Free Capitol Threat by William Bernhardt Page A

Americans—I’m not so sure. I don’t expect to be invited on
Total Request Live
anytime soon.” More chuckles. Very nice. Pity he would eventually have to say something serious. “So I invited you to my home to ask me whatever questions might be appropriate. I must warn you, though, when I made my full disclosure in the Rose Garden, I did so in the spirit of honesty and forthrightness—and frankly, to avoid having it revealed in some tawdry way that would inevitably give the impression that I was hiding something. I was not, however, attempting to make my nomination a referendum on gay rights, which would be grossly inappropriate. Nor was I throwing the door open on my private life. My private life is just that, and I see no reason why that should change. There is no precedent for invading the personal privacy of a Supreme Court nominee, and I do not see any reason to start one. Nor will I be willing to answer any hypothetical questions regarding how I might rule on particular judicial or political issues.”
    Okay, this part, not so good, Ben thought quietly. The press never like to be told what they cannot do. It almost guaranteed that they would try to do it.
    Roush smiled. “I will be more than happy, however, to entertain questions that relate to my qualifications for the job for which I have been nominated.”
    He didn’t get any. “Judge Roush,” said an attractive brunette in the front row. Ben thought he recognized her from a CBS news show. “Did you inform the President of your homosexuality during your prenomination interviews?”
    Roush sighed, obviously disappointed. “I don’t recall that he ever asked me about my sexual preference. Nor, for that matter, did I ask him about his.” Another light round of guffaws. “Why would it come up? It has nothing to do with my qualifications to sit on the Supreme Court.”
    “There are millions of Americans who might disagree with you.”
    “Not if they were the nominee, they wouldn’t.”
    All things considered, he was handling this rather well, Ben thought. Admirably. Particularly for a political novice.
    “Throughout the most recent decades,” Roush added, “we’ve seen a continual erosion of standards in our political discourse. Topics that would’ve been taboo before are now openly explored. Invasions into the sex lives of public figures are rationalized as reflecting on ‘character’ or ‘trustworthiness,’ when in fact they are just excuses to engage in the most scurrilous tabloid forms of reportage. The only way that I can see to stop this trend is to refuse to participate. So I will. And I urge each of you to do the same.”
    In the dead center of the throng, a man with more hair spray than hair spoke. “Can you confirm or deny rumors that the President will withdraw his support from your nomination?”
    Roush shook his head. “I’m not going to talk about rumors at all. Rumors are not news. I can tell you that no one—including the President—has indicated to me that he will withdraw his support.” He paused, a small smile playing on his lips. “And I personally find it difficult to imagine that he would.”
    Roush was right of course, Ben thought. Much as the President might like to pull out of this mess, he couldn’t. It was one thing to oppose gay marriage or gay health benefits; it was quite another to cancel the nomination of a man he had said was eminently qualified for the job simply because he emerged from the closet. Even if it wasn’t illegal, it smacked of bigotry and prejudice. The press would eat him alive.
    “Do you think,” another brunette, this time an NBC anchor, asked, “that the Senate will confirm your nomination?”
    “I think it would be foolish to make predictions in advance of facts.” He paused, then grinned. “But they should.”
    “The Judiciary Committee is mostly Republican—”
    “So am I,” Roush replied.
    A voice from the back shouted, “Could we meet your partner?”
    “No, I don’t