by Paul L Maier
“His vicious attacks have discredited me. Here, as a faithful Christian, I was only trying to alert the world that Jesus will be coming again soon, when I was maligned not by an atheist or agnostic or Communist, but by someone who claims to be a Christian himself!”
“Objection, Your Honor!” Stanwick called out. “Such comments impugn the defendant’s Christian faith, which is certainly genuine, as his biography of Jesus clearly demonstrates.”
“Objection sustained. The defendant’s own religious beliefs are not on trial here. You may proceed.”
Pomeroy continued. “Dr. Merton, do y’all really think your ministry is ‘effectively ended,’ or at least compromised?”
Merton thought for a moment, then replied, “Perhaps ended is too strong a term. But more than compromised would be an appropriate phrase, as our statistics show.”
Pomeroy then produced several charts allegedly supporting this claim and handed them to the judge as Exhibit A. Parker directed that these be handed on to the defense and to the jury.
After several other questions and prompts, Pomeroy smiled at his client and said, “Thank you very much, Dr. Merton, for your very helpful testimony.” Then he turned to Stanwick and said, “Y’all’s witness.”
In cross-examination Stanwick demonstrated that deposit records from Merton’s Points of Prophecy television show revealed very little reduction in contributions. True, publishers’ royalty statements on Merton’s books showed a decline in sales for the past three months, but that was the case every summer. The statistics, therefore, proved little or nothing. Jon was almost sorry that the Newsweek article seemed to have had less effect on the reading public than he had hoped.
Merton gave measured responses in his cross-examination until Stanwick walked over to him and asked, his head just inches from the plaintiff’s, “Dr. Merton . . . isn’t this case a superb example of the shoe being on the other foot?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Think back to Easter in Jerusalem several years ago, when you addressed a mass meeting of your followers on the slopes of the Mount of Olives. Did you or did you not publicly call Dr. Weber ‘the Antichrist’ on that occasion?”
“No, I certainly did not!”
“Correct, Dr. Merton. But a week earlier, during a Palm Sunday procession into Jerusalem, did you or did you not call Dr. Weber ‘the Antichrist’ on that occasion?”
Merton coughed, shifted in the witness chair, and said, “Well, ah, yes, I suppose I did. But that was only for . . . for rhetorical effect. It had no significance whatever.”
“Didn’t your statement so inflame your followers in that parade that they rioted, grabbed Professor Weber and his friend, Miss Shannon Jennings, hoisted them up in their arms, and started carrying them into Jerusalem at the head of their procession?”
Commotion filled the courtroom. Again Judge Parker banged his gavel.
“Ye-es,” Merton admitted. “But I ordered my people to stop, and Dr. Weber and Miss Jennings were soon released.”
“Only because the Israeli police arrived and saved them from possible lynching, Dr. Merton. Isn’t that true?”
“I . . . don’t believe it would have gone that far.”
Stanwick placed an aging copy of the Jerusalem Post in front of Merton. On the front page was a report of the riot, with a photograph of Jon and Shannon being carried at the head of the crowd, a look of stark terror on Shannon’s face. He then submitted the newspaper to the judge as Exhibit B, requesting that copies be given both to the plaintiff and the jury. One of the headers in the story ran “Archaeologist Called Antichrist,” which only compounded Merton’s embarrassment.
Stanwick excused Merton and called Jonathan Weber to the stand. His first question, after Jon was sworn in, picked up on the Jerusalem incident. “Professor Weber, do you recall exactly what Dr. Merton said in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday when he called you the Antichrist?”
“Yes. One tends to remember hazardous events.”
“What were his words?”
“Dr. Merton pointed in my direction and shouted, ‘He is the Antichrist named Weber.’ Then he pointed to Shannon Jennings and added, ‘And she is the daughter of the other devil named Jennings!’”
Rumblings of surprise and shock surfaced in the courtroom.
“Did you then bring suit for libel against Dr. Merton?” asked Stanwick.
