1 Law 4 All

By Billy Angel

Greed, Arrogance, Power and Pride versus Fairness, Generosity, Innocence and Justice

Novels written by Billy Angel pierce the cloak of political perception surrounding Washington DC. 1 Law 4 All is an aggressive tale portraying the inner workings of the brutal and erotic creature that is politics in the United States today.

The human nature exhibited by the characters is far from fictional. Revenge catalyzes their actions in a terrifyingly, plausible style. Political power truly exposes the darkest corners of the character's souls.

1 Law 4 All is a stirring saga of revenge erupting from a catastrophic event in the life of a young Samoan girl. Kitiona Tuafa reluctantly leaves her home in American Samoa to find her family's killers. Her adventure begins in the City of San Francisco and eventually reaches into the halls of the United States Congress.

While being stalked, harassed and chased around the City, Kitiona stumbles upon a retired legal professional and, eventually, an idealistic, ragtag group of law students. Together, they theorize who masterminded the fire that killed Kitiona's family, only to be terrorized themselves by the same group of killers. These events launch Kitiona and her group on a journey that throws suspicion in the direction of a Senator, a mob boss and a multi-national corporation.

1 Law 4 All portrays simple-minded politics in a plausible manner. The storyline skillfully merges daily drama with life's little pleasures. As the existence of good and evil becomes evident, the artfully contrived personal exchanges of the characters draw the reader into the book's reality.

"Things do not happen. Things are made to happen." - JFK

Addicted to Politics? Believe politicians should live by the same laws as us?

Billy Angel's 1 Law 4 All series will have you cheering for the good guys!

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456610494

Billy Angel

Bill was born in the Midwest. He was educated on the West Coast in California. He's earned Bachelor's, Master's, and Doctorate degrees in various fields of health and education.Bill started Sunset Angel Productions, LLC. Besides producing phone applications and short stories, he works part-time as a basketball consultant.Bill authors a political blog seeking justice for the American people. He feels all laws should be applied equally to law makers, citizens and non-citizens. He believes in a common sense approach to governance.Bill resides with his beautiful wife, Roberta. They have four children and six grandchildren. He describes living in Hawaii as "far from the maddening crowds."

Book preview

vain.

Prologue

Fire, Fire were the cries on the streets. Flames exploded throughout the wood framed home. A sunset-red glowed above the quiet Samoan community.

A horrified, 3am crowd, gathered around the burning home. The intense fire kept everyone at bay. Not even relatives or close friends of the Tuafa family could get closer than thirty feet.

Questions bounced around the crowd. Anyone see Patea, Malie, Siali or Kitiona? Did anyone get out? How did this start? What can we do?

By the time the volunteer fire fighters arrived, the home slowly smoldered as if saying, rest in peace. The smell of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air. People's sobs and prayers whispered into the early morning haze. A feeling of hopelessness settled upon the crowd.

As the fire fighters hosed down the house's glowing embers, two men watched from the street's shadows. They observed the crowd's reactions. They made sure that no one escaped the burning house. Confident that they had killed everyone in the house, they walked down the road to their rented car.

They sped off, the younger man considering their night's work. He had silently crawled under the house and drilled holes in the floor of every room. He pumped pints of inflaming gel through the holes. This was to accelerate the fire from inside.

The older man drenched the outside walls with fire gel, paying special attention to covering the doors and windows. He even poured what he had left on the motor scooter leaning against the outside wall.

Then they both danced around the house throwing lit match books every several feet. As the house caught fire they raced into the shadows a hundred yards down the street.

He and his partner had set a few fires in Europe. In the underworld circles they were known as the 'pyros'. They were for hire mercenaries with no baggage.

A private, small plane was waiting for them when they arrived at the airport. Going home in style, the younger man said.

This plane is only taking us to New Zealand. We have a flight from Auckland, back to Rome, cazzaro. The older man corrected him annoyed at the younger man's stupidity.

After boarding, the older man made a call from the plane's satellite phone. When the person on the other end answered, the older man said, Our vacation is over.

The person on the other end knew what that meant. That was code for Patea Tuafa and his family are dead. Good, he replied.

The plane took off and headed east over the Pacific Ocean from American Samoa. The two men relaxed. The younger man started to size up the flight attendant. Is she part of the package? he asked the older man.

