Lisa Scottoline Presents Final Appeal - Spotlight on Court System--and--Corruption Recommended as a Must-Read!

 Someone’s life is at stake, Armen had said. Get involved. I put the note back in my pocket and slip my car key in the door. There’s going to be an investigation, but it’ll have to be my own. Because I’m involved, starting now.

 Sarah wants to represent the downtrodden, not mingle with them.

“When we talk about justice,” Ben says, “we shirk thinking in legal terms.” “I’m impressed, Ben. Did you make that up all by yourself?” “No. Oliver Wendell Holmes said it.”

“Didn’t you know, Grace? Ben is waiting for a phone call from Justice Scalia. He’s this close to a Supreme Court clerkship.” Artie squints at his forefinger and thumb, held a half-inch apart. “Maybe even this close, am I right, Ben? This close?” He makes his fingers touch.

Empty coffee cups dot the surface of Armen’s conference table, along with sheaves of curly faxes, photocopied cases, and trial transcripts from the Hightower record. We worked straight through dinner and into the night, reading cases and talking through the opinion. Then Armen began to tap out an outline on his laptop and I picked up the habeas petition to check our facts. It says that Thomas Hightower was seventeen when he cut school to go drinking with a fast crowd, which got him drunk and dared him to kiss the prettiest girl in school. Hightower went to her farm, where he found Sherri Gilpin in the shed. He asked her out, and she laughed at him.,, Allegedly. In a drunken rage, Hightower slapped her and she fell off balance, cracking her skull against a tractor. He tried to give her CPR, at which point her little sister Sally came in and began to cry. Hightower says he panicked. He couldn’t leave witnesses; it would have killed his mother. So he throttled the child, then, full of shame, he got back into his car and drove himself into a tree. 

Enter the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, which saved his life, reserving for itself the honor of putting him on trial. For death. Hightower couldn’t afford a lawyer, not that one in the small coal-mining town would represent him anyway. The county judge appointed a kid barely out of night law school to the case, and the jury convicted Hightower of capital murder. During the sentencing hearing, where the jury decides life or death, Hightower’s lawyer argued from the wrong death penalty statute, one that had been ruled unconstitutional three years earlier by the Pennsylvania Supreme Court. Somehow he had missed that. The obsolete death statute, the only one presented to this predominantly white jury, said nothing about the fact that a jury could consider Hightower’s youth, his diminished capacity because of alcohol, his lack of a prior criminal record, and the remorse that he demonstrated by his suicide attempt as “mitigating circumstances” in deciding whether to impose the death penalty. The jury took only fifteen minutes to reach its decision. Death. I set the papers down and look out the huge windows that make up the fourth wall of the office. It’s the dead of night. Orangey streetlamps stretch toward the Delaware River in ribbons. White lights dot the suspension cables on the Ben Franklin Bridge. Traffic signals blink on and off: red, yellow, green. The lights remind me of jewels, twinkling in the black night. I watch them shimmer outside the window and turn the legal issues over in my mind. The question is whether Hightower’s lawyer was so ineffective that the trial was unfair. Strictly as a legal matter, Hightower probably deserves a new trial; what he deserves as a matter of justice is another matter. This is why I practiced commercial litigation. It has nothing to do with life or death; the questions are black and white, and the right answer is always green. “Well,” Armen says to himself. “Well, well, well.” He stops typing and reads the last page of his draft. The office is quiet now that Bernice has stopped snoring. I feel like we’re the only people awake, high in the night sky over the twinkly city. “Well what?” 

“I think we’re going to save this kid’s life. What do you think?” The question takes me aback. “I don’t know. I don’t think of it that way.” “I do.” He smiles wearily, wrinkling the crows’ feet that make him look older than he is. “I wouldn’t stop if I didn’t think so.” “Was that your goal?” “It had to be. His lawyer was incompetent. Anybody else would have gotten him life in prison, instead he’s scheduled to die. They set him up.” He leans back in the chair. Fatigue has stripped something from him: his defenses, maybe, or the professional distance between us. He seems open to me in a way he hasn’t before. “I didn’t think of it as saving his life. I thought of it as a legal issue.” “I know that, Grace. That’s why I wanted you on this case. You narrowed your focus to the legalities, divorced yourself from the morality of the thing.” It stings. “Do you fault me? It’s a legal question, not a moral one.” “Really? Who said?” “Holmes.” “Fxxx Holmes,” he says, stretching luxuriously in a blue oxford shirt. His shirtsleeves are bunched at his elbows; his tie is loose. He’s so close I can pick up a trace of his aftershave. 

“It’s both those things, Grace, law and morality. You can’t separate law from justice. You shouldn’t want to.” “But then it’s your view of justice, and that varies from judge to judge.” “I can live with that, it’s in my job description. Judges are supposed to judge. When I read the Eighth Amendment, I think the framers were telling us that government should not torture and kill. That’s the ultimate evil, isn’t it, and it’s impossible to check.” His face darkens. “I don’t understand,” I say, but I do in part. Armen’s culture is written all over his olive-skinned features, as well as his chambers: the framed documents in a squiggly alphabet on the walls, the picture of Mount Ararat over his desk chair, the oddly ornate lamp bases and brocaded pillows. 

“It started piecemeal with the Armenians,” he says, leaning forward. “Our right to speak our own language was taken away. Then our right to worship as Christians. By 1915, they had taken our lives. We were starved, hanged, tortured. Beaten to death, most of us, with that.” He points at a rough-hewn wooden cudgel mounted over the bookshelf. “I didn’t know.” “Not many do. Half my people were killed. Half a million of us, wiped out by the Turkish government. All my family, except for my mother.” A flicker of pain furrows his brow. “I’m sorry.” He shakes it off. “The point is, government cannot kill its own citizens, not with my help. 

I know Hightower did a terrible thing. He killed, but I won’t kill him to prove it’s wrong. He should be locked up forever so he never hurts another child. He will be, if I have any say in it.” He seems to catch himself in mid-lecture; then his expression softens. “So thank you, for getting involved.” “Did I have a choice?” “No.” He relaxes in the leather chair. “You are involved, you know,” he says quietly. I see the city lights glowing softly behind him and feel, more than I can understand, that we aren’t talking about the case anymore. “I don’t know—” “Yes, you do. I’m involved too, Grace. Very involved, as a matter of fact.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I feel my heart start to pound softly. “We can’t do anything about it.” “Yes, we can. Give me your hand.” He holds out his hand to me. I look at it, suspended between us, at once a question and an answer. This situation is supposed to be black and white, but it doesn’t feel that way inside. “Stop thinking. Take it.” So I do, and it feels strong and warm. He pulls me in to him, as naturally as if we’ve done this a million times before, and in a second I feel myself in his arms and his kiss, gentle on my mouth. 