“No, I did not.”
“Did you ever contemplate doing so?”
“No, certainly not.”
“Why not?”
“That episode in Jerusalem was driven by high emotion. I don’t think it happened with malice aforethought . . . or on the basis of reason.”
Stanwick frowned, wishing that Jon had provided an answer less congenial to the plaintiff. Jon sensed as much, so he added, “Theological opinions differ dramatically. Martin Luther used to speak of the rabies theologorum—the madness of theologians. Passionately argued differences over the Bible and its interpretations come with the territory, whether in the sixteenth century or the twenty-first. Suing for libel and defamation just isn’t in the picture when you do theology.”
Stanwick smiled and turned Jon over to Pomeroy for cross-examination.
“First,” said Pomeroy, “Ah should like to remind the court that the Israeli justice system was open to Professor Weber if he felt that mah client’s statements in Jerusalem constituted libel. Clearly he did not, since he did not bring suit. Therefore, Ah would ask the jury not even to consider this evidence and move that it be stricken from the record.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Stanwick interposed. “The evidence is indeed very relevant to this case.”
“Sustained. Please continue.”
Ambling over to Jon, Pomeroy bent down and asked, “Among those who champion biblical prophecy, Professor Weber, who is the theologian you least respect?”
“Your Honor, I object,” said Stanwick, jumping to his feet. “The prosecution is on a fishing expedition, and this question has no value for this case.”
Judge Parker frowned, thought for a moment, then replied, “Objection overruled. Knowing the mind of the defendant may indeed be important to this case. Please continue.”
Again Pomeroy pressed his question. Stanwick was about to advise Jon, but he replied, “Among the prophecy advocates, only Dr. Merton has attacked me publicly, so it might be thought that he is my ‘least respected’ candidate. But I’m alarmed that not only Dr. Merton but all those cited in the magazine article in question have warped biblical views of the future in serious detriment to the Christian faith. Besides their publications, many of them have radio and television programs as well as video and motion-picture production facilities. Consequently many, if not most, non-Christians assume that their bizarre interpretations of biblical prophecy are the norm for our faith, and they are not!”
And so it went on for several more days of a sweltering September trial deep inside the concrete canyons of New York City. The defense presented a parallel precedent in the case of Sharon v. Time, Inc., the litigation Jon had suggested as ammunition for their side.
An entire day was spent on the question of whether or not Merton was a public enough figure to prevent his suing for libel. Pomeroy seemed to backtrack on his opening claims of mass support for Merton’s ministry. Now he recast Merton as a solitary seer “strugglin’ to be heard in a cacophony of cynicism from Ivy League scholahs.”
Stanwick quickly shot back, “Anyone who can attract one hundred thousand followers to a mass meeting in Jerusalem is certainly quite famous, quite public!”
Finally came the day for summations. Harrison Pomeroy pulled out all his rhetorical stops, portraying Merton as a courageous “voice cryin’ in the wilderness,” a modern-day John the Baptist heralding the imminent return of Jesus Christ. “And just as Noah of old was spurned by his contemporaries when he warned of the approachin’ flood”—here Pomeroy flashed a look of incandescent disdain at Jon—“so Melvin Morris Merton is spurned by
those who teach in our citadels of unbelief and godless universities today. But the deluge came all the same! Even so Jesus Christ will return, and soon!” After further discourse that castigated the media for “besmirching the reputations of innocent individuals,” Pomeroy shook his head sadly and sat down, wiping his brow.
Stanwick stood up, walked over to the jury box, and defended Jon’s opinions and the ethics of the editorial and legal staff at Newsweek. He asked the jury not to “bury our sacred doctrines of the freedom of speech and the freedom of the press.”
Judge Parker gave his traditional instructions to the jury, adding, “Because of the wide interest in this case, and to avoid any possible intrusion into your privacy, I shall now order that you be sequestered until a decision is reached. If you have any questions regarding this case in the course of your deliberations, please write them down and hand them to the bailiff, who will deliver them to my office.”