That's up to her. He had a get real tone in his voice while smiling at the flight attendant.

Sandy, the flight attendant, was a member of the mile high club, several times over. If she wanted either one of these bozos, they were hers for the taking. But Sandy dismissed any mile high activities for now, at least with these guys.

She walked down the aisle to them. Would you like something to drink?

Yes, vodka, one said. The other echoed, me too.

Sandy brought them each double vodkas on the rocks. Then, she insisted that they fasten their seat belts. Sometimes it can get a bit bumpy up there, she said looking up for a moment.

The pyro guys toasted, clicked glasses and knocked down their drinks. The younger man held up his glass indicating he wanted another.

Sandy had her seat belt fastened in the jump seat. She said, After we level off. That first one will do you fine in a few minutes.

The plane taxed to the runway. The captain received clearance and the jet took off. The captain climbed to 5000 feet and held the plane level.

Within several minutes the poison in the vodka drinks began taking effect. The two men thrashed around. In a few minutes more, they stopped moving and appeared frozen inside their seat belts.

The attendant buzzed the pilot. He slowed the plane, dropped to 2000 feet. He switched to autopilot. He approached the attendant who unbuckled the two men. The bodies rolled out of their seats onto the floor. They dragged the two bodies to the back of the plane. They propped them on the cabin wall next to the exit door.

The pilot and the attendant tethered themselves to the plane. They opened the exit door and rolled the bodies towards the open door. The vacuum produced by the open door, sucked both bodies out into the morning's blue abyss.

The attendant closed the door. She looked at the pilot and coldly said, fish bait.

Chapter 1 Chances Are

Original Joes is a San Francisco landmark restaurant. Several items on their Italian menu are imitated all over the West Coast. Tourists and locals alike frequent one of the last masculine bars in the City.

Men are attracted to the mahogany trimmed bar area daily tended by good looking female bartenders. They keep their patrons happy every night until the 2am closing.

Last call was like declaring the end of the night's adventure. Being famous kept the locals frequenting the joint. From night to night, they never knew what celebrity might venture into their lives.

Mac and Jimmy frequented Joe's. Within the past year they had spotted movie stars, radio personalities and a variety of elected politicians from the very bar stools they were sitting on tonight. They scanned the bar area every few minutes in between sips of their drinks.

They shared the second story flat in an apartment building near the corner of Jones and Ellis streets. Joes was, along with twenty or so other eating joints, within easy walking distance. One of the charms the City afforded its tenants walking access to all of life’s basic needs. There seemed to be a bar, a laundromat, mom and pop market and a drug dealer on most of the City’s corners.

Italian food was basic need for Mac, not so much for Jimmy. Edinburgh Castle was more to Jimmy’s liking. The rustic, Ole English Pub atmosphere, and the dark, heavy flavored beer were part of Jimmy’s English-Irish heritage.

Mac and Jimmy valued being flexible in food matters. Theirs was a relationship based on high school experiences, appreciation of openness, law school and good old fashion kidding.

That evening they were discussing why sports in September were so much fun. Mac liked the pennant races and the anticipation of the baseball playoffs. Jimmy was looking forward to the start of the football season.

Funny the only sport they played together in high school was basketball. Their basketball minds had merged years ago, so talking was a mere formality. Slam dunk was their favorite term to describe a sure thing. Their favorite Wii game was NBA Challenge.

They were both looking into the massive mirror behind the bar. Mac tilted his head towards the mirror. He wanted Jimmy to take note of two guys dressed in dark suits pushing their way through the standing-room only bar crowd.

Jimmy seized the opportunity to make fun of their intensity. Those men in black must be looking for an alien from the planet Uranus.

Mac chuckled. It looks like their fast break is being slowed down by some full court, crowd pressure.

The two black-op types brushed off the dinner room hostess and walked gingerly into the dining area. The squared jaw man with the crew cut kept putting his hand in his coat as if to stabilize something.

Do you think crew cut is packing? Jimmy questioned.

If he is, it’s none of our business. Mac pushed back his bar stool. I'm headed off to the bathroom.

You know what they say about beer. You don’t buy it, you rent it.

