President Bush

Plaintiffs have won a rare victory against the government in a case involving the state secrets privilege. On April 1, 2010, Federal District Judge Vaughn Walker ruled in favor of Al-Haramain Islamic Foundation, Inc., a now-defunct Islamic charity that had sued the government for intercepting its employees' international telephone conversations without obtaining a warrant. Al-Haramain claimed the government's warrantless wiretap violated the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA), a federal law that limits the government's ability to eavesdrop on its citizens. The case is one of several challenging the National Security Agency's warrantless wiretapping program. The government has responded to all such lawsuits by arguing because its surveillance activities concern national security, the state secrets privilege requires dismissal of claims that it violated FISA.

Yet FISA was enacted for the very purpose of preventing the government from eavesdropping without a warrant, and it provides a mechanism by which individuals or groups who believe they have been victims of an unlawful government wiretap can seek redress in the courts even when the claim relies on classified evidence. Under FISA, if a plaintiff establishes a "colorable basis" for believing that it has been subject to unlawful surveillance, the Court can then examine classified evidence in camera to determine whether the surveillance occurred, and if so whether it was lawful.

Rising Road is one of those books that happened by accident; a chance occurrence on the way to somewhere else.

After the outcome of the election in 2004, when the country was abuzz with reports of how the question of gay marriage drove President George W. Bush's supporters from their homes to the voting booths, I began to think about law and marriage, and the way of constitutional change.

It was a topic of great personal importance to me, law and marriage. Had my parents been swayed by the marriage laws that were still in place in various states at the time of my birth, I would never have been born. Neither would any of my five brothers or sisters. It was the era of the anti-miscegenation laws. The simple act of having us was a crime, a number of states declared, and they backed the ban up with the criminal sanction. Defiant mixed race couples could be jailed.

I was nearly seven-years-old by the time the U.S. Supreme Court finally got around to striking those laws down. Seems my siblings and I weren't crimes after all. It was the law that was wrong, the Court announced in Loving v. Virginia in 1967. The decision was unanimous. Even Justice Hugo Black agreed, though a son of the South, the region of the country most steadfastly devoted to the anti-miscegenation regime.

After the election in 2004, I wondered how constitutional change like that came about-how acts of intimacy, and marriage, and the wee beings that can result from them, could one day be outlawed, and another day not. I will write an article about that, I thought to myself, and set to work.

When doing the researching for that intended article, however, the unexpected happened. I tripped over a reference to a 1921 trial in Birmingham, Alabama. A murder trial, where the marriage of the daughter of a Methodist minister to a Catholic migrant from Puerto Rico, led the minister to kill the Catholic priest who took their vows. How horrible, I thought. I'll use it as an example in my article.