“Brian Roderick. Joseph Ross. Terry Halleck. Alan Phelps.”
Gains speaks the names with funereal solemnity.
“American heroes. Killed by cowards in the night. Patriots fighting for all that we hold dear in America.”
Is his microphone too low? Gains glances at Beyers, his chief of staff, seated in the row of aides behind him against the wall, and mouths the words “mike volume.”
The sound acoustics are complex: he has to be heard in the room, and Dirksen G50 is a large space. But the sound has to work for television, too, through the mult box, given that all the cable news channels are carrying them live.
Beyers nods, and Gains continues: “Our responsibility on this special joint committee is simple. It is to honor these four American heroes by learning everything we can about how they died.”
He’s worked on the opening statement hard, trying to tell a story, one that would sway a jury back in Pensacola.
“What do we owe these men and their families? We owe them justice, justice that their killers are punished. We owe them the truth. The truth about what happened to them. The truth about how our government and the Nash administration are conducting the war on Islamist extremism. The truth about what our intelligence agencies knew and didn’t know.”
Watching in his office at the Pentagon, Secretary of Defense Daniel Shane cringes. He has worried about Curtis Gains chairing this committee from the outset. By reputation, the Florida congressman is a serious person. But the man lacks experience, and no doubt is getting more advice than is good for him. Gains had been a prosecutor in Florida, Shane knew, and this was a prosecutor’s opening statement, but it was inappropriate at the opening of such a controversial congressional investigation. Were he still in the Senate, this rhetoric might have rolled off Shane’s back. But he isn’t in the Senate anymore. He is secretary of defense, responsible for the hundreds of thousands of people in uniform, and the thousands more who support them.
The more he hears, the more Shane bristles. In what universe, he thinks, should Congress air in public hearings what U.S. intelligence knows about America’s enemies? With these grandstanding opening remarks, Gains is all but advocating treasonous acts without even knowing it.
Shane picks up the phone and calls Owen Webster at the CIA. Gains’s rhetoric, he imagines, is probably making the spymaster’s skin crawl. And he and Webster could use a little bonding.
“You watching this?”
“Do I have to?” says Webster.
“Yeah, Owen, you do.”
“Well, I am.”
“We owe these fallen heroes the truth about whether we provided all the protection they required,” Gains is saying.
The chairman’s list of “truths” is now at about twelve.
“We owe it to these fallen men to know whether our government has told the truth to the American people about their sacrifice.”
In the public seating area, about halfway back, Randi Brooks is also surprised by Gains but less disheartened. She had worked on many congressional investigations in her career. That’s where she and Rena met. And she knows melodrama doesn’t suit the chair of a major committee. It is better left to others, to pit bulls on your side, so the chair can maintain distance and some decorum across the aisle. Like Shane, she wonders if Gains is in over his head. One way you can usually tell is when the person chairing a committee is not fully in control: they talk too much.
But a poor hearing works to their advantage. Perhaps, just maybe, the Oosay Committee will be less of a threat than she and Rena fear. They should be so lucky. They were less than five minutes in. It was way too early to even wish such a thing.
Gains finishes, and the ranking Democrat, Senator Fred Blaylish of Vermont, leans into his microphone. He pauses a moment, an old trick, to get the room’s attention. Then Blaylish lets everyone know he is royally pissed.
“The chairman claims we’re charged with pursuing this investigation ‘on a bipartisan basis to get at the truth,’ but I fear the facts suggest something else. I am disappointed to have to report that the majority has concealed witnesses from the minority, withheld documents in violation of Senate and House rules, and withheld details of its plans. It’s hard to see how you get at the truth, or honor anyone, when you play fast and loose with the facts from the start.”
He goes on for several more minutes, mostly outlining how he hopes the committee will run and what questions it needs to answer. But the message is unmistakable. Beyond even the most cynical expectations, the Oosay Committee after only a few minutes has become a partisan mess.
Dick Bakke is up next. Since the committee is newly formed, with no length of tenure on the panel, they’ve drawn lots on each side to determine the order of questioning. Bakke stares at Blaylish.
“Mr. Chairman, in response to the ranking Democrat, I feel we need to remind our friends across the aisle why we are here. I fear, Mr. Chairman, that the Nash administration is not only incompetent—which may be inferred prima facie from the death of General Roderick and his men. I am also here to find out if the Nash administration has lied about what happened and is now engaged in a cover-up to hide those lies. If that requires holding back some information from the Democrats, who in turn will leak it to the White House, so be it.”