Mac smiled. If he had a dollar for all the times Jimmy had said that very phrase, he could buy a round-trip ticket to Hawaii. Mac walked towards the back of the restaurant thinking of tropical drinks and hula girls.

Mac entered the semi-dark hallway leading to the bathrooms and the alley exit. He heard muffled sobbing. He followed the noise to the women’s bathroom door. He opened it and peeked in thinking I'm not a pervert, just making sure no one’s hurt.

He saw a young girl leaning against the counter, crying and shaking. She looked up at him. Their eyes met, with his eyes asking if she was ok? Then he heard the words. Are you ok? Can I help you?

She stood up. She was a slender five footish. Her long black hair trailed half way down her back. Her jeans and sweatshirt appeared a size or two larger than she needed. Despite her ruffled appearance, she had Mac’s full attention.

Two guys have been following me all night, she whispered. Mac immediately thought of the men in dark suits.

Just then they heard heavy footsteps coming from around the corner. The girl pulled Mac into one of the stalls. She knelt down in front of him, facing his back towards the door. She unzipped his pants, pulled them down to his knees and buried her head in his crouch.

Mac went into his ‘I’m easy mode’ not knowing what to expect.

The bathroom door swung open. One of the two black-op types looked in. He opened the door wider and said to the other. Check this out. You won’t see a girl doing a guy too often in gay San Francisco town.

The other guy peered in. Ok. The girl's doing the work. You can get your rocks off later. Neil’s not going to be happy with us if we lose the Samoan bitch.

The two men left and exited through the alley door. As soon as the bathroom door closed, the girl got up and looked Mac in the eyes. Please don’t tell anyone.

He wondered what he was going to tell anyone. Maybe this stunning Eurasian girl took one look at me and couldn’t help herself. He felt like saying, the pleasure was all mine, but instead repeated his opening words. Are you ok? Can I help you?

She whispered fa’afetai and scurried out the door.

While he was pulling up his pants, he noticed the chopstick that held her long, black hair in a bun was on the floor. He picked it up. After slipping it into his pocket he dashed out into the hall and looked both ways. He scanned every inch of the restaurant on the way back to the bar.

Of course, just like in the movies, the girl had simply vanished. He went over to Jimmy and asked him did you see a Eurasian girl with long black hair go through here?

Jimmy looked puzzled. Then he grinned. Six long legged Chinese types just finished dancing on the bar and left.

Mac shook his head side to side and smiled. Mac sat down only to get up again. I still have to go to the bathroom.

Jimmy gaze sharpened. Mac said. Hold that thought. I’ll have an unbelievable story for you when I get back.

Mac entered the men’s room and took the chopstick out of his pocket. The holding end read ‘King Ling’. He knew the place.

Chapter 2 Kitiona and Her Father

Several years before entering Original Joe's, Kitiona Tuafa had been a senior at Manu’s High School in American Samoa. There as a naturally, spirited leader she was elected senior class president.

Kitiona had tamed her rebellious nature by joining the high school debate team. She cherished debating. It controlled her defiant spirit fueled by the cultural challenges. Her generation respected their elders but wanted to find their own way in today's world. Debate helped her gain respect within the community council. And ultimately helped her see beyond her cultural restrictions.

As class president she was given more societal leeway to champion causes dear to her heart. She questioned and pushed her way to the edge of her Samoan cultural roots.

Her favorite cause questioned the ‘Taupou System’ of institutionalized virginity. It was highly regarded in American Samoa culture. Her stance was slightly to the left of Margaret Sanger’s. Her intentions were to begin public conversations challenging the system. In Kitiona’s opinion, the established tradition shouldn’t be blindly accepted by the people.

Kitiona’s father, Patea, was highly respected in the Samoan community. His ancestors ruled Samoa until the modern times. He still was regarded as royalty without any of the trappings. He had been a star rugby player as a youth. The connections to royalty along with his sports popularity positioned him as the most important community leader.

Kitiona worshiped her father. Being the first of two children, Kitiona was the apple of Patea’s eye. He had pampered her from the first day he laid eyes on her.

Patea held his first born to high standards. But Patea projected a kind of softness towards Kitiona that was not evident with her brother. Even her seasons of rebellion couldn’t dissuade his love.

