sat on the bench for his first oral argument as a Supreme Court Justice, his hands folded neatly before him. He had spent his life in courtrooms, but this moment was different. The weight of the institution settled around him like an iron cloak. Every eye in the room was watching. The lawyers at the podium, the clerks taking notes, the reporters scribbling furiously in the press box—all of them waiting to see how the Court’s newest member would handle himself.

The case was TikTok, Inc. v. Garland, a challenge against the federal government’s authority to ban the popular social media app on national security grounds. The government, represented by Solicitor General Edward Canning, argued that TikTok’s data collection posed an unacceptable risk to national security due to its ties to the Chinese government. TikTok’s lawyers contended that banning the platform would constitute an egregious violation of the First Amendment.

As expected, Jason’s conservative colleagues treated Canning with deference, lobbing softballs at him.

Chief Justice Reynolds leaned forward. “Mr. Canning, wouldn’t you agree that protecting American citizens from potential foreign influence is a compelling government interest?”

Canning nodded eagerly. “Absolutely, Your Honor. The government has a duty to ensure national security, and the risk of foreign adversaries accessing user data—”

Justice Prescott cut in. “And you would say this risk is credible?”

“Beyond credible,” Canning said. “The evidence of data harvesting is extensive.”

Jason barely contained his frustration. Beyond credible? The government had produced little actual proof of harm, only speculation and political talking points. But before he could interject, Justice Hayward—gruff, red-faced, and always ready for a fight—turned his attention to TikTok’s attorney, Evelyn Marks.

“So, Ms. Marks,” Hayward said, his voice dripping with disdain, “are you telling me that the federal government should just let China have full access to our citizens’ information? Because that sounds an awful lot like aiding and abetting a foreign adversary to me.”

Marks took a steadying breath. “Justice Hayward, there is no verified evidence that TikTok shares user data with the Chinese government.”

Hayward snorted. “Oh, right. And we should just take their word for it?”

Justice Novak, a sharp-witted and meticulous conservative, smirked. “I’m curious, Ms. Marks—if a national security risk did exist, would your client acknowledge it? Or would they just deny, deny, deny?”

Jason could feel the blood rushing to his head. The government had produced no smoking gun, no damning evidence. Yet the majority of the Court was treating TikTok like a proven national security threat while letting the government slide by with nothing more than vague insinuations.

Finally, Jason leaned forward, his voice cool but unmistakably firm. “Mr. Canning.”

The Solicitor General straightened, unused to being called on by Jason. “Yes, Your Honor?”

“You keep mentioning national security, yet the government’s case hinges on the assumption that TikTok’s data practices pose a threat. Can you provide definitive proof that any American user’s data has been accessed by the Chinese government?”

Canning hesitated. “We have reason to believe—”

Jason cut him off. “Reason to believe is not proof. The government cannot restrict speech based on suspicion alone. Have you found any case where an individual’s private data has been compromised in a way that justifies a nationwide ban?”

Canning shifted uncomfortably. “The intelligence community has serious concerns—”

Jason wasn’t letting him off that easily. “Concerns, yes. But where is the evidence? You are asking this Court to accept a First Amendment restriction based on speculation.”

A palpable tension filled the courtroom. Jason knew he had just drawn a line in the sand.

Canning swallowed. “Your Honor, in matters of national security, we must sometimes act preemptively to mitigate risks before they materialize.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “So we should curtail free speech based on hypothetical dangers? Should we ban all social media platforms, just in case? Should we shut down the internet because bad actors might use it? Where does that logic end?”

Canning had no answer. The courtroom fell silent for a moment.

Jason sat back, satisfied. He had made his point. But he already knew it wouldn’t be enough.

The ruling came down: 6-3 in favor of Garland. The majority’s opinion, written by Chief Justice Reynolds, framed the ban as a “reasonable safeguard against foreign interference.” They cloaked their decision in deference to the executive branch, citing the government’s broad powers to act in the name of national security.

Jason was furious. He had known this would happen, but that didn’t make it any less enraging. His colleagues had rubber-stamped a blatant violation of the First Amendment, not because the facts justified it, but because they trusted the government’s word over the Constitution’s promises.

And so, he wrote his dissent.

His words were sharper than he had ever written in a legal opinion:

“The First Amendment does not bend to governmental paranoia. It does not yield to vague assurances that a ‘threat may exist’ somewhere in the ether. The government has not presented evidence of actual harm, only the specter of one. And yet, this Court—historically the last line of defense for our most fundamental freedoms—has chosen to sanction this overreach rather than scrutinize it.”

He wasn’t done.

“Today’s ruling does not merely allow the government to ban an app. It establishes a dangerous precedent: that speech may be silenced if the government declares a threat without proving one. This is not jurisprudence. It is abdication.”

He concluded with a chilling warning:

“Once we begin down this road, there is no turning back. If the Court will allow fear, rather than facts, to dictate our freedoms, then we are no longer the guardians of liberty. We are its undertakers.”

The morning his dissent was published, it was everywhere. Cable news. Newspapers. Social media. Even his own colleagues read it with a mixture of irritation and unease.

Justice Thatcher, always blunt, confronted him in the halls. “You didn’t have to go that far.”

Jason looked her dead in the eye. “The hell I didn’t.”

She studied him, then shook her head. “I hope you’re ready for what comes next.”

Jason only smiled. “I’ve been ready.”

The battle lines had been drawn. And for the first time in years, the Supreme Court had a real fight on its hands.

###

The White House Briefing Room was already a war zone by the time Vicki Smith took the podium. Cameras clicked. Reporters murmured. A storm of questions was waiting to be unleashed, and she could feel the tension in the air like the static before a lightning strike.

