Sheila McCarthy was enduring the morning's torture on the treadmill when she hit the stop button and gawked at the television in disbelief. The ad ran at 7:29, smack in the middle of the local news. It began with the provocative sight of two well-dressed young men kissing passionately while a minister of some variety smiled behind them.
A husky voice-over announced, "Same-sex marriages are sweeping the country. In places like Massachusetts, New York, and California, laws are being challenged. Advocates of gay and lesbian marriages are pushing hard to force their lifestyles on the rest of our society." A still photo of a wedding couple- male and female-at the altar was suddenly desecrated with a bold black X. "Liberal judges are sympathetic to the rights of same-sex marriages." The photo was replaced with a video of a group of happy lesbians waiting to tie the knot in a mass ceremony "Our families are under attack from homosexual activists and the liberal judges who support them." Next was a quick video of a mob burning an American flag. The voice said, "Liberal judges have approved the burning of our flag." Then a quick shot of a magazine rack lined with copies of Hustler. "Liberal judges see nothing wrong with pornography." Then a photo of a smiling family, mother and father and four children. "Will liberal judges destroy our families?”
the narrator inquired ominously, leaving little doubt that they would if given half a chance. The family photo was ripped apart into two jagged pieces. Suddenly the handsome but serious face of Ron Fisk appeared. He looked sincerely at the camera and said, "Not in Mississippi. One man. One woman. I'm Ron Fisk, candidate for the supreme court. And I approved this ad.”
Dripping with sweat, her heart pounding even faster, Sheila sat on the floor and tried to think. The weatherman was prattling on, but she didn't hear him. She lay down on her back, stretched out her arms and legs, and took deep breaths.
Gay marriage was a dead issue in Mississippi and would remain so forever. No one with an audience or a following had dared to suggest that the laws be changed to allow it. Every member of the state legislature could be expected to rail against it. Only one judge in the entire state- Phil Shingleton-had addressed it, and he had dismissed the Meyerchec/ Spano lawsuit in record speed. The supreme court would probably deal with that case in a year or so, but Sheila expected a rather terse review followed by a quick 9-0 vote affirming Judge Shingleton.
How, exactly, had she now been cast as a liberal judge who supported gay marriage?
The room was spinning. At a commercial break, she tensed and waited for another assault, but there was nothing but the squawking of a car dealer and frantic urgings of a discount-furniture retailer.
Fifteen minutes later, though, the ad was back. She lifted her head and watched in disbelief as the same images followed the same voice.
Her phone was ringing. Caller ID told her not to answer. She showered and dressed in a hurry and at 8:30 walked into her headquarters with a wide smile and warm "Good morning." The four volunteers were subdued. Three televisions were running three different programs. Nat was in his office yelling at someone on the phone. He slammed the phone down, waved her inside, then closed the door behind her.
"You've seen it?" he said.
"Twice," she said softly. On the surface, she seemed unfazed. Everyone else was rattled, and it was important to at least try to appear calm.
"Total saturation," he said. "Jackson, Gulf Coast, Hattiesburg, Laurel, every fifteen minutes on all stations. Plus radio.”
"What kind of juice do you have?”
"Carrot," he said and opened his small refrigerator. "They're burning money, which, of course, means they're raking it in by the truckload. Typical ambush. Wait until October 1, then push the button and start printing cash. They did it last year in Illinois and Alabama. Two years ago in Ohio and Texas." He poured two cups as he spoke.
"Sit down and relax, Nat," she said. He did not.
"Attack ads must be answered in kind," he said. "And quickly.”
"I'm not sure this is an attack ad. He never mentions my name.”
"He doesn't have to. How many liberal judges are running against Mr. Fisk?”
"None that I know of.”
"As of this morning, dear, you are now officially a liberal judge.”
"Really? I don't feel any different.”
"We have to answer this, Sheila.”
"I'm not getting dragged into a mudslinging fight over gay marriage.”
Nat finally wiggled himself into his chair and shut up. He drank his juice, stared at the floor, and waited for his breathing to relax.
She took a sip of carrot juice, then said with a smile, "This is deadly, isn't it?”
"The juice?”
"The ad.”
"Potentially, yes. But I'm working on something." He reached into a pile of rubble next to his desk and pulled out a thin file. He opened it and lifted three sheets of paper clipped together. "Listen to this. Mr. Meyerchec and Mr. Spano leased an apartment on April 1 of this year. We have a copy of the lease. They waited thirty days, as required by law, then registered to vote. The next day, May 2, they applied for Mississippi driver's licenses, took the exam, and passed. The Department of Public Safety issued licenses on May 4. A couple of months passed, during which there is no record of employment, business licenses, nothing official to indicate they were working here.
Remember, they claim to be self-employed illustrators, whatever the hell that is.”
He was riffling through the papers, checking facts here and there. "A survey of the illustrators who advertise various services in the yellow pages revealed that no one knows Meyerchec or Spano. Their apartment is in a big complex, lots of units, lots of neighbors, none of whom can remember seeing them. In gay circles, not a single person who was contacted has ever met them.”
"Contacted by whom?”
"Hang on. Then they try to get a marriage license, and the rest of the story has been in the newspapers.”
"Contacted by whom?”
Nat arranged the papers in the file and closed it. "This is where it gets interesting.
Last week I received a call from a young man who described himself as a gay law student here in Jackson. He gave me his name and the name of his partner, another law student.
They're not in the closet, but not exactly ready for the Gay Pride Parade. They were intrigued by the Meyerchec/Spano case, and when it exploded into a campaign issue, they, like a few other folks with brains, began to get suspicious. They know a lot of the gays here in town, and they began to ask about Meyerchec and Spano. No one knows them. In fact, the gay community was suspicious from the day the lawsuit was filed. Who are these guys? Where did they come from? The law students decided to find the answers. They've called the Meyerchec/Spano phone number five times a day, at different hours, and never gotten an answer. For thirty-six days now, they've made their calls. No answer. They've talked to the neighbors. Never a sighting. No one saw them move in. They've knocked on the door, peeked in the windows. The apartment is barely furnished, nothing on the walls. To make themselves real citizens, Meyerchec and Spano paid $3,000 for a used Saab, titled in both names like a real married couple, then bought Mississippi car tags. The Saab is parked in front of their apartment and hasn't moved in thirty-six days.”
"Where might this be going?" she asked.
"I'm getting there. Now, our two law students have found them, in Chicago, where Meyerchec owns a gay bar and Spano works as an interior designer. The students are willing, for a little cash, to fly to Chicago, spend a few days, hang out in the bar, infiltrate, gather information.”
"Information for what?”
"Information that, hopefully, will prove that they are not residents of this state; that their presence here was a sham; that someone is using them to exploit the gay marriage issue; and maybe that they are not even a couple in Chicago. If we can prove that, then I'll go to the Clarion-Ledger, the Biloxi Sun Herald, and every other newspaper in the state and deliver the goods.
We can't win a fight on this issue, dear, but we can damned sure fight back.”
She drained her glass and shook her head in disbelief. "Do you think Fisk is this smart?”
"Fisk is a pawn, but, yes, his handlers are this smart. It's a cynical scheme, and it's brilliant. No one thinks about gay marriage here because it will ............