Supreme Ambitions (27 page)

I started up at Cravath that Monday. They didn't waste any time in putting me to work, staffing me on a collection of cases against Credit Suisse related to residential mortgage-backed securities. The hours were long; my first week in the office, I didn't go home before ten in the evening, not even on Friday. But it was fine. I had worked long hours during my clerkship and I was glad for the distraction. Plunging headlong into work would help me get over things.

I also started exercising—partly to help me get over things, and partly to get back into shape. I had about five extra pounds, picked up during the final stressful weeks of my clerkship, that I wanted to lose. I certainly didn't want to gain more weight (which a number of my law school classmates who went directly to firms after graduation had already done).

One morning, a few weeks into my time at Cravath, I was at the gym running on the treadmill, cranked up to level 8. I had the small television tuned into CNN, but I wasn't paying close attention; it was just something to distract me from my effort. Then a news alert flashed across the screen that did grab my attention:

“Justice Hannah Greenberg, Dead at 83.”

I almost fell off the treadmill. I immediately slowed the treadmill down to 3.5 and listened in to the broadcast. Justice Greenberg—whom everyone had expected to be the next justice to leave the Court, before Justice Keegan's death—had lost her battle with cancer, after a long and valiant struggle. President LaFount, not even done with the first year of
his presidency, would have another vacancy to fill.

That meant another justice on the Court. With four new clerkships to be filled. But not with the likes of me. My former boss, Justice Stinson, would make sure of that.

Surprising many veteran Court watchers, President LaFount nominated a second Ninth Circuit judge in a row: Judge Polanski. It was unusual to have such strong representation on the Supreme Court from a single appeals court (other than the D.C. Circuit), but in other ways the Polanski pick made sense. He was a staple of SCOTUS shortlists in a Republican administration, and his extensive network of loyal law clerks, the Polanski Mafia, was advocating for him strongly behind the scenes. And because President LaFount had recently replaced a white male (Keegan) with a woman of color (Stinson), he now had the leeway to replace a woman (Greenberg) with a man (Polanski).

Judge Polanski's swift confirmation to the Court—given his impeccable credentials, many years of judicial service, and reputation as a judge who truly did follow the law—came as no surprise. What did come as a surprise was the phone call I received a few days after his confirmation.

I was in my office at Cravath, munching on a salad I had ordered from my desk, when my secretary, Debbie, took a call for me.

“Audrey, Justice Polanski is on the line for you.”

I almost spat out a cherry tomato. I swallowed the tomato, chased it with bottled water, and answered the phone in as composed a manner as I could muster.

“Hello, this is Audrey Coyne.”

“Audrey! Frank Polanski here.”

I would have suspected a prank call, perhaps from Jeremy, but that
Polish accent was unmistakable.

“Hello, Justice Polanski,” I said, trying to sound as deferential as possible over the phone. “Congratulations on your confirmation.”

“Thanks, thanks. I detest D.C., but this new job I just got is pretty good, so I'll put up with it. How do you feel about Washington?”

“I haven't been there often, but I've been impressed on the few occasions I have visited. It's a beautiful city.”

“I find it cold—not temperature-wise, although I guess compared to California it is—but architecturally cold. All those monuments. Monolithic gray government buildings. Reminds me of my childhood behind the Iron Curtain. Anyway, how would you like to clerk for me?”

“I beg your pardon, Your Honor?”

“Audrey, you're a young woman—a young, brilliant, beautiful woman—so I'm sure you heard me the first time. How would you like to clerk for me?”

“Is that … is that an offer, Justice Polanski?”

“You could call it that. What's your answer?”

“Uh, shouldn't I send you an application first?”

“I know all I need to know about you. You applied to clerk for me on the Ninth Circuit, so I know that your paper credentials—résumé, transcript, recommendations—are stellar. I got to see some of your work product during your clerkship year, in terms of opinions and en banc memos you worked on—also excellent.”

“Thank you, Justice. But maybe you want to interview me?”

“Nah. I know you're smart enough for me, so the interview would just be to see if you pass the ‘dinner test'—as in, can I have dinner with this person and not hate them or be bored by the end? And you already passed that test. As you may recall, we sat next to each other at the law clerk orientation last year.”

“Yes, that's right …”

“Most important, I know that you're a young lawyer of great integrity. One of my former law clerks, Lucia Aroldi, speaks very highly of you. And let's just say that I know, from Lucia, that you share my concern for
the rule of law—especially in the area of jurisdiction.”

Lucia must have told him about
Geidner
. I didn't ask for any credit when I clued her in to the jurisdictional problem, but I guess she gave me credit anyway.

