299 Days: The Preparation by Glen Tate Page A

the left side of the gun,” Grant said. “It is impossible to click off the safety on the left side with your left hand. A person’s left thumb can’t get over the frame of the gun to click it off. It can only be done with your right hand.” He demonstrated with his hand.
    The gunman could not have used that gun with his left hand.
    Either the witness was lying or that gun wasn’t the one used in the crime. Regardless, that was a reasonable doubt and it meant that his client would not be convicted.
    Grant was so proud of himself. An innocent man was set free in this mock trial. Grant, the hillbilly from Forks, had outsmarted all the smart people from places like Bellevue. All because Grant had actually shot guns and knew that you could only use your right thumb to click off the safety on a Smith and Wesson semiauto.
    The professor thought about it and agreed that the defendant was innocent. Grant expected a discussion about how important it was to review the evidence and to think on your feet. However, what came next shocked Grant.
    “What are some reasons why handguns should be banned?” the professor asked the class. What?
    A discussion of gun control—a one-sided discussion of the entire class versus Grant—went on for the rest of class. No one said, “Hey, Grant, way to go on solving the mystery. Glad your life experience led to an innocent man not going to prison.”
    Grant could not believe it. What a bunch of impractical pricks.
    That about summed up his view of law students.
    There was one exception—Bill Owens. Grant first noticed him because he heard something from him that no one else had at the UW Law School: a Southern accent. Grant got to know him and found out he was an Army officer attending law school part-time. Military and from Texas—two cool points in Grant’s book. But, they were two definitely uncool points in the book of everyone else at the University of Washington Law School.
    Bill Owens was the only friend Grant had in law school. They hung out a lot because, well, they were the only ones who would hang out with hillbillies like them.
    Bill and Grant were different than most students in another way: they worked. Bill was in the Army full time. Grant worked at the state Attorney General’s Office all during law school. Good résumé material. It was part of his plan to be a successful lawyer; to be the exact opposite of the Forks loser. Grant worked about twenty hours a week and had a full course load. He was used to it. In fact, not working would have seemed weird to him. He learned a lot of practical skills as a law clerk at the Attorney General’s Office. He was learning how a government agency made decisions and what motivated them.
    Grant’s favorite class, in one sense, was Constitutional Law. He loved the Constitution. What a magnificent and brilliant document. He didn’t know why, but he innately understood the Constitution. It made absolute sense to him.
    But Constitutional Law was taught by a socialist; a female professor who really seemed to hate men, especially men who disagreed with her. God forbid someone challenge her; that would lead to viciousness as Bill found out one day.
    “Mr. Owens,” the professor said in a condescending tone, “please describe the holding in City of Richmond v. J. A. Croson Co.”
    This was a case that held that reverse discrimination—in that case, a mostly black city council passing an ordinance giving racial preferences to minorities based on past racial discrimination—was unconstitutional. It seemed that a group of black politicians was enriching some black-owned businesses. White politicians had been doing the same for white-owned businesses for years, but that didn’t make it right. Racism was racism.
    Bill explained in a matter-of-fact tone, “Croson held that racial preferences based on past discrimination can instead be unconstitutional race discrimination when there is evidence that past racial discrimination is no longer