HOW SHE SEES IT Keep the security, hold the attitude

By MOLLY SELVIN
LOS ANGELES TIMES
Recently in Washington, D.C., I met our nation's enemies -- and they, apparently, are us.
I was in town for a weeklong journalism seminar, and one of the highlights of the program was the chance to observe the U.S. Supreme Court. Our group of 32 reporters mustered early in the morning, anticipating the usual gantlet of metal detectors and photo ID checks. But that was just the beginning.
Once inside, our status as would-be enemy combatants became clear: Gun-toting security officers parked us in a marble corridor outside a staff snack bar. With the same glare I've seen on sheriff's deputies moving blue-suited inmates at the county jail, they repeatedly threatened to eject us if we talked, let alone moved.
The guards allowed a few women in our group to walk down a short hall to a restroom. But so pervasive is Washington, D.C.'s post-9/11 fear that they granted our request warily and only after much discussion among themselves. Heading back, one woman paused to read the short biographical plaque underneath one of the majestic color portraits of former justices that line the corridor walls. "No!" shouted a guard who saw her. "You may not stop!"
After almost an hour, guards seated us in the courtroom, along with lawyers who had business before the justices that day and tourists who had waited hours for a spot in the gallery.
At 10 a.m. on the button, a gavel cracked and to the marshal's traditional chant of "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!" Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist and his eight colleagues appeared from behind a curtain and briskly took their seats.
During the hourlong argument in a case alleging a drug patent infringement, grim-faced guards stood in the center aisles of the packed courtroom scanning the audience, their earpieces plugged in. Their scowls ensured the silence and their darting glances were meant to intimidate. Instead, I felt increasingly angry that those who act in my name so obviously would rather I not try to visit institutions supposed to be public.
Hunkered-down fortress
The Department of Justice, our stop the next day, was even more of a hunkered-down fortress. The security guards barked louder, their guns were bigger, and instead of walking through a metal detector we were sealed one by one into a small detection booth. Waiting for a green light and the doors to slide open, I wondered whether I would pass into the lobby or be delivered to FBI agents as a "person of interest."
Inside, the two Justice officials who addressed our group were hardly more welcoming, squashing most questions about the department's domestic spying activities since 9/11 with a brusque "no comment."
And we were considered VIP guests. Our group had reservations and arrangements to hear speakers. Just try dropping in at the Justice Department unannounced.
The message at both institutions couldn't be clearer: Our leaders fear ordinary Americans, resent their presence at agencies that act in their name and -- to a degree unprecedented -- are bent on keeping us out.
Yes, the terror threat is real and yes, in California, for example, it's hard to appreciate just how vulnerable people in Washington feel. As we waited for our group to clear the Justice Department's security, one of our minders recalled seeing the plane that hit the Pentagon pass overhead during his drive to work, flying so low he saw the rivets on its underbelly. Recent violence directed at federal judges and veiled threats by Republican extremists against judges who don't agree with them have also fanned long-standing fears among judges nationally.
Yet courts and other federal agencies do themselves no favors with the hostile attitude now routine in Washington, D.C. These institutions don't just belong to the staffers with ID tags dangling from their necks. For one thing, courts need citizens willing to serve as jurors. But as we're scolded, herded and threatened, those who govern increasingly set themselves against those of us who are governed.
So go ahead, wand me, rifle through my purse and demand to see my driver's license. But how hard is it to smile, say "hello" and "welcome," and even let us look at the portraits on the wall?
For one thing, millions of us mailed checks east last month -- with lots of zeros.
X Selvin is an editorial writer for the Los Angeles Times.