Within their family structure, her brother looked up to Kitiona for guidance. He imitated her down to the swagger of her walk and her confident stare.

Their family was one of many that depended upon the Motorhead Brake Adhesive Factory for employment. Motorhead processed asbestos into the glue that holds brake lining materials together.

Patea was the supervisor in charge of production. Because of Kitiona’s insistence, Patea began questioning how the raw materials were being handled.

As a high school junior, Kitiona had researched the effects of asbestos on humans for an English project. She was horrified to read about Mesothelioma, just one of the effects of breathing asbestos. Her research included other disorders like lung cancer and asbestosis.

Kitiona insisted that her father read her paper. He read the paper. He didn’t seem as upset as she wanted him to be. She took him aside and read the paper to him. She underscored the possibly of getting one of these terrible asbestos disorders. Her final plea moved him. Daddy, I don’t want you to die before you see your grandkids.

After Kitiona’s appeal, he reread the research paper for a third time. That’s when Patea’s protective instincts kicked in and began working overtime. He envisioned the dusty factory floor tainted with asbestos. Immediately, he became concerned for his health and the health of all the other employees.

When Patea tried to reason with management about the potential asbestos problem in the factory, he was put on hold. Month after month the same working conditions persisted. He regularly talked with Tom Jenkins, Motorhead’s plant manager.

Jenkins knew of the asbestos threat before he took the job. He saw moving to American Samoa and taking the plant manager’s position as a corporate stepping stone. His angled to move up the ladder into an upper management position.

Each time Jenkins perused Patea’s concerns with Thomas Rider, manager of Amerastar’s Asian-Pacific division, he was instructed to hold down the fort. Rider discussed the matter with Chase Freeze, the vice-president of the Asian-Pacific division. And each time Freeze in turn consulted with Simon Wooster, Amerastar’s CEO.

Wooster stated that the Motorhead’s profits must be maintained at all costs. That ended all conversations between him and Freeze. Wooster’s reasons were a well kept secret between him and his wife, Senator Bonni Giardina.

Jenkins was instructed to tell Patea that the final decision is in the hands of upper management. They were investigating the matter.

Jenkins stalled for many months. Nothing changed at the factory. Dust laced with asbestos still hung in the air.

Patea finally organized worker meetings. A consensus began to develop that the workers should unionize. They rationalized that as a union, they could bargain for safe and healthy ways to handle the raw materials used in making the brake lining glue. The material they worried most about was asbestos.

As a union structure began to take shape, Jenkins updated Rider at Amerastar corporate headquarters in San Francisco. Jenkins was instructed to discourage the workers from forming a union. He was told that if the workers unionize, several high paying management positions will be cut to insure the company’s profitability. Rider told Jenkins, his position would be the first to go. Rider affirmed that this mandate came straight from the top.

Chapter 3 Mile High Revelations

Senator Bonni Giardina felt exhilarated and empowered at the same time. Eric exploded inside her with the pounding of a experienced stud. She collapsed on him, her breast implants nailing him to the plane's cushions.

The Senator rolled off and lay next to him on the makeshift bed. After catching her breath she said, light me a cigarette.

Over the humming of the plane's engines, Eric leaned over, his wet tool rubbing on her side. He lit the cigarette and gave it to her. She took a long pull. Then she scrapped some of his wetness off her side and licked it off her fingers. Eric, I can taste you're going to have some good looking kids someday.

Eric smiled. He became callous to the Senator's grossness shortly after becoming her executive assistant.

Get dressed and pour me a drink. She stood up and walked, flaunting her naked bottom, to the washroom. Cigarette smoke trailed her as the washroom door slammed shut.

Eric walked over to the wet bar. He soaked a towel in warm water and cleaned himself off. Symbolically, he scrubbed, old-lady Senator from his privates.

Eric Balwin became Senator Bonni Giardina’s executive assistant immediately after graduating from the Harvard School of International Studies. His calm, organized manner caught the Senator’s attention during the first minute of their interview. His handsome, six foot muscular frame and long fingers were difficult for Giardina to ignore. Bonni mused to herself throughout Eric's entire interview what he would feel like inside her.

Eric attached his career aspirations to Senator Giardina. He envied her political savvy. She portrayed the politicians’ politician. Giardina had the experienced gall to lie straight-faced to anyone. She could tell voters the sky was yellow with purple spots and make them believe it.