She adjusted the microphone, cleared her throat, and gave her best attempt at a confident smile. “Good afternoon, everyone. I know you all have questions about the Supreme Court’s decision in TikTok, Inc. v. Garland, so let’s just jump right in.”

She regretted those words immediately.

A dozen hands shot into the air. Before she could pick one, James Carden from The Washington Post spoke over the others. “Madam Press Secretary, can you explain why the administration believes this ruling is a victory for national security?”

Vicki nodded. “Well, yes. Absolutely. The Supreme Court has… uh… ruled in favor of the government, which means that the government’s position was, you know, the winning position.”

Silence.

Carden squinted. “Yes, but could you clarify how this ruling protects national security?”

“Right. Great question.” She flipped through her notes, searching for something coherent. Nothing. “The, uh, ruling ensures that TikTok will… um… not be able to operate in a way that might be, uh, dangerous. To national security.”

More silence.

Karen Dorsey from Reuters jumped in. “The government argued that TikTok posed a security risk, but no concrete evidence of data misuse was provided. Was the administration comfortable with restricting free speech without definitive proof?”

Vicki plastered on her best “don’t panic” smile. “Well, Karen, I think we have to remember that the Supreme Court, you know, weighed all the… important factors. And those factors were very important. And, uh, weighed.”

A few muffled chuckles from the back.

Carden pressed on. “Justice Simpson’s dissent accused the administration of restricting speech based on ‘hypothetical dangers.’ How does the White House respond to that?”

Vicki knew she was walking into a trap, but there was no way out. “Well, obviously, the government takes, uh, hypotheticals very seriously. Because a hypothetical today could be a real problem tomorrow.”

More murmuring.

She felt sweat forming at the base of her neck. “So, really, it’s about, uh, stopping bad things before they happen. Because we all agree bad things are bad.”

Karen Dorsey blinked. “So… we’re banning apps based on potential bad things now?”

Vicki pointed at another reporter, desperate to change the subject. “Next question!”

Jake Holton from CNN took his chance. “Justice Simpson wrote that this ruling sets a ‘dangerous precedent’ where speech can be restricted based on government paranoia. What’s your response to that?”

Vicki forced a laugh. “Justice Simpson is… well, you know, he’s new.”

Holton tilted his head. “He’s a Supreme Court Justice.”

“Yes, of course.” Vicki scrambled. “But he’s… new in the sense that, uh, he has only just started his work here at the Supreme Court. And sometimes, new people say things that are… very passionate. Passionate things. That are… opinionated.”

Carden jumped back in. “So is the administration saying Justice Simpson is wrong?”

“Oh! I wouldn’t say wrong exactly,” Vicki said quickly. “I would say that… he has an opinion. And it’s a strong opinion. And, um, that’s what dissenting opinions are. Strong. Opinions.”

The press corps was eating this up.

Holton smirked. “So, to clarify, the White House does not believe the ruling is a dangerous precedent?”

Vicki opened her mouth. Closed it. She had no idea how to answer that. “I think… it’s important that we, uh, focus on the real takeaway here, which is that the Supreme Court made a decision. And decisions are… final. Most of the time.”

Karen Dorsey scribbled something in her notepad. Decisions are final. Most of the time. Oh, that was going to look great in print.

Vicki tried to move on. “Let’s take a question from the back—”

Maggie Shepherd from NBC spoke up instead. “Justice Simpson also wrote that this ruling could lead to broader government censorship of online platforms. Does the administration have plans to impose similar restrictions on other apps or websites?”

“No,” Vicki said too quickly.

The room went silent again. She realized her mistake.

“…I mean, not necessarily,” she added, trying to backpedal. “The government has no immediate plans to do anything at this time regarding other apps. But of course, we are always reviewing things. Carefully.”

“Which things?” Holton asked.

Vicki’s stomach sank. “Things that, uh, need reviewing.”

More chuckles from the press. She was spiraling.

Carden leaned forward, clearly sensing weakness. “One more question. Several civil liberties groups are already preparing legal challenges, arguing that this ruling will lead to government overreach. How does the White House respond to concerns that this decision erodes First Amendment protections?”

Vicki gulped. She was definitely supposed to have an answer to this. But she had skimmed that part of the briefing memo because it was too long.

“Well,” she started, “we believe that, um, national security is… very important.”

“Right,” Carden said. “But what about free speech?”

“Oh! Also very important,” Vicki nodded vigorously. “Extremely important.”

“So which one takes priority?”

Vicki’s brain short-circuited. “Uh. Well. That depends.”

Carden raised an eyebrow. “On?”

“Situations.”

Silence.

Someone coughed.

“…Situations,” Holton repeated flatly.

“Yes. Because some situations require certain… uh… considerations.”

More scribbling in notebooks. Vicki could already see the headlines. Press Secretary: Free Speech vs. Security Depends on ‘Situations’.

She grabbed her notecards in a last-ditch effort to regain control. “Okay! Thank you, everyone, that’s all the time we have for today!”

She practically ran off the stage, the sound of reporters shouting behind her. As she burst into the hallway, Phil Grayson, the White House Communications Director, was already waiting with his arms crossed and a look that could kill.

“Vicki.”

She sighed. “I know.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You just told the entire country that ‘bad things are bad’ and that government censorship ‘depends on situations.’”

She winced. “I panicked.”

Phil shook his head. “We are going to spend the next week cleaning this up.”

Vicki groaned. “Do I at least get a snack first?”

Phil just walked away.

Vicki sighed, leaned against the wall, and muttered, “I really need a new job.”