AMENDMENT IV

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Jake was the one who brought the article to Evie's attention.

"Something happened to your friend, Mom," he said, frowning down at the newspaper. (Jake's history teacher had demanded that the class read at least the headlines of the newspaper daily, to keep up with current events, so he had pounced on the Washington Post while Evie was still pouring orange juice.)

"May I?" she asked, setting down her fork, and he handed the paper over, flipped below the fold so that she could read the headline printed there.

SUPREME COURT NOMINEE ARRESTED IN CT.; Mendoza Detained by Police for Several Hours

"Oh my god," muttered Evie, her hand unconsciously flying up to her mouth in shock as she read.

"Do you think this'll tank his nomination?" asked Jake.

"Not necessarily." The article was not at all forthcoming in details, but it ended by noting that ultimately no charges had been brought against Roberto, with a final quote from the police chief reiterating once more to the reporter that the arrest had clearly been a tremendous mistake on the arresting officers' part. That all seemed promising, she hoped.

"You should call him," Jake said.

"You've been saying that for weeks," Evie reminded him, tossing the paper onto the table. "He's probably got all sorts of people calling him right now, people who are a lot more important and relevant to his life than I am. I don't want to bother him unnecessarily."

"If you say so," Jake shrugged, standing up and depositing his plate into the kitchen sink. "But I seriously don't think that many people flip out just because their friends are trying to be supportive. If he's too busy to say hello, he just won't take your call."

Evie spent the better part of her morning trying to rebut this logic, but by midday, she had to concede that her son was probably right. With a sigh, she looked up the phone number of the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of New York.

"Office of Judge Roberto Mendoza. May I ask who's speaking?"

"Hi, this is Evelyn Lang," Evie answered automatically. "I'm a former colleague of Judge Mendoza's, and I was wondering if he's in?"

"Just a moment, please." The receptionist put Evie on hold for a few moments before returning. "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"

"Evie Baker," Evie corrected herself. "We worked together on the Scarborough case as Assistant U.S. Attorneys, back in the day."

The receptionist put her on hold again to relay this new information, and within a few seconds, the other end picked up.

" 'Evie Baker from the Scarborough case'?" Roberto's gruff, deliberate voice chuckled into the phone. "You do realize that I still remember who you are, even if you might have fallen off the face of the earth, for all I've seen you around recently?"

"I was just trying to cover my bases!" Evie argued. "It's been over fifteen years since Scarborough, shocking as it is to realize that, and I have a different last name now."

"And, what, we haven't been in touch since then?" Evie could just imagine Roberto shaking his head at her. "How the hell are things? How's the Fourth Circuit been treating you?"

"Wonderful – thank you for your note, by the way, since I don't think I ever followed up at the time. It's been a fantastic experience so far. I can't complain about anything, really."

"Your family?"

"Well, thanks. Yours?"

"Same."

"And how about you?"

Roberto was silent for a moment, and then released a long sigh.

"Yeah, more or less."

"The Post ran a pretty vague article about what happened the other night," Evie said. "Are you OK?"

"The Post ran an article?" To Evie's surprise, Roberto laughed. "Oh, Jesus. Toby Ziegler isn't going to rest until he's hanged, drawn, and quartered whomever leaked the lead."

"Toby Ziegler?"

"My chief White House watchdog. He's trying to impose a gag order on me that covers my entire life from now until whenever the Senate finally gives me a vote."

"Sounds like it'll cramp your style quite a bit."

"What can I say, Evie? This whole thing has been a rougher ride than I'd have thought. I know the Administration is on my side, but I've just about reached the end of my tether with the process. And then this mess in Connecticut..."

"It sounds like you'll be fine politically," Evie reassured him. "No charges pressed, and a public admission of error from the police, according to the article I read."

"Well, be that as it may, my dignity's certainly been put through the mill."

"Can I ask what happened, if you feel like sharing?"

"This is off the record, obviously. Some cops pulled me over and accused me of driving while intoxicated, which, as you well know, couldn't have happened."

This was true: Evie still vividly remembered bringing a bottle of wine over to the Mendozas' place years and years ago, only to be discreetly informed by Laura, to Evie's lasting mortification, that a glass of alcohol could easily kill Roberto, thanks to his hepatitis.

"So they made you take a breathalyzer test?"

"They tried. But I didn't feel like playing along with that sort of bullshit, so I challenged them on what was clearly an unreasonable search, and they responded by charging me with resisting arrest and disorderly conduct. And they cuffed me for allegedly getting too confrontational. Cuffed me. In front of my son, Evie. Definitely rates up there amongst the worse moments of my life."

"God." She shook her head. "I can't even imagine, Rob. I'm so sorry."

"Well, it's not the first time I've been pulled over for driving while Hispanic," grumbled Roberto bitterly. "Although this was certainly the first time a pair of White House staffers turned up to say anything about it. The police apologized after they were informed that their grounds for searching me in the first place amounted to a case of medical impossibility. At least they had the courtesy to be ashamed when they were called on the fact that this was a case of racial profiling, pure and simple."

"When you're finally confirmed, you'll be the one calling incidents like these out for what they are, loudly enough for the entire nation to hear."

"Ever the optimist, as usual. Why don't you come up to New York anymore? It's been, what, two, three years?"

"Oh, you know. Work, school, life, so forth. With any luck, you'll be down in my neighborhood soon, though."

"You're still in Baltimore?"

"College Park, actually, since about five years ago – Bill's tenured at U of Maryland now. So we're just outside the Beltway."

"Huh." Roberto sounded amused. "Well, I didn't realize that you were so close to D.C. Next time the folks in the West Wing insist that I come down to Washington to repent for having the temerity to say the occasional word aloud, I'll drop you a line."

"I'll hold you to it," Evie agreed. "And I insist on treating you to dinner once you've relocated down here permanently."

"Sure."

"You still don't sound like you believe it's going to happen."

"I'm not going to believe it until I've taken the oath of office."

"We're all rooting for you," Evie told him. "You'll be phenomenal on the bench, once you get there. Take care, until then?"

"Thanks, Evie. You take care, too."

"And Roberto?"

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations." A smile spread across Evie's face. "I should have called to say as much the instant I heard the news. Sorry it's taken me so long."

"Don't worry about it. It's good to hear from you. See you in the District sometime?"

"See you in the District sometime."