Suddenly I hear a noise outside the office and push myself away from his chest. “Did you hear that?” “What?” “There was a noise. Maybe the door?” ...

~~~

I'm certainly happy I kept on reading... You see, Lisa Scottoline has taken readers much further into the entire Justice System than most legal fiction books do. I even checked and the first 10% of this book introduces us to a group that we rarely even learn about other than as a very minor character. In this book, you see, it is the clerks of the judges who are leading much of the action--along with a certain undercover FBI agent... In fact, the POV is from Grace, who becomes the "amateur detective" since... well... because... Let me just tell you what happened...

Grace, has just come back to her law career, after a divorce. She is older than those who are just out of Law School, thrilled to be selected as a clerk, but, often, are lacking, shall we say, in the decorum, or, even more so, the maturity of what we normally see within legal communities--in books or television. Hey, I've been a Law and Order Fan for uncountable years!

The support of Judge Gregorian, Chief, is presently working on The Hightower (name of accused) case and discussion is moving throughout all levels as the political component moves into the forefront for affecting the decision... Yes, and readers will see much of the action of the opinions based upon each of the judges... Now, one totally irrelevant legal point is that there are several of the females supporting this apparently very striking judge becomes relevant very soon...

And that actually begins the investigation... It was Grace, who was not in criminal law, who was chosen to assist the Judge in preparing his final opinion... She was one of those who was attracted to her boss... So she was scared to have been chosen because she wouldn't know relevant laws, but at least she thought she could deal with her own issues...

At least until they were finally closing the all-night work session in the early AM hours and it was the Judge who initiated the seduction, ultimately telling her that he loved her... You'll have to read the details of those last few hours, however...

Because the important thing was that Judge Gregorian was dead by the next morning... Supposedly by suicide...

And of course Grace doesn't believe it... And through some strange and funny scenes, she is ultimately asked to assist the undercover FBI agent to be his informant...

I think about Hightower, who had no suburban soccer field, no fancy jersey or hundred-dollar cleats. One will go to Harvard; the other will be put to death. No justice, no peace.

“Let’s do it,” Eletha says grimly as we encounter the first wave of reporters along the wall of the outer lobby to the courthouse. “Grace! Grace Rossi!” one of them shouts. Shocked, I turn toward the voice. It’s the reporter from the day before, Sandy Faber. He’s wearing the same sport jacket and more stubble. “Remember what I said, Ms. Rossi?” “Which judge does she work for?” one of the women reporters asks. He ignores her, so she shouts at me. “Who do you work for, Ms. Rossi? Do you have any comment on Hightower? Why did it take so long to get the transcripts of the oral argument?” “Holy shit,” I hear Eletha mutter beside me. I push forward away from the reporters, but the lunchtime crowd is barely trickling out the narrow courthouse doors. “Come on, Ms. Rossi!” Faber shouts. “You gonna talk to me? Come on. Gimme a break here.” The heads of three other reporters snap in my direction. I feel Eletha’s hand on my forearm. “Who do you work for, Judge Meyerson? Judge Redd?” the woman shouts at me. “I can find out, you know.” “No comment,” I say. “Aw,” the woman says, “just tell me who you work for. It’s Simmons, right? That’s who? Simmons?” I feel Eletha’s talons dig into my arm; she seems shaken. I press ahead, pushing in line for the first time in my life as a good girl. It works. The crowd surges forward, and Eletha and I squeeze out the door and into the crowd outside the courthouse. “You all right?” I say to Eletha, but she can’t hear me over the Hightower supporters to our left. 

“No justice, no peace!” they chant. 

Their signs read: DEATH PENALTY=GENOCIDE OF AFRICAN AMERICANS! ABOLISH THE DEATH PENALTY! SUPREME COURT ADMITS “DISCREPANCY CORRELATES WITH RACE!” 

“Let’s just get out of here,” Eletha says. “I’m trying, El.” 

One of the signs is a picture of a young black teenager with smooth clear skin and a shy smile. He wears a red varsity football jacket. Hightower. The sound of the chanting resounds in my head. At the front line of the swelling Hightower contingent is a prominent black city councilman and members of the black clergy. An older black woman standing next to one of the clergymen catches my eye; she’s heavyset but dignified in an old-fashioned cotton dress, a calm eye at the center of a media hurricane. I recognize her from TV: Hightower’s mother, Mrs. Stevens. “Are you surprised by the amount of support that’s being shown for your son?” a TV reporter says to her, thrusting a bubble-headed microphone in front of her face. Mrs. Stevens looks startled, then the black councilman steps closer to the microphone, obstructing her from view. “We are going to hold a round-the-clock vigil to protest the death penalty, to show that it has always been racist in this country,” the councilman says. “The Baldus study shows that African Americans are more likely to receive the death penalty than whites.” 

“Push, Grace,” Eletha says. “Okay, okay,” I say. I force my way past the man in front of me, but find myself face-to-face with Mr. Gilpin, who’s standing in my path. Even in the midst of the hubbub, his face relaxes into a smile. “Hello there, my friend,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the din. “Is this pretty lady a friend of yours?” A tall black man in an X baseball cap chants over his shoulder, and behind him is the TV reporter and the black councilman. Gilpin acts like none of this is happening, as if it’s a squabble over a suburban fence, not an incipient race war. “Mr. Gilpin, this is Eletha Staples,” I say. Eletha extends a hand reluctantly. “Hello, Mr. Gilpin.” “Call me Bill, Eletha. You girls goin’ out to lunch?” 

“No justice, no peace!” booms a clear voice behind him, and the crowd begins to shove me aside. “We’d better go, we’re blocking the way,” I say. I edge forward, but Eletha gets jammed between one of the Hightower supporters and a TV technician. Gilpin grabs her arm and pulls her lightly to her feet. “Are you all right?” he says. “Get me out of here, please. I hate crowds.” She places a hand to her chest and starts breathing in and out. I’m worried she’s going to hyperventilate and Gilpin must see it too, because in one swift movement he scoops us up by the elbows and drives through the mob. He deposits us at the curb and brushes back a pomaded hank of hair. “I played football in high school,” he says. Eletha tugs a handkerchief from the sleeve of her sweater and dabs at her forehead. “Thanks a lot.” Gilpin’s eyes skim the crowd unhappily. “We started this, I know. But it’ll be over soon.” 

Which is when it occurs to me. The politics of the new Hightower panel is all over the newspapers; Galanter and Foudy aren’t closet conservatives. Gilpin must realize that Hightower’s going to lose, and he’s about to see his daughters’ murder avenged. I wonder if Gilpin is happy that Armen was killed. Suddenly I like him less. “We’d better be going,” I say. He nods. “Sure enough.” “Thanks again,” Eletha says, recovering. We cross Market Street and the chanting trails off into the noontime traffic, making me suddenly aware of Eletha’s stone silence. She chugs along the sidewalk like a locomotive and I tense up, feeling like a curtain has fallen between us: white on one side, black on the other. We come to the corner of Sixth and Chestnut and she squints up at the light. 

