Chapter 649 - 302: A Future of Forced Submission

He could tell his donors, "I did my best, but the judges wouldn’t let it pass."

He could tell the voters, "I respect judicial independence."

He could completely extricate himself from this storm, becoming a tragic hero who defended the sanctity of the Constitution.

Kaufman was confident that no judge with a proper legal education would ever allow such a blatant act of legislative hostage-taking to be legalized.

Leo sat in his chair, his expression still calm.

"Are you finished?"

Leo asked faintly.

Kaufman, still feigning heavy breathing, stared daggers at him.

Leo stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window of his office, and pulled open the heavy velvet curtains.

Blinding sunlight instantly flooded the room, making Kaufman, who was used to the dim environment, narrow his eyes.

Leo pointed out the window.

"Mr. Speaker, come and take a look."

Kaufman hesitated for a moment but walked over anyway.

He followed Leo’s finger, looking toward the square in front of the Parliament Building.

It was empty, save for a few pigeons strutting on the gray flagstones.

"What am I looking at?" Kaufman frowned. "The scenery?"

"Public opinion," Leo replied.

"Public opinion?" Kaufman scoffed. "Where is the public opinion?"

"That’s right, there’s no one in the square."

Leo nodded, took out his phone, and held it in front of Kaufman.

"But they’re here." Leo pointed at the screen. "On X, on Facebook, in every community forum."

"In the last ten minutes alone, there have been over three thousand posts trending with the hashtag #KaufmanKillsPennsylvania."

Leo pulled his phone back, watching Kaufman’s expression begin to change.

"Mr. Speaker, times have changed. Public opinion is no longer about the number of people gathered in a square. It’s a data stream, a torrential force that could make your phone explode from overheating in the next second."

"Of course, you might say that judges don’t look at public opinion, they only look at the law."

Leo turned his head, looking at Kaufman’s profile.

"At the Federal Supreme Court, those judges with lifetime appointments might be able to hide in their Ivory Tower and ignore the cries outside their window. They don’t need to please anyone; they are only accountable to the Constitution."

"But," Leo’s tone turned mocking, "this is Pennsylvania."

"Mr. Speaker, you should know this state’s judicial system better than I do."

"The judges at every level in Pennsylvania, including the justices of the state Supreme Court."

"They aren’t appointed."

"They are elected."

Pennsylvania is one of the few states in the United States that insists on a system of electing its judges.

Here, judges are also politicians.

They need to fundraise, they need to campaign, they need to do community outreach, they need to print their names on ballots and beg voters to check the box next to them.

Since it’s an election, it means they have terms.

It means they have fear.

It means they have to pay attention to what the voters think.

Leo continued, each word a hammer blow to Kaufman’s chest.

"There are seats on the state Supreme Court up for re-election, seats on the Philadelphia circuit court that need filling, and the judges in the Harrisburg district court are already tearing their hair out over their re-election campaigns."

"You can file a lawsuit."

Leo made a "go ahead" gesture.

"You can submit the complaint, accusing me of improper bundling."

"But I suggest you first ask those honorable judges sitting on the bench."

"Ask them if, at a critical juncture like this, they would dare to take this case."

Leo’s gaze grew sharp, imbued with a chilling clarity.

"Do you think any judge would dare, at this moment, to rule that using money saved from medication to repair roads is illegal, all to protect the profits of insurance companies and so-called procedural purity?"

"If one did make that ruling..."

Leo walked to the desk, picked up the draft of the bill, and tapped it lightly against his palm.

"The very next day, I would use all my funds to support his opponent."

"I would have elderly people who can’t afford their medicine and workers waiting for jobs standing outside that judge’s house, twenty-four hours a day."

"I would have the contractors who lost out on jobs go ’have a chat’ with him in his office."

"I would turn him into a cold-blooded, heartless legal pedant on TV commercials, someone who only cares about the letter of the law and ignores whether people live or die."

"Do you think he could still win his election?"

Cold sweat beaded on Kaufman’s back.

He knew those judges all too well.

Normally, they would indeed act upright and incorruptible to uphold the dignity of the law.

But when their own livelihoods were on the line, they were utterly spineless.

Judges are human, too.

They have mortgages, kids to put through school, and the ambition to climb higher.

If a single ruling could destroy their careers, they would, without hesitation, find a hundred reasons to recuse themselves from the case, or simply issue a verdict that aligns with public opinion.

This was reality.

The law is dead, written on paper—cold and hard.

But judges are alive.

They are flesh and blood, and more importantly, they feel fear.

"No one is going to commit career suicide for you, Mr. Speaker."

Leo looked at Kaufman and delivered his final conclusion.

"The paltry political donations they get from insurance companies can’t buy their political careers."

"If, at a time like this, you’re counting on the judicial system to be your shield..."

"Then you are far too naive."

"They will be the first to jump out and praise this bill as a model of using innovative financial means to solve the people’s problems, and then they’ll ride the wave and dismiss your lawsuit."