her hand raises, fingertips brushing the trembling glass, as if she can already feel its resistance waning. > cf. people v. smallwood, 306 mich 49, 55; 10 nw2d 303 (1943), she growls, each word weighted with the torment of past injustice. a wicked gleam flashes across her face, her fingers clenching into a fist as she raises it higher, staring down the glass as if preparing to break through not only its surface but the sanctity of what it holds. her voice grows softer, more sinister, as she utters her next words. > a state must give one whom it deprives of his freedom, she intones darkly, > the opportunity to open an inquiry into the intrinsic fairness of a criminal process even though it appears proper on the surface. she leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper as she quotes, her gaze never leaving the document within. > carter v. illinois, 329 u.s. 173, 175; 67 s.ct. 216, 218; 91 l.ed. 172 (1946). with a final, violent movement, she drives her hand forward, shattering the weakened glass. shards splinter and fall, slicing across her hand as she reaches through, unflinching, allowing the blood to trickle down her fingers and onto the sacred parchment below. the crimson drops mark the surface of the constitution, a silent testament to her years of suffering and rage, an indelible stain on the document she now holds. her voice resonates, thick with wrath and purpose, her eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. > even so, she says, her voice steady but laced with venom, > the great and leading intent of the law must be kept constantly in view her hand tightens around the constitution, pulling it free from its case as her words echo, final and damning, into the empty rotunda. > ex parte yeager, 75 u.s. (8 wall) 85; 19 l.ed. 332 (1869), she concludes, blood staining the ancient words beneath her grip.
United States