An executive takes a second look at her, then stares right at my breasts. 

My tension, pent up, bubbles over. “They’re a B-cup, okay?” I spit at him. “Any other questions?” The man hurries past us, and Eletha bursts into startled laughter. “I can’t believe you said that!” she says. “Neither can I. It felt great. Absolutely great.” I laugh, suddenly lighthearted. “I’ve been wanting to do that all my life.” “So have I.” I meet her eye. “Are you mad at me, girlfriend?” She shakes her head, still smiling. “I’m getting over it.” The traffic light turns green and we cross Chestnut. “It’s not my fault I’m white.” She laughs again. “It’s not that. It’s that I can’t believe you’re messin’ with Gilpin. You know better than that.” “I’m not messin’ with him. He talked to me the first day.” “You shoulda walked away.” “I couldn’t walk away, he’s a person.” 

She holds up a hand. “I don’t want to know he’s a person, and I don’t want to know Hightower’s a person. These are names on a caption, not people. If you start thinkin’ they’re people, you won’t be able to do your job. Look what happened to Armen.” “What?” We stop in front of Meyer’s Deli, the only place she’ll eat; Eletha’s not Jewish, but she practically keeps kosher. “What do you mean by that, about Armen?” She looks warily at the lunchtime crowd. “Let’s talk inside, okay?” We head into the noisy deli, with its old-time octagonal tile floor and embossed tin roof. Meyer’s is always mobbed, but the line moves quickly because everybody inhales their food; the clientele consists almost exclusively of hyperactive trial lawyers. The hostess accosts us at the door and hustles us to an orange plastic booth against the wall. Our waitress, Marlene, appears at our table from nowhere. “You havin’ the tuna fish?” she says to me, already writing down #12 on her pad. “Only if you call me ‘honey,’” I tell her. “I want someone to call me ‘honey,’ and not just for my body.” Eletha smiles. “Do what she says, Mar. She just attacked a man on the street.” “Okay, honey,” Marlene says mirthlessly. She tears off the check and puts it face down, like we’re at the Ritz-Carlton. “You havin’ the whitefish on bagel, Eletha?” she says, scribbling on the order pad. “Yes,” Eletha says. “What’s goin’ on at the courthouse, girls?” Marlene says. She rips Eletha’s check off the pad and slaps it face down on the table. 

“They gonna kill that kid?” Jesus. “We have no comment,” I say. Marlene scowls as she slips the ballpoint into her apron pocket. “I’m sick of the whole thing anyway,” she says and vanishes. Eletha leans forward. “So. I’ve been thinkin’ about what you said, about Armen. About him being murdered.” “What?” “Just accept that he’s gone, Grace. That’s hard enough. Anything else is a waste of time.” “I don’t understand. You don’t think he was murdered?” “I’m not so sure.” Now I really don’t understand. “Since when? That’s not what you said yesterday.” “I know what I said. But last night I tried to quit school, and they told me Armen paid already, in advance.” “What are you talking about? You go to school?” “Night school, at the community college. I got two more years left, and I’ve had it up to here.” She draws a line across her throat. Marlene materializes with our food. “Enjoy,” she barks and takes off again. “Eletha, I didn’t know you went to school.” “I thought Armen might’ve told you.” She picks up a bagel half and spackles it with whitefish salad. “He didn’t, but why didn’t you?” 

“It’s a secret.” She bites into her sandwich, but I’m still too surprised to start mine. “In case I flunk out.” “You won’t flunk out.” “You never know. The whole damn thing was Armen’s idea. Now he’s gone.” “But I think it’s wonderful, Eletha.” “You don’t have to do it, girl. Three nights a week I get home at eleven o’clock. I gotta take two buses, then transfer to the subway. Malcolm’s in bed, I don’t even get to see him. If I’m lucky, I got an hour left to fight with Leon. I figured if I got an associate’s degree, maybe I could transfer the credits and go on to college, then who knows.” “Maybe to law school?” She smiles. “Maybe.” “That sounds great. I think it’s great.” She puts down her sandwich. “Nah, it was a pipe dream. The only reason I didn’t quit was Armen. He’d have been on my case forever, like he was till I quit smoking. That man was too much. He paid my tuition for me, clear through to graduation.” “But why does he pay it at all, if I can ask?” “I couldn’t afford to, so we had an agreement. He lent me the money and I paid him back in installments. When they told me it was all paid off, I started thinkin’. Maybe it was a suicide. Maybe he was fixing it so I couldn’t quit after he was gone.” It can’t be. “Maybe he just wanted you not to worry about it.” She shakes her head. “I feel like quitting anyway.” “Don’t. He wouldn’t want you to.” “I know that.” She bites into her sandwich. “El, can I ask you a question?” She nods, her mouth full. “How much money are we talking about for your tuition?” “Couple thousand a semester.” “Where would Armen get that kind of money?” “He makes a fine livin’, hundred thirty thousand a year, and he saved like a fiend. He never spent a dime, that man.” It doesn’t make sense. Why would Armen save if he had over half a million dollars? “He was a saver?” “Always. But he was cheap, they all are.” “Who’s they? Judges?” “Armenians. You should see, when they’d have a dinner, I’d be countin’ dimes on my desk. Who had the iced tea, who had the wine. I’m serious.” “That’s racist, El.” “I know. But it’s true.” She laughs. “Did his family have money?” “No. Susan’s did, but he didn’t.” “So how much did he have saved, do you think?” “Maybe fifty–sixty thousand. He told me not to worry about it, he’d take care of Malcolm’s college. I worried plenty, but I don’t make enough to save shit. Why?” I look down at a half-eaten pickle. “Just curious.” 

We split up after lunch because Eletha has to run an errand; she promises me she’ll take the back entrance into the building, because there’s no demonstration there. As I reach the courthouse, I consider doing the same myself. The mob has grown. People spill out past the curb and into the street, filling the gaps between the TV vans and squad cars. The police ring the crowd, trying vainly to keep it out of Market Street. I cross against the traffic light, which turns out to be advisory anyway. A gaper block stalls traffic up and down the street. As I get closer to the courthouse, I see that something seems to be happening. The chanting stops suddenly; the crowd noise surges. Reporters and TV cameras rush to the door. I pick up my pace. It looks like breaking news, maybe the panel decision. My pulse quickens as I reach the edge of the crowd. I look for the hot orange cones that mark the walkway into the courthouse, but they’ve been scattered. “What’s going on?” I say, but am shoved into a woman in front of me. I turn around to see who’s pushing. A cameraman stands there, and a lawyer with a trial bag. “Sorry,” says the lawyer, sweating profusely behind horn-rimmed glasses. “It’s this person behind me.” “No!” someone screams at the head of the crowd, and then there’s more shouting and pushing. The mob’s moving out of control. I feel a sharp elbow in my back. It knocks me off balance. “There’s a decision!” someone shouts up front; then there’s more yelling, even screaming. I feel panic rising in my throat as the crowd swells toward the door, carrying me with it, almost off my feet. Suddenly there’s a painful whack at the back of my head. I feel faint, dizzy. Everything gets fuzzy. My arms flutter, groping for anything to stay upright. Gunshots ring out like distant firecrackers, and there’s screaming and shouting, also far away. Strong hands catch me from behind. Someone says in my ear, “This is a warning. Let the judge rest in peace.” The words and the pain melt together. And then slip beyond me. 

