Pool_2

This last, "Hmmmm. Got a point, there," drew a fast and full length kick in the ankle from Shannon who, to deliver it, braced both hands on the table. Macaluso pled ignorance, but Dorothy Bela couldn't help but laugh out loud. Dry, huh? "Suture!" holding out her hand palm down in a surgeon's gesture as if to place him more in his own environment. Macaluso was uncomfortable in this environment. A law school. Nation of laws. The idea finally galled him. That phrase! It finally clicked. Repeated so often it seemed to be a reality, a prime of our structure, rather than a trick of mirrors. A diversion. A theft! Judges have so many in their quiver and can select to their whim. Blame the arrow whose poison was so carefully chosen for its effect - not the judge - nation of laws, not men. Ten judges ten different outcomes, so where's the fucking law? He was angering to his own assimilations. Where in our constitution does it actually say that? He only recalled, WE THE PEOPLE. He thought, our land... our well being... of the people, by the people, for the people... FOR THE PEOPLE, that's it, that's the measure, the ruler, the line not to be crossed... law is just words and words to a highest bidder... where the hell is justice? Equity! Justice drives populations together and injustice drives them to war. Nations of law, rigidity, resoluteness against inevitable change are nations on the brink. Justice is a pain in the ass to law, making it harder to sell. The amenities that were being exchanged were miles away, muffled background to the jumble of his concerns, Law... crooks... law... letters of law.. contracts... lawyers... hired guns.. school for hire and hired guns... whose?... highest bidders... money.. We have no money. We are their food. Shannon did not care whether Price initiated this meeting out of Irish friendship or for business points. That was irrelevant, as she later argued to Marcus during their drive