“As you may have noticed during your clerkship year,” Justice Polanski said, “I am—at the risk of sounding immodest—a very principled jurist. I follow the law where it takes me; I don't twist it to serve my political ends. And I get the sense that you share my views.”

“Absolutely, Your Honor. I most certainly do.”

“One other thing. Unlike your old boss, I draft most of my own opinions. My clerks help me with research and editing. After they've worked with me for a few months, I let clerks try their hand at a little drafting—but when a clerk drafts something, I edit it to within an inch of its life. I enjoy the law so much that I can't help immersing myself in the nitty-gritty—and I'm a bit selfish, in that I like to keep a lot of the fun of writing for myself. I hope that that's okay with you.”

“I'd welcome the opportunity to learn the judicial craft as your apprentice. That was always my vision of what a judge does and what a clerkship should be.”

“So, how about it? Don't make me beg. Will you clerk for me, Audrey Coyne?”

“I would be honored, Justice Polanski.”

The next day I found myself at LaGuardia Airport's Marine Air Terminal, the beautiful old Art Deco building that's home to Delta's shuttle between New York and Washington. Justice Polanski wanted me to head down to D.C. immediately; as I knew from Lucia, everything was an emergency with him. I planned to crash with Harvetta for a few days while I looked for an apartment of my own. After I found my own place in Washington, my parents would drive down with the rest of my stuff.

I was sitting at the Yankee Clipper restaurant, having a coffee and reading the
New York Times
, when out of the corner of my eye I spied a fearsome sight: Justice Stinson, trailed by two guards with earpieces and a pretty, petite Eurasian woman who looked like a 20-something version of Christina Wong Stinson (and, by extension, me).

I froze. Had the judge seen me? When I could move again, I picked up the
Times
, folded it out as expansively as I could, and buried my face in an article about a string of poisoning deaths in Pakistan.

“Audrey?”

I raised my head slowly—a sign of my guilt, I belatedly realized, because an innocent party would have looked up quickly to see who it was—and met the judge's gaze. She was dressed head to toe in bright cobalt blue, in a pantsuit with matching shoes and handbag, which was perhaps why she jumped out at me visually from the drab masses.

“Hello, Justice Stinson.”

I rose to my feet, putting the newspaper to one side—slowly, not like
how I hurriedly dropped the coffee-table book during my clerkship interview—and reached out for a handshake.

“Audrey, it's lovely to see you. Come here.”

Instead of shaking my hand, the smiling judge moved in for a hug. What do you do when a Supreme Court justice tries to hug you? We hugged.

“So you're heading to D.C. this morning?” she asked.

“Yes. What brings you to New York, Justice Stinson?”

“I came up here last night to deliver a speech at Columbia Law School in honor of Justice Greenberg—the inaugural lecture in what will be an annual series—and now I'm going back to Washington. What's taking you to D.C.? A case you're working on?”

“Actually, I'm heading down to clerk for Justice Polanski.”

I relished the look of shock that briefly crossed Justice Stinson's face before she composed herself. She then waved over the young woman, who was standing a respectful distance behind the justice.

“Audrey, this is Phoebe, who will be clerking for me at the Court. Phoebe, this is Audrey, who clerked for me on the Ninth Circuit—and who will now be clerking for Justice Polanski. Thanks to Audrey, my record as a feeder judge continues, even though I'm now a justice!”

The judge chuckled at her self-congratulatory comment while Phoebe and I shook hands.

“It's nice to meet you,” Phoebe said. “I've heard a lot about you.”

“Don't believe any of it!” I said, laughing nervously. A stock response, but I meant it—who knew what Justice Stinson had said about me?

“Audrey, you'll always have a special place among my former clerks. Phoebe, I'd like to chat with Audrey for a moment. Why don't you take the guards and meet me by the gate?”

Phoebe bowed to excuse herself and then left with “the guards.” Was this LaGuardia Airport in the 21st century, or some kind of medieval court?

With just the two of us present, and nobody else within earshot in the noisy restaurant, I waited for Justice Stinson's condemnation. It would
be unseemly to argue with a Supreme Court justice in public, so I'd have to endure the tongue-lashing as well as possible.

“You know, Audrey, I meant what I just said. You will always stand out among my clerks.”

“Thank you, Justice.”

“I don't mean it entirely as a compliment,” she said icily—followed by a grin, so anyone watching us would think we were having a friendly chat. “We will always be tied together, whether we like it or not. I do admire you for managing to get what you wanted in the end, despite your betrayal of me—or perhaps because of it.”