~~~

One will go to Harvard; the other will be put to death. No justice, no peace.

It reminds me of Armen, and our talk that night, over Hightower. Law and morality. You can’t separate them, why would you want to? Then I think of his broad back slumped over his desk. Armen was murdered, and murder is wrong. Illegal and immoral. Nothing I’ve learned tonight changes that, and I’m still the only one who has a chance of getting to Galanter. I rise, unsteadily. “Maybe I’m not out, Rain Man.”

If you have questions of exactly how and why we've begun to be greatly concerned about Justice in America, this is an excellent book from which you can learn about the inside of the system... We've seen the introduction of bias against non-white citizens and, the implementation of DEI, the override of established laws by The Supreme Court, in this case, resulting in the death of one judge and subsequent criminal actions which were discovered...by those in the legal staff... Yes, this is fiction, but there was too much that ran parallel to things happening today. By the way, the Judge's wife was a Senator and they were heading for divorce, but she asked that the judge stay with her until "after the election..." Manipulation, seeking personal power, and yet, learning of how it is the single individuals who work to investigation who in the end do...find...justice...

GABixlerReviews

Sometimes free will is not freeing. “I just don’t know. Whatever you think, Miss Rossi."

--Secretary to Conservative Judge 

Zerlina Maxwell Presents The End of White Politics: How to Heal Our Liberal Divide - The Author's Note - A Must-Read Book For NOW!

 

So, you may ask...Yes, I'm reading two books at once... Actually, three... I was pretty sure what this book would be talking about... I thank God that I was watching the right news program to hear about the book... This one I'm enjoying reading... All good info...

Whitehouse's book is also great information...But I get too upset with his investigation/reporting on The Supreme Court... So I read a little of this one and then spend more time with Maxwell...

For fun, I'm reading a novel about the first female president!

Back to Maxwell's Hypothetical/Future look for Us. It was written in 2020 and it's a little dated on presidential election information. But we all know that it has only gotten worse in 2024... And we are even more concerned about what the republican party intends to do... So, I thought I'd announce the book, provide the Author's Note from the front of the Book, and let you all know that it is, in my opinion, a must-read book? Why? There may be other women out there writing about these issues, but this is the first one that I've learned of... I've read beyond what I'm sharing today and have to say, I've been shocked about what she's saying about parts of the Democratic leader's followers... Needless to say that it's about a certain group of white men? It doesn't matter what party they decide to choose... More on that later...

Author’s Note 

When I first sat down to write this book, it was clear that our country desperately needed a revamp when it came to political representation—and that the end of white politics was on the horizon. And then, 2020 happened and knocked our fragile democracy right off its axis. After all, I wrote this entire book before the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic. I wrote it before Joe Biden became the president and Kamala Harris became the vice president. I wrote it before the violent white mob stormed the US Capitol on January 6, 2021. I wrote it before President Donald Trump was impeached for a second time. It’s like I had a crystal ball. 

Americans have long been hindered by both our dark history and the inability of our leadership to confront a racist framework that has consistently prioritized white comfort over Black and Brown life. And yet, if 2020 showed us anything, it’s that the end of white politics is knocking right on our front door. Case in point: the groundbreaking election of Kamala Harris as the first female, first Black, and first South Asian vice president of the United States, which represents both the changing demographics in the United States and the shifting spectrum through which power and politics here are played. 

The electorate of this country, so heavily comprised of women and people of color, yearn to be represented by people who look like them and who share their lived experiences. Harris doesn’t just represent what the end of white politics might look like; she’s ushering the end of white politics right into our living room. And yet, it’s not going to be easy. The tumultuous turmoil and civic unrest of the past year also showed us that seventy-four or so million Americans aren’t quite ready to let go of the power of their whiteness, and what’s more, they are willing to throw out the entire American democratic experiment to hold on to the promise of an America that no longer exists.

As our demographic shifts away from whiteness, our political landscape changes, and these electoral wins for our multiracial democracy provoke pushback and even violence from the fading white majority. Though our country was built on the foundations of freedom and democracy, it’s becoming quite clear that the biggest prize of all for many Americans is, in fact, power. 

After the November election results came in, this lingering legacy of white supremacy affirmed that these seventy-four million people are willing to destroy the entire American democratic establishment in order to prevent a coalition of people of color from becoming a politically powerful majority. Some of those seventy-four million were so afraid that they were willing to band together and launch an insurrection on the Capitol building in January 2021. Every step from the outside of the barricade into the Capitol building—into the House chamber, the Senate chamber, and up to the Senate floor podium—was made possible by white privilege. 