Eric would do anything to endear himself to Giardina. He saw his future in politics in her eyes. He decided that he wasn’t going to disappoint her at any level of service.

When he discovered that he was to be her sex toy, he balked at first. She was 38 years older than him. She had several face lifts, breast enchantments and regular Restylane treatments. Still he figured the positives for his career would out-weight the negatives. He reconciled himself to do anything he physically could to hold on to this job and enhance his resume.

Senator Bonni Giardina knew Eric would lick her dry of all his and her love making if she encouraged him. But there was no time for after-play. She used the political savvy Eric adored to move him from stud back to executive assistant. The plane was landing shortly and she needed to put in an appearance at the board meeting.

She walked back into the cabin and gently scratched his back. He deserved it for a job well done. Eric let out a soft breath of air. Eric, you need to prep me for the board meeting.

Eric feeling quite relaxed, handed her a scotch and water. I thought that’s what I was doing for the last 300 miles.

They both rolled their eyes and laugh.

The board meeting. Now! The Senator said lighting a cigarette.

Eric acquiesced. Here’s tonight’s agenda and minutes from the last three meetings.

Chapter 4 The Grooming

Eric had no idea that Giardina began politicking at the age of nine. But this was the political savvy that endeared him to her.

On many occasions as a child, Bonni had heard her father say, You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. Somewhere around her ninth birthday, she asked her dad, Mark Paul Giardina, state representative for Vermont’s 5th district, what that phrase meant.

Representative Giardina carried a stately persona around his district and nationally. His every political move was calculated to produce the most benefits for him and his family. Stripped to the bone, Mark P. Giardina, was a godfather type posing as an elected official.

Little Bonni heard her dad’s ‘scratching’ statement more times than she could remember. One day Bonni commented to her dad. Dad, I haven’t seen you scratching anyone’s back. Why do you say that?

Her dad smiled and started thinking like a father whose little girl needed help with her homework. He had always been proud of her inquisitive mind. He tried to feed it with knowledge that would excite her whenever he could. These were memorable moments for him and he jumped all over this one.

Bonni, he started, do you ever have an itch on your back that you can’t reach? She looked at him and considered his question. She had observed him politicking for several years. She knew her answer had to be clever. Then she tilted her head slightly to the right just like she had seen him do many times and answered. Sure, but isn’t that what backscratchers are for. And she ran out of the room.

Mark watched her leave. That moment of pride was replaced with thoughts of organizing the paperwork on his desk. Suddenly, Bonni bounced back into his office with what looked like a wooden stick. It had a dull claw-like carving on one end and a tapered handle with a hole in it on the other.

Bonni beamed up at her father and showed him her mom’s backscratcher. When mom has an itch she uses this.

Her dad smiled. Have you ever used it?

Sure, she replied proudly.

This wasn’t the first time Mark Giardina had to improvise. He hadn’t considered Bonni using the back scratcher as a prop. His memorable moment suddenly clouded over. In a political second, he recovered. If mom didn’t have this backscratcher, what would she do?

Bonni immediately knew the answer. But she positioned herself to add a bit of flare to her answer. She walked over to the window, pushed back the curtain and pointed out. As she stared, she said. Mom would send Charles to that store across the street to buy one for her.

Her dad chuckled. Of course she would. If the stores were closed, then what would she do?

Bonni pursed her lips pretending to think. Finally, she said, Mom would ask me or you or maybe Charles to scratch her back.

Very good! Now if mom asked you to scratch her back and you did, would you expect her to scratch your back when you had an itch and asked her?

She looked him in the eyes experiencing a moment of clarity. With her brightest, biggest smile, she nodded slowly. Yes.

At that moment in time at the tender age of nine, another politician was born. Her dad recognized it and so did she. The Giardina political tradition had just been extended another generation.

Chapter 5 Chop Sticks

Up for Chinese tonight? Mac asked Jimmy.

Sure but we’ll have to get back before our study session. I asked Carol and Juan over to review cases with us for tomorrow’s test.

What time are they coming over?

About eight.

Ok, let’s go now and we’ll be back in plenty of time. Mac sprung to his feet. They left their apartment and began walking.