Senator David Traynor of Colorado suddenly twists in his chair to look at Bakke. The sound and the sudden motion, in turn, catch the attention of the network cameras. Several push in for a close-up on Traynor’s expression, which is one of unmistakable disgust. In TV parlance, it is a terrific reaction shot.
Sitting in his studio across town, BNS anchorman Jack Anthem exclaims to his producer, “You see that? Make sure to mark that.”
In the press section, a number of reporters begin to frame the day’s story in their minds—Traynor versus Bakke, two men considering running for the presidency. Some older hands among them wonder if Traynor’s reaction was spontaneous or calculated, and they are eager to hear what Traynor will say in his own statement.
They aren’t disappointed. “Less than twenty minutes, Mr. Chairman!” Traynor snaps when it’s his turn to speak. He pauses, waiting for every other member of the committee to turn his way. “That’s all it took. Before these proceedings, the work of the U.S. Congress, went full DC Comics.”
He pauses dramatically.
“You got senators here accusing the administration of murder. Others accusing the committee of being a fraud. And we haven’t heard from our first witness yet.”
Traynor shakes his head. “I may be new to Congress, but good Lord. I wonder what American citizens looking for us to help solve the country’s problems think of us now?”
A pause. “What do we think of ourselves? We say we want to honor the dead. Let’s do ourselves a little honor.”
“Are we rolling on this?” Jack Anthem yells to his producer. The anchor is on set now, waiting to do a live shot during an expected break in the hearings. “Because I sure as hell want to play that tonight.”
THE NEXT STATEMENT IS FROM SENATOR WENDY UPTON, the Republican from Arizona whom Stroud had begged to join the committee. Given that reporters already have begun to frame their stories, a number of them are not paying close attention.
“Mr. Chairman, I’ll be brief. We are public servants. Our job on this committee is to learn what we can from this incident so that we can limit the chances of similar tragedies occurring in the future. The more we focus on politics, the less likely we are to do what citizens require of us. We honor the dead by doing our job. Not scoring political points, either by denouncing this committee or by abusing its power.”
That was it. She yields the rest of her time and pushes the microphone away from her face, with just a hint of disgust.
One person who does not miss Upton’s statement is Dick Bakke, three seats away. He is still smarting from what he considers the obnoxious antics of David Traynor. But he is surprised that it is Upton’s remarks he will remember. They were impressive, even lofty, if as Upton suggested one were to remove politics from the equation. But, then again, what is the point of removing politics from the equation?
THE HEARING WILL GO ON SIX HOURS MORE. There will be testimony from the FBI forensics team about the explosion at the gates. Secretary of State Arthur Manion will testify about fortifications at the complex and the diplomatic situation in Morat. Diane Howell will carefully refuse to admit she did anything wrong, frustrating Republicans and delighting Democrats. But the story of the day is already written.
From his network TV office on Nineteenth and M Streets, Matt Alabama has decided to watch the hearings on his computer on Y’all Post Live, the way many Americans will watch it now. He sees emoji sweep by on his screen, the little hearts and evil faces as people worldwide register their instantaneous feelings about every word uttered by each senator, House member, and witness.
The universe, Alabama thinks, has become a Rorschach test.
PETER RENA DIDN’T USUALLY WATCH TELEVISION. While a lot of political Washington fixated on the story of the day, Rena finds it can often pull you off course. History suggests the news media’s narratives are often ephemeral, a kind of misdirection driven by groping for public attention. Though it can be hard to do, he tries to look for deeper patterns and counsels his clients not to be distracted by what won’t matter.
But today he had the hearings on in his office in the background, and he is nagged by clinging unease about national decline. The Oosay hearings were cartoonish and unprofessional, demeaning to the institutions of government and the public they are supposed to serve. He knows those institutions have operated in shame and chaos before and survived. They are designed to reflect popular passion, and it is a mistake to read too much into one event. But if you look hard and closely enough, history also teaches that no institutions made by humans last forever. And when change happens, it is rarely clear in the moment—only recognizable years later. Still, it is hard to watch the institutions of government function so poorly and not worry.