Every step they took without the fear of being shot or killed was undeniably white privilege. And yet, the very idea of the end of white politics is precisely what motivated the attack in the first place. When power slips from its grasp, the dying lion will always lash out. The insurrection of the Capitol was a death rattle to the America we’ve seen for the past four years—the death of America’s former king of the jungle, and the white supremacy that installed him there. 

And yet, despite all of the challenges that have risen up to meet it, positive change marches forward. Since Donald Trump was elected in 2016, we have dramatically expanded the American electorate; as a result, the promised demographic shifts are becoming a reality, illustrated by big electoral wins in the 2020 election. By registering and motivating the electorate to turn out to vote and make their voices heard, Stacey Abrams and other organizers facilitated the Democratic win of the Senate majority and turned Georgia blue for the first time since the Clinton years. This is no small feat. 

We’ve long considered the South full of so-called red states, but now, we’re taking our first steps toward a more diverse and inclusive future, one where all voices are considered and where the votes of communities of color aren’t suppressed. And Georgia won’t be the last red state, county, or district to turn blue. Stacey Abrams and her fellow organizers on the ground created a model for others across the rest of the nation to follow. 

These powerful movements begin by conversing with the people in these communities who are so often ignored by the mainstream and helping them to raise their political voice. Every voice, every vote, counts. What’s more, leaders like Abrams are approachable, accessible, and relatable to average Americans—those who are working for a living, fearing eviction, and suffocating in student loan debt, all experiences that the millionaires in the Senate have no familiarity with and thus can never effectively legislate for. 

Leaders who truly represent the American electorate feel a sense of urgency to alleviate the pressure so many Americans feel—especially in the darkest depths of the deadly COVID-19 pandemic—because they, too, feel these pressures in their own lives and lived experiences. And by electing these leaders to positions of power where they can make a real impact, we inch closer to our Founding Fathers’ goal of “freedom and justice for all.” 

A week before Kamala Harris became our MVP, or Madam Vice President, my brilliant Sirius XM cohost Jess McIntosh said: “We have elected younger, more diverse, more progressive representatives since Donald Trump was elected...[including the addition of] Jon Ossoff and Reverend Raphael Warnock to the Senate in Georgia. This is us building a democracy.” And she’s right. We don’t get here by accident; we get here by action. To maintain this representative electorate, as well as the momentum of recent Democratic wins in states like Georgia, we have to focus on what worked and who made it work.

Ultimately, the on-the-ground organizers and leaders in these communities are the ones who truly understand the electorate they are serving and are the most fit to lead them. And by electing them, empowering them, and holding them accountable—that’s how we preserve the integrity of the more representative electorate in future generations. That’s how we promote real progress and change. And as we support the newly-created infrastructure that has elevated these leaders to positions of power, they can then, in turn, break through the barriers and open the door for even more members of a diverse electorate to join them in the chambers where policies are being made. If we want to keep moving forward, we can’t stop until our legislative is truly representative of the increasingly diverse population they serve. 

