The Rose Conspiracy Read Free

and nodded. Then she rose, turned off her recorder, and threw it and her pad into her purse. Blackstone shook her hand and then blew past her at a fast clip, grabbing a briefcase by the doorway on the run, and headed down the corridor to the lecture hall.
    Most of the seventy-eight students were already in their seats when he hurried in. He strode to the lectern, dropped his briefcase, pulled a yellow notepad out, and slapped it down on the podium. Then J.D. Blackstone began.
    â€œAlright, you minions of Lady Justice, first case— Hamdi v. Rumsfield. Here’s the question: Did the Supreme Court really grant habeas corpus rights to enemy combatants or not?”
    But that is when Blackstone noticed a redheaded male law student standing up and raising his hand.
    The professor of modern criminal law and policy spotted him, cleared his throat, and nodded for him to speak.
    â€œProfessor Blackstone,” the student began. “Today is the last class of the year.”
    â€œCongratulations, Mr. Delbert,” Blackstone shot back. “You’ve mastered the mysteries of the Gregorian calendar, I see.”
    â€œWell, Professor,” the student continued. “You had promised us that on the last class period you would submit yourself to questions from the class. Personal questions.”
    A few students were tittering.
    Blackstone’s face contorted with an overblown expression of pain.
    â€œFine. Okay,” he said with resignation. “But I control the time. You have five minutes. Mr. Delbert, you have showed some admirable boldness here today. Make note of that, students. When in doubt in the practice of law, when lacking in favorable law or strong facts to successfully plead your case, just rely on audacity —it works every time.”
    Several of the students were laughing.
    â€œSo Mr. Delbert, you have the first shot.”
    â€œOkay,” he began with a smirk. “Well, in that case we were to have read for today, Hamdi v. Rumsfield, in the opinion authored by Justice Scalia, he quotes the great eighteenth-century British jurist, SirWilliam Blackstone. I have heard that you are related to him. Is that really true?”
    â€œYes,” Blackstone said. “Much to the mortification of the rest of his descendants I’m sure.”
    More laughter.
    A female law student in the first row raised her hand, fighting back a grin.
    â€œWhat do the ‘J’ and the ‘D’ stand for in your name?” she asked and then quickly sat down.
    â€œThe ‘J’ was my father’s idea. It stands for Justinian, the emperor of Rome in the 500s. His claim to fame, among others, was the Corpus Iurus Civilis. You know it as the Justinian Code. The first codification of the laws of Rome into one unified system. That’s the kind of name you’re stuck with when your father is the Chief Justice of the Illinois Supreme Court and a former President of the American Bar Association.”
    â€œHow about the ‘D’ in your name?” the female student asked.
    â€œThat one came from my mother. She was a music lover. It stands for a Hungarian composer whose name even I have a hard time pronouncing.”
    â€œHungarian?” someone in the class repeated out loud.
    â€œYes,” Blackstone continued. “You see, I am certified ninety-five percent English. That’s the part that makes me so obsessively and coldly analytical.”
    Then he took a long, dramatic pause.
    â€œAnd my other five percent is pure Gypsy.”
    Then he leaned forward to the microphone at the lectern, until his mouth was right up against it, and cocked his eyebrow dramatically.
    â€œAnd that’s the part that makes me dangerous. ”
    The entire class was laughing now.
    While a few corners of the class were still chuckling, the law-school secretary entered the hall and scurried to the podium with a pink note slip in her hand. She quietly apologized for the intrusion,