A handful of heroes:
In the case against Roy Moore,
a state stands tall

By Bruce A. Lowry, Commentary Editor

11-16-2003

Members of the Court of the Judiciary are addressed by attorneys for the state and for Roy Moore Wednesday in Montgomery.

MONTGOMERY-- The eyes of a nation looked down once more on Alabama in recent days, expecting, perhaps, to see another chapter written in a long and tortured legal history.

Burned in those eyes were images of angry George Wallace, cock of the walk in his defiant political prime. And State Troopers armed and at the ready as the defenseless walked toward them on the Edmund Pettus Bridge. Or Bull Connors' dogs.

Only this time, instead of demagoguery, contrariness, and further disdain for the U.S. Constitution, what those looking down saw was a handful of heroes.

One was a much-maligned yet courageous attorney general fighting for the laws of this land, fighting for principles that form the best core of our national experience. Another was a little-known appellate court judge, a man who never sought this limelight, who may well feel political retribution down the road, doing only what was asked of him, carrying forward his charge with grim determination. And two were civilians, not judges at all, but so vital to the work of this legal process.

Yes, looking around the gallery Wednesday where the state Supreme Court conducts its business, amid all the drama and tension brought by the judicial ethics trial of Chief Justice Roy Moore, I found myself proud to be witness to it, proud to see our system of laws working - proud to be an Alabamian.

Of course not everyone saw it that way.

There was the man who stood behind me in the line to the restroom at one of the breaks. On one lapel he wore a POW-MIA pen, on the other side a small replica of the Ten Commandments. "I'll tell you what we need here," he said to another man. "What we need is to have revival inside that court room."

A small chorus of "Amens" swept through the line.

It struck me then that the proceedings inside, among Moore followers at least, were being looked on as another ex-tension of our long-running debate over separation of church and state. Among the viewers in the gallery were nine students from a Christian school in Elmore County. Their teacher was quite sure of herself, adamant about what was going on in the courtroom, confident of the issue at hand.

"No matter how you feel about the commandments," she told me, "well, at least among the people I talk to anyway, what you have here is judicial activism out of control. That's what this is all about."

I did not argue, partly because the proceedings were about to begin. Then the more I watched and the more I listened, the more convinced I became that she was wrong, that as Attorney General Bill Pryor put it, "the stakes are high," that we need to decide whether we in this state will be governed by laws or by whims of men, even men as charismatic as Roy Moore.

By the time Chief Justice Moore got to this point, to this

constitutionally-mandated trial that would decide his fate on the issue of violating the canons of judicial ethics, U.S. District Court Judge Myron Thompson and the much talked about 21/2-ton Commandments monument were mere ciphers.

The issue was larger than either man or stone. The issue was about our history, about our constitution, about the very legal fibers that hold this nation together.

"Everyone who lives in our state must understand that no citizen, rich or poor, powerful or weak, is above the law," said Pryor in his closing.

Chief Justice Roy Moore never saw it that way, and probably never will. His cocksure defiance, so reminiscent of Wallace and so emblematic of the worst images those outside conjure of this state, was on full display from the weeks leading up to this trial to his unsavory behavior during it. At one point he snapped back at Court of the Judiciary member Scott Vowell's reasonable question as to what the chief justice might do with the Commandments monument were he to be returned to office.

"I don't know what I would do," said Moore, "but I wouldn't leave it in a closet, I can assure you of that."

His legal team went to great lengths to paint a picture of a young person who had experienced an impoverished childhood, who had gone to Vietnam when duty called, and who had grown into a God-fearing man with some knowledge of American history. They hoped, through all this, they might somehow spare him the humiliation of losing his job.

What they never grasped was the larger issue of judicial ethics, or the six serious charges brought against Moore. Chief among them were that he had failed to respect and comply with the law, and that he had failed to uphold the integrity and independence of the judiciary.

Assistant Attorney General John Gibbs, Pryor's able, soft-spoken lieutenant, got to the heart of the matter in an elo-quent and thoughtful closing statement. His point was that Moore's defiance was not just a reflection on himself and the Supreme Court, but an affront to the state's entire legal establishment, and to the Alabama justice system as a whole.

"(Justice Moore's) actions do not occur in a vacuum," argued Gibbs. "They have an effect on the public. His very public refusal to comply with the law undercuts the entire workings of the judicial system . If you have a chief justice who says, essentially, that it is optional whether to obey a court order, what sort of message does that send to other people who depend on those very courts for relief?"

What might have begun as another round in the battle over the separation of church and state evolved into a real and serious discussion about matters of law, about its foundation and its origins, and about whether it is still important and worth holding on to, or whether it is to be cast to the wind along with the rhetoric of a demagogue.

Thankfully, this time, the rule of law prevailed. There were a handful of heroes who rose up to make sure of it. In voting, unanimously, to have Roy Moore removed, presiding judge Bill Thompson and the state Court of the Judiciary said law was still relevant, that it's still vital to our daily lives.

America is not used to looking up at Alabama as a defender of the law. But today it can, today Alabama shines because Bill Pryor and his staff made their case, and because nine individuals stayed the course of justice. Their actions have made this state a better, more lawful place. Their courage is the stuff of history, and it should not soon be forgotten.

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Bruce Lowry Email: blowry@annistonstar.com