When we talk about the future of American politics—that is, the end of white politics—we’re talking about building a democracy for ourselves in which the will of the people, all of the people, will reign supreme. A future where the American populace looks a lot more like Kamala Harris and less like Mitch McConnell. A future where our legislative power structure is representative and inclusive, where the lived experiences of women and people of color are not only considered but valued in the formation and passing of legislation. A future where Americans can represent themselves and see themselves represented. At the end of the day, if we want to make this idealized America a reality, we need to facilitate the end of white politics so that a new era of truly representative politics can begin. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do. 

~~~

You know, Folks, there are many, maybe your neighbors, who oppose anybody who are not white... This is not what Jesus Taught Us...

I can only speak for myself...

I Support ALL God's Children Not Just White People

And I am Quite Upset we must now, again, fight for basic human rights!

Comments are always welcome...

GABixlerReviews

An Opinion Piece - On Lady Justice: Women, The Law, and The Battle to Save America by Dahlia Lithwick - A Must-Read For Women!

Freedom is a dream

Haunting as amber wine

Or worlds remembered out of time.

Not Eden’s gate, but freedom

Lures us down a trail of skulls

Where men forever crush the dreamers—

Never the dream.

—pauli murray, “Dark Testament”

I’m not sure if my involvement in causes, benefits, marches, and demonstrations has made a huge difference, but I know one thing: that involvement has connected me with the good people: people with the live hearts, the live eyes, the live heads.

—pete seeger

I sometimes think of the Supreme Court oral arguments in Whole Woman’s Health v. Hellerstedt on March 2, 2016, as the last truly great day for women and the legal system in America. There are, to be sure, many such glorious moments to choose from, both before and after Trump, but as a professional court-watcher I had a front-row seat to this story, one that offered a sense that women in the United States had achieved some milestone that would never be reversed. The landmark abortion challenge represented the first time in American history that a historic abortion case was being heard by a Supreme Court with three female justices.

Buried in that story is the truth about how legal decisions involving women, their salaries, their bodies, their educations, custody of their children, and their votes have been framed in American courtrooms until very recently: by husbands and fathers with good intentions and staggeringly low information. We lucked out. We got contraception and access to military schools, the right to our own credit cards, and all sorts of equal rights over the years...

And then it was gone. With the death of Justice Ginsburg in September 2020; the seating of three committed anti-choice justices by Donald Trump in the years since Whole Woman’s Health; and the reversal of Roe in June of 2022, that case will now likely stand as a high-water mark we may not soon see again in the courts, or in women’s constitutional progress. It has become, at least for me, a marker of the end of history, but in completely the wrong direction. In a matter of weeks after Whole Woman’s Health came down, constitutional history began to unravel quickly.

So, what does an opinion piece mean as opposed to just being a review? And I may use a liberal amount of sarcasm, just because... So, I'm talking about the present and future more than the book itself, based upon what is covered in the book... OK? Feel free to make comments, ask questions, or just your thoughts and feedback on this "opinionated post" LOL

Readers, I highly recommend Lady Justice, especially to all women around the world.  Recently in a conversation with my best friend, we mutually came to a conclusion that America should become an Amazonian Country... Why? Because everywhere we were looking, we saw women in government, state and federal, who were "doing their job!" Wow, yes, that's all, they are doing their jobs! As opposed to many men, especially in politics, and especially in Congress, who are, on the norm, slow to act, slow to research and use Truth, and slow to...do...their...jobs! Seriously! So, if this is true, don't we need to reconsider how women are, today, being treated?!

I watched as Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg fought her battle to...stay alive... She had every right to expect what would happen if she was no longer on earth to protect the rights of women... And it did! Could she have saved the Supreme Court from overturning Roe. I'll wager that she would have! Instead, what we have now seen over and over and over regarding the highest court in our country, is that it has become seriously flawed... And no longer, a Court that could be Trusted. In fact, Ginsberg is not even mentioned in this book, which is, of course, not a book of historical events... Rather a book to tell us just exactly what has occurred over the last nearly decade! One of the first cases was, I discovered, the prosecution of hundreds of individuals who were participants the Virginia protest case in which a woman was killed by automobile! Few details were provided however.

Basically, this book is just about women doing their jobs... You know, the ones that need to get done routinely and based upon extensive research and documentation! The one, also, that would never get publicized much because they weren't handled by a man... men who, for whatever reason, have continued to assume dictatorial roles in just about anything they do...  A man like the past president of America.

I added a video above just for a little light humor, along with much of my sarcastic comments, LOL, but, as well as an awareness that we women MUST look toward our future in ALL things. In my opinion, the future of America now has little to do with Trump. In fact, he is merely a distraction of what is actually happening across the nation. You feel it, don't you? There is much more violence... There are many more guns in the hands of many who should never be allowed to touch them. And more people are dying in America due to guns than at any other time, and only in America! Children are more aware than many would think they are. It is clear that at a certain age, somewhat between toddler and going to schools, they are hearing what is being said... Many know the name of the former president...

I remember early in his administration, there was a story, perhaps true or not, but seemed to be something that could really happen these days. A young boy was chastized at school and then at home for bullying another student. At home he calmly said, I figure if the president can do it, then it must be the "right" think to do... Indeed, there is much for the average citizen these days who can question, what in the world is happening in America!

Importantly, there has been a major shift of the far right in moving backward. They want to eliminate all the advances that have occurred over the last 2000+ years. They claim they want to make america great again... You know, when white men ran everything, including all families, all businesses, and all potential future advancements. Now, many white men such as the former president, who was quite open in his actions regarding women, including rape, for which he has been convicted, and for defamation, which he has also been convicted, and which is now being considered as part of a criminal trial now underway in New York... Men want the old days--they don't want them because women and blacks in particular in America will be able to take advantage of any new advancement...and maybe learn more, even more than their men who want to savor all that power... their violent toys...

I've learned that it didn't start in 2015, prior to the election. That was just when a former reality star decided to claim power over America... And succeeded, even though he was not chosen by the majority of Americans...

Now, here's the first questionable issue... Election Fraud--manipulation of the voting apparatus, gerrymandering, and any other scheme that can be used to attempt to keep women and blacks from voting... That, by the way, doesn't mean that they also don't want Jews, Immigrants from any place that does not have white citizens, preferably also male, et.al., 

It is just that they learned by 2015 that women and black women in particular have a strong coordinated effort to "bond..." You know what I mean, right? We've all bonded over one thing or another... First women wanted to vote, so everybody bonded together and we got the right to vote... at least to a great extent, but there has always been holdouts who continue to reject advancement... Then the MeToo Movement...

This book spotlights Stacey Abrams! Of course, I've also started reading her books once I knew that she had started under a pseudonym, but it was her presence, her ability to communicate, and our being able to see clearly that she CARED! that brought us to her... But I didn't know what had happened to her after not winning the position of governor... Well, they now call her The Game Changer! 

And, after that election, when she was offered other jobs in the federal government, she chose to stay and continue exactly what she had been doing. Only nation-wide! Everybody knows her name--or at least every woman knows her name... This book talks about a number of women who are taking on the illegal manipulation of things like redistricting, the effect of the census... all those "routine" things that none of us really entirely understood since, perhaps, our state was fairly stable most of the year...or just didn't broadcast what was being done to ensure redistributing was handled to ensure that those people "they" didn't think should be allowed to vote, became of little consequence to the overall state voting activity... that they wanted...

Now think about this. Right Now! If your state is a primary red state, it is my understanding that those who vote red will ensure that if you, who live in that state, but are fed  up with what has happened since, say, for instance, Roe's overturn, then you just might have been redistricted out of your vote not counting much for the state's results... If you are confused, well, just know that I am too. However, what I do know and am quite familiar with is that, Donald Trump did not win the popular vote!!! Hillary Clinton did!!! Yes, in 2016, it was only the Electoral Votes that elected Trump into a presidency like no other in our country's history! And now I know from reading this book, that people in power who want to make sure they win will lie, cheat, maneuver, and downright invent electors, if they can get away with it to make their candidate win! Did you know, for instance, that it was a conservative Supreme Court, who confirmed the second Bush president, who was NOT the popular vote winner... And, I have to ask, do you begin to see a pattern that it is only the Republican Party that does these types of obfuscation? At least during the last decade... I refuse to look further back than that... History is history and cannot be changed. But you can use historical and present events to ensure something doesn't happen again...

