Cooper produced them.
"Look, Charles's division was mustered there. Wonder if that's the connection. Anything else about the graveyard?"
Cooper read. "No. There were only two or three hits."
Rhyme scanned the white board. "What the hell was Charles up to? Gallows Heights, Potters' Field, Frederick Douglass, civil rights leaders, congressmen, politicians, the Fourteenth Amendment . . . What ties them all together?" After a lengthy silence the criminalist said, "Let's call in an expert."
"Who's more expert that you, Lincoln?"
"I don't mean forensic science, Mel," Rhyme said. "I'm speaking of history. There are a few subjects I'm not proficient in."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Professor Richard Taub Mathers was lean and tall, with skin dark as mahogany, sharp eyes and an intellect that suggested several post-graduate degrees were tucked into his resume. He sported a throwback short Afro hairstyle and a self-effacing manner. He was dressed, well, professorially: tweed jacket and bow tie (missing only the de rigueur suede elbow patches).
He nodded to Rhyme, with a brief double-take at the wheelchair, and shook hands with the rest of those present.
Rhyme occasionally lectured at local colleges on forensic science, mostly at John Jay and Fordham; he rarely appeared at such lofty venues as Columbia, but a professor he knew at George Washington down in D.C. had put him in touch with Mathers, who was, it seemed, an institution unto himself in Morningside Heights. He was a professor in the law school--teaching criminal, constitutional and civil rights law as well as various esoteric graduate courses--and lectured in African-American studies in the undergrad program.
Mathers listened attentively as Rhyme related what they knew about Charles Singleton and the civil rights movement, his secret, how it was possible that he'd been framed for robbery. Then he told the professor what had happened to Geneva over the past two days.
The professor blinked in shock at this news. "Tried to kill you?" he whispered.
Geneva said nothing. Holding his eye, she gave a faint nod.
Rhyme said to Sachs, "Show him what we have so far. The letters."
Mathers unbuttoned his jacket and pulled on thin, stylish glasses. He read Charles Singleton's correspondence care
fully, unhurried. He nodded once or twice, gave one faint smile. When he was finished he looked over them again. "Fascinating man. A freedman, farmer, served in the Thirty-first U.S. Colored Troops--and was at Appomattox."
He read the letters yet again as Rhyme stifled the urge to tell him to hurry. Finally the man removed his glasses, polished the lenses carefully with a tissue and mused, "So he was involved in the enactment of the Fourteenth Amendment?" The professor gave another smile. He was clearly intrigued. "Well, this could be interesting. This could be something."
Struggling to remain patient, Rhyme asked, "Yes, and what would that be exactly? The 'interesting something'?"
"I'm speaking of the controversy, of course."
Had he been able to, Rhyme might've grabbed the man's lapels and shouted for him to speed up. But he offered a casual frown. "And what's the controversy?"
"A bit of history?" he asked.
Rhyme sighed. Sachs gave him a dark look and the criminalist said, "Go right ahead."
"The United States Constitution's the document that set up the American government--the presidency, Congress and the Supreme Court. It still controls how we operate and supersedes every other law and regulation in the land.
"Now, in this country we've always wanted a balance: a government strong enough to protect us from foreign powers and to regulate our lives, but not so strong it becomes oppressive. When the nation's founders read over the Constitution after it was signed they were worried that it was too powerful--that it could lead to a repressive central government. So they revised it--they passed ten amendments, the Bill of Rights. The first eight are really the crucial ones. They list basic rights that protect citizens against abuse from the federal government. For instance: the FBI can't arrest you without probable cause. Congress can't take your house away from you to build an interstate highway without compensation. You get a fair trial with an impartial jury. You can't be subject to cruel and unusual punishments, and so on. But, did you note the key word?"
Rhyme thought he was actually testing them. But Mathers continued before anyone could speak. "Federal. We're ruled by two different governments in America: the federal government in Washington and the government of the state we live in. The Bill of Rights only limits what the federal government can do to us: Congress and federal agencies, like the FBI or the DEA. The Bill of Rights gives us virtually no protection against human and civil rights violations by state governments. And state laws are the ones that affect our lives much more directly than the federal government--most criminal police matters, public works, real estate, cars, domestic relations, wills, civil lawsuits are all state issues.
"Got that so far? The Constitution and Bill of Rights protect us from Washington only, not from abuse by New York or Oklahoma."
Rhyme nodded.
The man eased his lanky frame onto a lab stool, glancing uncertainly at a petri dish containing green mold, and continued, "Let's go back to the eighteen sixties. The pro-slavery South lost the Civil War so we enact the Thirteenth Amendment, which prohibits slavery. The country was reunified, involuntary servitude was outlawed . . . freedom and harmony would reign. Right?"
A cynical laugh. "Wrong. Banning slavery wasn't enough. There was even more bad feeling toward blacks than before the war--even in the North--because so many young men had died on behalf of freeing them. State legislatures enacted hundreds of laws discriminating against blacks. They were barred from voting, from holding office, owning property, using public facilities, testifying in court . . . . Life for most of them was nearly as bad as under slavery.
"But these were state laws, remember; the Bill of Rights couldn't stop them. So Congress decided the citizens needed protection from the state governments. They proposed the Fourteenth Amendment to remedy that." Mathers glanced at a computer. "You mind if I go on-line?"