As the jury filed out of the courtroom, Jon and Kenneth Woodward joined in thanking Stanwick and his staff for their conduct of the defense. “It looks rather good for our side,” said Stanwick softly. “No promises, of course, but I look for a quick decision.”
Since it was midafternoon, they went out for some refreshment and then returned in case there was an early verdict. At six o’clock, however, they left again for a bite to eat, returning to the court at seven-thirty.
Two hours later, there was still no decision. The jury foreman, in fact, asked for clarification on several points in the instructions from the judge, who sent his replies through the bailiff.
The night wore on. At eleven o’clock both the plaintiff and the defense called it a day and returned to their respective hotels. Jon had difficulty falling asleep. A quick decision by the jury should have gone in their favor, but this was no quick decision. Inevitably, his thoughts turned to the worst-case scenario. If found liable for damages, they would certainly appeal, and perhaps appeal as often as necessary. But that prospect demanded far more time, effort, and expense than he cared to think about.
And what if, in the worst of all cases, they were found liable on all appeals? He had not even discussed with Newsweek what his share of the damages would be. Probably in the low millions, he thought, in which case he should probably buy a book or two on bankruptcy law.
The next morning, both parties in the case returned to court along with a throng of media reporters and again awaited the jury’s verdict. Hours passed, but still there was no verdict. Lunchtime came and went: no decision. The afternoon wore on. Jon and the defense speculated over what the jury could possibly be discussing. At 4:15 P.M. the clerk of the court summoned both sides to return to the courtroom. Again there was the drama of Judge Parker calling the court into session and warning the media crowd to make less noise. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” the judge intoned, “have you reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor,” said the foreman, a slender, balding high school coach from the Bronx.
“The clerk will deliver the written decision to the bench,” said Parker. This done, the judge unfolded the piece of paper, nodded, and asked the foreman to announce the jury’s decision.
“We, the members of the jury, find the defendants . . . not liable for alleged defamation in this case, and find no basis for an award of monetary damages against them,” said the foreman, with some emphasis and a slight smile.
“So say you?” asked Parker. “So say you all?”
Members of the jury nodded.
“Do you wish members of the jury polled?” Parker asked the plaintiff.
Pomeroy stood up to reply in the affirmative, but Merton shook his head and restrained him. Just as in the movies, reporters and media stringers jumped up and fled the courtroom as if it were ablaze. Waves of elation splashed over the defense. Jon embraced Stanwick, Woodward, and his legal staff. Or did they embrace him? No matter. At the plaintiff’s table, however, Pomeroy was trying to console Merton, who sat in woebegone silence. Finally he groaned, “I think we should appeal.”
Pomeroy patted the broad shoulders of his client and said, “Yes, Ah suppose we could appeal, Dr. Merton, since the defense can’t claim double jeopardy, as they could in a criminal trial. But Ah do believe it would be a waste of time and money.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, our case was tried before a jury, and a court of appeals rarely reverses a jury decision in civil cases. Ah’m . . . very sorry, good doctor. Ah certainly tried.”
It was only later that Jon learned why the jury had taken so long. Very early in their deliberations, all but one juror had voted for acquittal. The exception was a slender, aging blonde from Queens who operated a beauty shop and faithfully contributed to several television prophecy programs—a fact that she had carefully concealed during jury selection. The other members of the jury had spent hours trying to convince her, but she would not give in. Finally, when they threatened to expose her deceit and recited the penalties that would follow, she quickly changed her mind.
The nation’s legal system, for all its problems, had succeeded. Freedom of speech and freedom of the press were alive and well in the United States of America. No one was more grateful than Jonathan P. Weber.