Anxious anticipation powered Mac’s stride. Slow down, big fellow. The only thing we have waiting for us when we get back are two nerds and cases up the wazoo.

Let’s go to King Lings. Mac pointed with his head towards the Chinese restaurant and didn’t slow down.

Jimmy reflected on Mac’s story from the other night and understood Mac’s rush. Wild as the fake BJ story was, Jimmy understood Mac’s itch to find his Eurasian damsel in distress. For fun he started to out-stride him. He joked as he passed him. First one there gets the Eurasian dream girl!

Mac knew this was a wild goose chase, but fantasies were his only outlet at this time in his life. Law school monopolized every waking minute. It compromised his eating and sleeping habits until he started rooming with Jimmy. Jimmy’s carefree spirit complimented his serious nature. Leaving the apartment for dinner and chasing some fantasy girl tonight was his way of taking a break. Jimmy was among for the adventure.

Mac decided to change the subject. Did you hear some Democrat Senator called the Republicans, an E. coli club.

That's nothing new, Jimmy claimed. I remember Frank Colacurcio and his buddies sitting outside his deli and talking politics. They voted for Democrats because they could be bribed with less money than the Republicans.

I don't know anything about that, Mac responded. But I do know that they have been accusing Republicans of starving babies for years.

Funny isn't it. Democrats support Obamacare's death panels for the elderly and publically funded abortions. Who really is the E coli club?

Mac opened the door to King Lings Restaurant. Jimmy walked pass the register counter with its ‘seat yourself’ sign. They found a table half way down the aisle against the wall.

The waitress dropped off two glasses of water and a couple of plastic covered, sticky menus. As she walked away, Mac noticed a chopstick in her hair. Jimmy took note of Mac focusing on the waitress’s hair and said. That’s what long-haired Asian girls do. They roll it up into a bun and push a chopstick through.

Mac memorized that little tidbit of information. Then he started imaging the chopstick in his mystery girl's hair. He took this thought one step further. He removed the chopstick from her hair and watched it unroll down most of her back. He sighed and looked down at the menu.

Throughout the meal, he made mental notes of the restaurant. From the wooden chopsticks to the plastic plates to the paper napkins, nothing seemed to connect to his Eurasian mystery girl. Even the servers were more Chinese looking than Eurasian. He observed that the Chinese have more rounded faces than other Asian cultures.

After gobbling down the orange chicken, house noodles and fried rice, they sat back. Mac took in a lungful of air. He acted disappointed. Let’s get out of here.

Jimmy smiled. Don’t take it too hard. You really didn’t expect to see your mystery girl here, did you? Mac just gave him a half-grin.

On their way out Mac stopped at the counter by the entrance. He looked for a toothpick. He froze while looking into the display case window. Right behind the takeout fortune cookies was a box of chopsticks. They were tan colored and plastic with King Ling written in red on the handle.

Jimmy noticed what Mac had seen. Just because you see her chopstick, doesn’t mean she was here. She may have picked it up on the street or in a second hand store down on Market.

They left the restaurant. Jimmy kept chattering about the odds of ever seeing Mac's mystery girl again. No matter what Jimmy said, Mac held out hope.

Chapter 6 Study Session

Mac and Jimmy's second floor flat overlooked the two and half acre Father Alfred E. Boeddeker Park in the Tenderloin district. Father Boeddeker was a Franciscan priest who served the poor and hungry in the neighborhood years before. He established the nearby St. Anthony Dining room where Mac occasionally volunteered to serve dinners.

When Mac and Jimmy opened the door to their flat, Carol and Juan were sitting on the couch studying. Carol knew the outside key was hidden on top of the door molding. They let themselves into the apartment and the fridge. There were several empty beer bottles on the end table next to the couch.

Why do you get bottled beer? Juan quizzed Mac.

I was expecting your first question to be about Gross vs. the Medina Corporation. Mac answered.

It's something about tasting the cans. Jimmy offered. Actually, I'm becoming a believer.

Carol and Juan went back to their reading. They apparently wanted to finish something important.