Thus, I've turned this book into an opinion piece. If you have not yet read any book oriented toward the Trump Years as President or, very important, what happened on January 6th to attempt to change the results of the 2020 election during which Joe Biden was elected as the new president. Lady Justice gives you a great overview of legal actions taking place during that time... On the other hand, if you have kept yourself fairly up-to-date on current events incited or implemented by the republican party, I want to spotlight those issues that concern me the most...

The governor signed this bill! I've just finished reading a novel about this issue... Watch for it soon!

This is the latest effort by republicans to maneuver events related to the election...This is not lying, this is real, this is the truth--part of the conspiracy by MAGA to ensure that Donald Trump would win the election in 2020! (Concurrent planning with the January 6th insurrection planning!) Also now moving toward beginning the trial. Other states have also filed suits against fake electors activity as part of the 2020 election overthrow... Please be sure you are on alert for the 2024 election, no matter how you vote... Make sure your vote counts! Frankly, I believe that most of America knows what is going on to vote...but when we know the type of shenanigans' done by the republican party, by white christian nationalists, by Putin to again provide disinformation and be involved in the next election as Russian was indicted for in the 2016 election.

Let's look at another state--Wisconsin as well as other states, including Georgia which are also moving toward heading to trial.

Lithwick points out that one of the the first thing done was the banning at the border potential immigrants from certain countries... But, sometimes, Trump was stopped by law... He then began to appeal--more appeals for two reasons. First to possibly delay action Trump didn't want to happen. Or, to disagree with the law and begin to figure out how to get around Laws!

Also, you need to be watching as to what the Supreme Court announced related to Trump's case about he should be immune for...anything..."

Readers, please be alert and do your research... If this case is that Trump is determined to be immune of all issues during his administration, then we will KNOW THAT THE SUPREME COURT HAS BEEN COMPROMISED! No man is above the Law... Don't let the republicans give you the slighted idea that this could be different for the past president! To me, this has NO basis for even being considered...if you follow the law!

I know, I know, you are all concerned about being able to buy your groceries, for paying for bills! At the same time, however, if we are all now cognizant--mindful--of the facts that are being performed illegally across the nation, you will undoubtedly also realize that without our freedoms, without our ability to vote and act freely and honestly with no fear of corruption, especially as women, non-whites or non white nationalist christians, the entire core of America's democracy will be criminally taken over as the new Supreme Courts Justice opined, then we are leading to the Oval Office being nothing about a location for a criminal enterprise, headed by the 2024 republican candidate (the latter part of this sentence is my clarifying opinion of her judgment)...

GABixlerReviews

 

Those Who Dwell Upon the Earth by James D. Sanderson A Must-Read Masterpiece...

My first encounter with a book by Hal Lindsey was quite exciting. I was young enough that I thought and looked forward to the time when Christ would come again. Since then, I've read a few more books on the topic and realized that it was not up to man to decide when that Second Coming would occur. Nor, was it necessarily to be associated with the end of the world. Yet time after time it is routinely brought up. During the present, one of the points made was related to Jerusalem. Yet, nothing happened... We didn't see a change just because America decided to relocate, or did we? 

The thing that I've come to question is whether or not the "good" would be taken before "that" occurred. Suppose, just suppose that's not what happens. What if a North Korea nuclear bomb destroyed much of the world. But, there were still Those Who Dwell Upon the Earth? 

One of the questions posed would then be, are we ready to dwell here on earth as a follower of Jesus?  There was another Jesus who is the main character in this book. He, too, found it hard to live within America as the future has left us. How would you do?

STRANGER ON THE SHORE

A stick of black helicopters skirted the far edge of the dawn.  No one knew change was coming, least of all the four brothers.  They made their way along the shoreline toward the north end of the lake.  All night a filthy rain had fallen and now the sun was trying to open its sticky eye.  

One of them, Thomas, waded out to his knees to retrieve a good-sized carp that had gone belly up.  He held it up triumphantly, his fingers jammed up into its gills, and said, “It doesn’t look too bad.”  Now he examined it in an animated way, as with a critical eye.  “Not bad at all.” 

“I can smell that thing from here,” one of the others said. In spite of that comment, Thomas brought the fish along with him back to the shore. 

They were trying to find a man others had told them about.  “A man who knows everything.” 

“No one knows everything,” another of the men, James, had said.  He was bookish, so he should know.  Bookish was a word that had been used before the advent of computers.  Now, whenever a book was found in the rubble and wreckage of a lost building, he would carefully dig it out.  

The others laughed and hooted.  “What are you going to do with that?” 

“Read it,” he’d say with a bemused smile. 

“What for?” 

“For a while.” 

“He’s found another cookbook.” 

“Not this time.”  He’d hold up his latest treasure – whether ‘Fathers and Sons’ or ‘Trout Fishing in the Rockies,’ carefully brush it off and place it in his carry bag.  He seemed to be physically afflicted when he was forced to discard one to make room for another.  A man can carry only so much weight. 

The third brother, Andrew, took the lead now.  “Let’s get going,” he said. “What’s your hurry?”  Thomas was considering gutting and cleaning the carp then and there. 

“We haven’t got all day.”  He set out. 

“Yeah, yeah.” The fourth among them, Matthew, was somewhat quieter than the others.  He had fine features and sandy hair.  

They were brothers, as different as they were from one another… 

Along here bushes and small trees had begun to sprout and grow.  Future replacements for those that had been charred in the unquenchable fires. 

They smelled breakfast smoke some minutes before they came upon a young man sitting on a rock warming his hands at a fire.  Several fine trout were laid out, prepared to join the two that were already popping and cooking on an improvised metal grate.

“Why don’t you join me,” the man said, looking up at them with gentle eyes. “We might do that,” Andrew said. 

“We could eat,” Thomas said. 

“Why don’t you go bury that carp?  It looks corrupted.” Thomas turned part way to his left and slung the fish back into the lake.  The splash it made was upsetting in the still of the morning. 

“Please…”  The young man motioned for them to sit on the fallen log and several rocks that were naturally arranged around the fire.  

They did not sit. “We’re looking for a man we’ve heard about,” James said. “What man?” 

“A man they say knows everything.” 

“No one knows everything,” their host said with a snicker. 

“That’s what I said.”  James seemed pleased to have said it. 

“Tell me,” Thomas pointed at the fish.  “Where’d you get these perfect trout?  Not in this lake.” 

The man pursed his lips and jerked his chin Native American style toward the top of the lake.  “A perfect stream feeds this lake.” 

“No one is stocking these streams.” 

“Native cutthroat and rainbow are making a comeback.” 

“Now that things are… recovering?” 

“That’s right.” Thomas grunted.  “That’s a miracle!” 

The stranger began to break off pieces of the hot fish and hand them around.  The brothers patted the hot pieces back and forth in their hands, blowing on them before they burned their fingers.  He picked up the other trout and placed them on the hot grill.  

The four brothers finished eating quickly and stood around waiting for the rest of the fish to be cooked. 

“Say,” the younger man said, “you all seem to be pretty easy around strangers… considering… everything.” 

James laughed shortly.  “You don’t seem very dangerous.” 

Thomas lifted his flannel shirt and undershirt, and proudly showed the 9mm Glock he was carrying in his belt. 

“Is it loaded?”

 “Of course,” he growled.  “This baby puts an end to a lot of foolishness.” 

“I can see that it would.” 

“Like he said,” he pointed at James.  “You don’t seem very dangerous.” 

“I’m not,” the other agreed amiably. 

“Where are your weapons?” 

“I get by without them.” 

The brothers looked askance of each other.  Finally Thomas said, “Bears are making a comeback too.” 

The young man smiled.  “I know.”  After a long pause he asked their names.  The oldest was James, bookman.  Then Thomas, the wild one.  Then Andrew, who seemed calculating somehow.  Then Matthew, the quiet. 

“What’s your name?” 

“My name is Jesus.” 

Again the brothers looked at each other, not quite believing what they had heard.  James asked the obvious question.  “You mean like… the real Jesus?” “I’m not him, of course.  But that’s what my parents named me.” 

“And your parents…” 

“Dead.” 

“Ours too. In the Great… whatever it was.” 

The moment passed.  The tension caused by the speaking of that name eased.  “I don’t know what was so great about it,” Thomas said at last.  An old joke, but it seemed to work now among strangers. 

“Sit down.  Sit down.” The brothers sat.  Jesus passed out the rest of the fish.  They ate in silence. 

Then, “Are you headed anywhere?” Andrew asked.  “Or is this your home?” “I’ve been here forty days.  You?” 

“As we said, we are looking for this man…  We’ve become curious about him.” Jesus nodded.  “You have made me curious too.  Perhaps we could look for him together.” 

The brothers conferred silently, looking back and forth at each other.  Then Andrew said, “Sure, why not?” 