“Justice Stinson, I wouldn't call it a betrayal so much as a …”

“You're an improbable person, Audrey, but so am I. We have that in common—along with difficulty in loving or being loved, and ambition—insatiable ambition.”

“I didn't do what I did for ambition,” I said. “I did it for the law. The rule of law, which I hope to advance while clerking for Justice Polanski—a principled jurist, who exposed the jurisdictional defect in
Geidner
. That's what being a judge requires: upholding the law. It's not about the power and prestige.”

The justice waved her exquisite hand dismissively. “So say you, about to start your Supreme Court clerkship. What else is there besides power and prestige? Don't be ridiculous. Everybody wants this. Everybody wants to be us.”

“Not everybody is in this for the same reasons. Some just love the law, from its grand doctrines to its minute details. Like my friend Harvetta, who's clerking for Justice Wilson—she reads law reviews for fun. Or like Justice Polanski—he writes his own opinions because he enjoys it so much.”

“Oh, you and your beloved Justice Polanski. You'll find working for him to be … interesting. He does love the law, and he is a great legal mind, but you will soon find that he has certain … idiosyncrasies. You will come to know them if you haven't seen them already.”

The way she said it seemed calculated to unnerve me—and it did—but
I concealed my anxiety, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

“I know Frank very well,” she continued. “We've been rivals at times, yes, but colleagues and friends too. I know things about him that very few people know—things I've kept to myself over the years, even when the FBI came sniffing around just now as part of his Supreme Court vetting. Suffice it to say that you will find him as a person to be quite … unique.”

“I'm sure I'll learn a lot from clerking for Justice Polanski,” I said.

“But not as much as you learned from clerking for me,” Justice Stinson said with a smile. “Anyone can teach legal doctrine or legal writing. I taught you about how things work in the real world. I taught you about power—how to get it and how to use it. Don't ever forget the lessons I taught you.”

“I will never forget them, Justice Stinson.”

“And remember this: regardless of our differences, I will always be your judge, and you will always be my clerk.”

I nodded, slowly and solemnly. She was right about that, at least.

“Well, Audrey, it was very nice seeing you, but I really must be going,” Justice Stinson said, looking down at her jewel-encrusted Patek Philippe. “I will see you at the Court.”

“Yes, Justice Stinson. Have a safe trip to Washington.”

She leaned in, enveloping me in the scent of Chanel No. 5, and we hugged again.

“Remember,” she whispered, “there is
always
somewhere else to go. Always.”

Thank you to my editor, Jon Malysiak, without whom I could have never finished this book. I first had the idea for
Supreme Ambitions
back in 2005, but it wasn't until Jon entered the picture that I started to make any real progress. Throughout the entire process of turning a concept and some rough sample chapters into a finished work, Jon was not just an (excellent) editor, but also a cheerleader, therapist, and friend.

Thank you to Jon, Tim Brandhorst, and Bryan Kay for their willingness to take on an unusual project and to support it with unflagging enthusiasm. Thank you to Rebecca Bender and Kelvin Kelsey for great copyediting that went well beyond copy, Elmarie Jara for her elegant and eye-catching cover design, and Neal Cox and Sonali Oberg for their contributions on the publicity front.

Thank you to all my friends, more folks than I can possibly name here, for more than I can possibly mention here. My gratitude includes, but is not limited to, their taking an interest in this project; their wise advice on writing, editing, and promoting a book; their comments on parts of the manuscript; and, most of all, their friendship.

Thank you to all my colleagues at Above the Law and Breaking Media, especially Elie Mystal, Staci Zaretsky, Joe Patrice, and John Lerner, for being such fun to work with and so supportive of my literary endeavors (which occasionally took me away from my day-to-day duties on ATL).

Thank you to Mark and Jane Shemtob for making their beautiful lake house in the Berkshires available to me as a writer's retreat—and, more
importantly, for being such a wonderful presence in my life over the past few years.

Thank you to Brianne Gorod, Judge Richard Posner, and Zachary Baron Shemtob for their insightful comments on early drafts. And special thanks to Zach for putting up with me during this long and sometimes stressful journey (and, of course, more generally).

Thank you to Chief Judge Alex Kozinski for being an early supporter of my writing career, dating back to Underneath Their Robes, and for his comments on the manuscript.

Thank you to Judge Diarmuid F. O'Scannlain for being such a superb boss, role model, and mentor. Thank you to my co-clerks—William Birdthistle, Ryan Bounds, and John Demers—for making my clerkship year so memorable, as well as for their continued friendship over the years.

Thank you, finally, to my family, scattered across continents but united by love. Special thanks to my parents, Emmanuel and Zenda Lat, and my sister Charlene—I owe them everything, and to them I dedicate this book.