The scene at Georgetown University Law Center at the beginning of the book was inspired by an annual event held by the Law Center’s Supreme Court Institute in which members of the Bar gather to celebrate the end of the term. Every year, the Institute, headed by Director Dori Bernstein and Professor Irv Gornstein, holds moot courts (practice arguments) for advocates appearing before the high court. It is a tremendous service to the advocates and the justices, and I’m proud to periodically serve as a moot judge. The 2012 event honored Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, an opera lover, and singers from the Washington National Opera serenaded the popular justice. It was beautiful and stuck with me, hence the scene.
Much of the information about the Supreme Court in The Advocate’s Daughter was inspired by or derived from not only my law practice, but the great work of many esteemed journalists and commentators. I continue to draw from Jeffrey Toobin’s fun, readable books about the court. (The prank Sean Serrat played on Professor Tweed about the fake call from the president was from a real event involving Chief Justice John Roberts from Toobin’s The Oath. So was the “do-over” reference concerning Obama’s botched oath of office.) And, like the rest of the world, I benefited from the coverage of the high court by the Supreme Court press corps, including Robert Barnes, Joan Biskupic, Marcia Coyle, Adam Liptak, Tony Mauro, David Savage, Nina Totenberg, and others. I’m always amazed at the quality and insights of their coverage, which often must be done under intense deadlines. And I cannot forget SCOTUSblog, everyone’s go-to source for information on the high court.
I’ve been to all the places depicted in the book, and did my best to try to make them feel authentic. With respect to the Supreme Court Building, I’d encourage all readers who visit Washington to march up the forty-four marble front steps (you can no longer enter from the front doors for security reasons, but it’s still an experience). And it’s worth the wait in line to attend an oral argument. Not to be overly sentimental, but, for me, watching how our country resolves some of the biggest questions of the day in a civilized way, under the rule of law, without violence, dampens the cynicism that might otherwise sneak in from living in Washington.
The court’s library is as majestic as I describe, though I made up the secret staircase, I’m sorry to say. I’ve been fortunate enough to step inside the conference room where the justices preside in secret, and did my best to describe it. And there is a basketball court on the top floor of the building—the real “highest court in the land,” so goes the tired joke.
My scenes on the Hill I credit to the time my friend, and a senate chief of staff, Mike Sozan, has taken over the years to show me and my writer friends around, including the underground train and hideaway offices. And I’m lucky to know Brian Hook, the former special assistant to the president and assistant secretary of state, who is always a reliable source for Washington insights (and like me and Ryan, a connoisseur of eighties metal).
There is a Chipotle in Bethesda, Maryland, and Bethesda–Chevy Chase High School is a real school. Neither, of course, are frequented by a hapless, sketchy drug dealer. I hope they will forgive me.
Beyond the setting of the novel, the law school lecture Professor Tweed gives his students about James Callender will be familiar to law students I’ve taught over the years. The information on Callender, to the best of my ability, is accurate.
Some of the humor (or attempts at humor, anyway) in the novel come from real events. Like Ryan, my son Jake nearly fell asleep during a visit with a Supreme Court justice. And Jack’s orange juice joke was taken from a funny article in Salon by Professor Jay Wexler about his time as a Supreme Court law clerk.
The speech Sean gives about his daughter on the front steps of his home was inspired in part by a high school commencement speech given by English teacher David McCullough, Jr., entitled “You Are Not Special.” I think the Serrats would share the same worldview as McCullough.
Capturing the grief of the characters was a challenge. I read several books about loss, but one that stayed with me was When the Bough Breaks, which contains many heartbreaking first-person narratives of grieving parents.
Many of the other insights about the court or Washington were the result of phone calls, meetings, and lunches with many serious people who took time to help me try to bring an air of authenticity to The Advocate’s Daughter. All errors—purposeful or otherwise—are my own.