~~~

The book begins by using familiar names of characters of the Bible. I thought about this more as I read. Do names really matter? Jesus, for the sake of acquiring attention, was used for the main character. But, other than that, wouldn't the same be happening if we are Christians of any name, maybe Glenda, or Harold, who have been and are now, because of "The Troubles" being even more persecuted by a lawless, powerful, and unmerciful world that includes, the government, the rich corporations...and the Certain Way of Truth Church, the official church of our country...

The average American was hungry, had no money, if working, may have had a job where they had no control over anything that happened there. Perhaps they were not even welcomed at the Certain Way of Truth Church...

Opening with a scene that could have appeared in the Bible...but in reverse...we come upon a group of brothers who were roaming through the country...One saw a large fish, which wasn't so much damaged from the radiation that... well, he carried it for awhile... Until the brothers came upon a stranger who was cooking fish over a fire, and had plenty more waiting. Not sitting down, they stood, gaping perhaps at the fish. The man asked if they would like to join him...

His name, he said, was Jesus. And at their surprise, quickly said he was not that one, but his mother thought he was destined for good things and so named him after the Savior... It is not hard to get into the use of Jesus as a main character. After all, we have read about Him often in the Bible... Yes, the Bible was extensively referred to, taught, and taken as to how to deal with what had happened to the world that God had made for all of us.

They had found an old building and claimed it in the Name of the Lord.

You may be familiar with WWJD (What would Jesus Do?) Jesus, the main character, answers the questions from his ever-growing followers...and government officials, based upon the teachings of Jesus. Jesus began, with his four new friends, by feeding them when they were hungry. Then he talked about everybody sharing what they had with everybody else and purchase what was available for distribution. They had found an old building and claimed it in the Name of the Lord. That was their first building where everybody's needs were met. At the same time, he began to spend time talking about Jesus and how his words and acts would respond to all their needs. Soon the town was flourishing, with nobody hungry. A bartering system was implemented...and more...

What was happening soon became a concern, however,...food was being grown and not purchased, for instance. Food merchants began losing money. A doctor had joined the group and soon was serving medical needs...

Then, one day, the doctor was stopped...by "The Fist of Christ," and worked to put fear into the doctor. He responded by asking what they wanted from him. They answered that they were displeased a shop had been set up as a church, when there's a perfectly good church already." And they did't have a license!

Gasping now, the doctor replied as best he could, “Illness and physical limitations are actually part and parcel with the cycle of poverty.  When a worker gets sick, he misses work.  He doesn’t get paid for the time he misses.  The people prefer their own bad system over the shiny but expensive, and thus unattainable, state system.”

Soon, empty housing that had been boarded up, were also claimed in the Name of Jesus... Housing was being provided through the work of others and sharing to those in need...

You may think that all of these are good things--yes, that this was what Jesus would do... But, Jesus and his followers were rejected, harassed, thrown in jail...building owners of those empty buildings sought their legal rights to have eviction of those now in their buildings...

Many of these things have happened already, the poor and homeless are not welcomed. Those seeking asylum are abused and threatened. Children are separated from their parents. Religion is being used to serve the needs of the rich and powerful and for political gain.

But WWJD if he were here...If we have already reached the point, after The Troubles" where America had totally changed to exclude the downtrodden, those yearning to be free. When we know, then, that the nuclear bomb is not the worst thing that could happen to America and the World...

Sanderson has written what I must call a masterpiece story where the apocalypse was not the result of the bomb...it was the result of power and greed and a loss of Love... where even then, a new, epic story arises, through those who are being led by the man who also was called Jesus...And the power of God's Son...

I would call this a must-read recommendation. More on the Study Guide Soon...

GABixlerReviews

I have been a writer nearly my entire life. Even at age twelve I was writing short stories, though I’m sure they would seem embarrassingly childish now. At times it seemed the only way I could express myself. 

I always read great literature as well. My friends made fun of me when I brought a large book with me to ball practice. In fact I read everything I could get my hands on – from adventure novels to the latest articles in Field and Stream or Outdoor magazines. 

Growing up in Michigan, I was a big fan of Hemingway, but I read Dickens and Pearl Buck and Conrad and Willa Cather and, later, Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. My love for books has not diminished with age. 

I have written a short work of nonfiction – ‘Called To Love’ about the Christian love ethic – and a collection of short stories – ‘Sacred Are the Brave’ about the nonviolent revolutions of the 1980s, available on Amazon Kindle. 

I wanted to write a novel that would express everything I know about writing and faith and the Church – especially the New Testament Church. I hit upon a time in the near future when believers would face many trials – from an authoritarian government, terrorists, an ‘official’ church, and the wreckage of an apocalyptic event, in this case nuclear war. 

How will our faith hold up in such a time? My wife and I have been in a unique ministry for thirty years. In all that time we have ministered to the poor, the disenfranchised, the homeless, and the addicted. 

Ours has not been a ‘normal’ experience of church. Out of that experience, then, has grown my latest novel, ‘Those Who Dwell Upon the Earth’. It will be released on September 1st in Kindle and Trade Paperback. A Reader’s Guide will also be available on Kindle. An audio version will be available soon as well. 

For more about me and my work please see my blog: jamesdsanderson.blogspot.com