Juan Oneca was a handsome, proud Puerto Rican. The dark complexion on his five foot ten inch tall frame made him stand out in crowds. His looks aside, Juan embraced the intelligential route as a youngster. Most of the kids in his neighborhood perused sports or drugs or both. Juan chose books. He learned early in his education that being number one in his class opened the scholarship money doors. Even so, he would owe nearly four hundred thousand dollars to various lending institutions after graduating from law school.

Juan competed for the top spot in his class throughout his schooling. Law school was no different. He felt like he had to study 24/7. Even in these study sessions, he would reread everything while the others took breaks. In general, he acted as if he was commanding his mind to memorize everything.

Life’s reality for Juan rested with the desire to help his family. His mother and six brothers lived in poverty in Puerto Rico. He was their hope for a better life. He regularly sent them whatever money he could spare.

Carol Finley was a perpetual motion, self-starter that keeps life in perspective. Orphaned at eight years old, she begged, borrowed or stole most of what she could to get through elementary school.

During her teens, Carol, grew into her big-boned frame to end up five foot, nine inches tall. That's when she met Father White, a priest at Saint Rita's Catholic Church.

Father White recognized her talent for learning. He found a donor who scholarshipped her education through St. Mary's Catholic High School.

She financed her college and law school education through federal and private student loans. Upon graduation from law school, she will have accumulated close to a half a million dollars in debt.

She respected Juan’s relentless chase for academic excellence. Juan respected Carol’s tough-minded spirit. Together they made a good sounding board for studying with Mac and Jimmy.

Carol looked in Juan’s direction. What's the relevance of Brown vs. the Board of Education?

Jimmy and Mac took seats opposite Juan and Carol. They looked at each other and smiled. Jimmy popped off, We’ve arrived just in time to save you guys.

Earlier at dinner, they had just discussed this and related cases over Chinese noodles. Jimmy did a little drum roll motion with his hands and pointed squarely at Mac as if a spotlight suddenly shined on him.

Mac accommodated the request. The 1954 Brown vs. the Board of Education was a landmark case affecting public education. It declared that any state laws establishing separate public schools for black and white students are unconstitutional.

Jimmy continued. The Brown decision overturned the separate but equal doctrine established in 1896 by the Plessy vs. Ferguson decision.

Thank you, boys. Are they right, Juan? Carol asked.

Juan sitting at the other end of the couch appeared as comfortable as a bird resting on the ground in the shade. He looked up giving Mac and Jimmy the good-job gaze. They’re right on.

Jimmy beamed with confidence. Are you guys ready for a game of Place that Case? A by-product of their eating out together, ‘Place that Case’ was a game they made up as a study group. At times they became so vocal, those dining around them at King Ling or Chucks would join in the fun even though they were clueless about the facts.

‘Place the Case’ game involves relating the place they were at in the present time with cases that may have affected this specific place. There were no legal boundaries. Any logical connection was considered permissible.

Mac remembered several cases he stumped Jimmy with at dinner tonight. Being in a sort of Eurasian fantasyland stirred his interest in anything Asian including case law. The night before, he had glanced over several cases involving Asians in the United States. He was ready to spring some of them on Juan and Carol.

Mac smiled at them with a ‘gotcha look’. Lum v. Rice he said. Jimmy recalled their dinner conversation and added, Think Asian!

Juan blinked his eyes. Da. How can you not think Asian with a Chinese name like Lum and the word, rice.

Carol responded before Juan finished his thought. She was impulsive and born conversation-ready. Lum attempted to have the Japanese classified as a white race.

Same time period but that’s the wrong case. You’re thinking of a 1922 case, Takao Ozawa v. United States.

Juan entered the conversation. Lum v. Rice is a 1927 Supreme Court case. This decision supported segregation. The case held that a Chinese child could be excluded from whites in public schools. That’s Mississippi for you. They had enough blacks to build separate schools but not enough Chinese. The final disposition required all non-whites, including Chinese, had to go to the black schools.

Juan felt momentarily pleased with himself. And before looking at the book again, he said, Plyler v. Doe.

Carol’s back straightened. That’s another education case.

Before she could finish, Jimmy exclaimed. That was a 1982 landmark Supreme Court decision. In Plyler v. Doe, the Court ruled that children of illegal aliens have the constitutional right to a free and appropriate public education.

That’s exactly what I was going to say, Carol said glaring at Jimmy.

Mac cut in, "Plyler v.