THREE
For the next two weeks in October, Jon fielded a happy flurry of congratulatory messages arriving from far and wide. His father called from Hannibal with the cheery advice, “Glad I didn’t have to bail you out of debtors’ prison, Son! But try not to get sued again, okay?” Merton’s followers sent the expected bundle of nasty messages— he had organized a letter-writing campaign against Jon—and these focused on the predictable theme: “Just you wait, scoffer— God will prove Dr. Merton right!” Yet most of the responses expressed gratitude that Jon had done his part to safeguard the freedoms of speech and press.
But suddenly the climate changed; it seemed that Melvin Morris Merton might have the last laugh after all.
An extraordinary cyber event hit all computers that happened to be on-line at the time. It was not the effect of a virus cooked up by some deranged hacker, aiming to destroy the data on computer hard disks like the notorious “Love Bug” that caused billions of dollars in damage in the year 2000. Nor was it an insidious worm that tunneled into servers and computers like “Code Red” the following year, infecting others on the mailing list of each computer and morphing into even more deadly versions that replicated themselves.
This phenomenon was entirely different in two ways. First, whereas in previous cyber incursions only some fraction of the world’s computers were infected, this time, incredibly, all computers on-line at the time were hit. And second, this cyberevent seemed to be entirely benign. All it did was to overlay an extraordinary bulletin on computer screens—much like the always intrusive pop-up messages—no matter what program was running at the time. Majestic trumpet flourishes heralded a rich background of shimmering magenta that filled the screen, over which the following message scrolled slowly in gleaming silver lettering:
JESUS OF NAZARETH IS RETURNING!
PREPARE FOR HIS ARRIVAL!
After two minutes of scrolling in a continuous loop, the message disappeared, and all the world’s affected computers returned to the programs they were running before the incursion.
Jon himself was on-line at the time and saw the announcement, but he assumed it was only a local phenomenon. After it had vanished from his screen, he e-mailed Shannon what he had seen. To his astonishment, she replied that she had seen the same thing at the same time, though with this difference: in Israel, a Hebrew version had preceded an English translation.
Jon passed it off as a shrewd hacker’s outlandish practical joke, or perhaps a sophisticated production by prophecy-loving computer nerds, maybe working for Merton and providing him a face-saving gesture to help restore his reputation. Whatever. The world was full of cyberanomalies; it was nothing to be concerned about.
Watching television that evening at his home in suburban Weston, however, Jon f
ound NBC Nightly News opening with a story on “The Phantom Prophecy.” Tom Brokaw reported that the baffling bulletin had hit computers not just in the United States and Israel—obvious targets for American-style prophecy zealots—but computers throughout the world. Even more astounding, the bulletin appeared in French in France, German in Germany, Russian in Russia, and so on, using the vernacular for the twenty most spoken languages across the globe. As if optimally timed to reach a maximum audience, it appeared during the waking hours in the Israel-to-Hawaii hemisphere and twelve hours later in the other half of the globe.
Brokaw interviewed American Internet authorities, but they were at a loss to explain how the global phenomenon could have happened. They planned, however, to investigate immediately and trace down the source, along with their colleagues overseas.
Jon’s phone started ringing incessantly. Media religion editors and the wire services wanted to know his take on the “Jesus Bulletin,” as it came to be known. CBS pleaded with him for on-camera comment via its Boston affiliate, but to all such inquiries Jon simply replied, “I know nothing more about this than you do— in fact, probably less. It’s really a high-tech problem for the web people. They’re the ones you should be interviewing.”
“But could the message be genuine?” someone asked.
Jon paused, smiled, and replied, “I really can’t tell you how much I doubt that!”
Exactly twenty-four hours later, the same cyberphenomenon appeared again. This time the Jesus Bulletin had a background of fluorescent royal purple, with golden lettering even more dazzling than before. A whole chorus of trumpets continued the previous musical theme with a glorious augmentation. Those on-line at the time sat spellbound in front of their computer screens.
Cyber sleuths in both hemispheres were appalled that no one had thought to engage special equipment to track another such message, were it to occur. After the next twenty-four hours of frenzied preparation, however, they were ready in case of a third.