By Gene Nichol

It’s hard to imagine a stouter rebuke to Jefferson Griffin and the North Carolina Supreme Court than that delivered by federal district judge Richard Myers.

“This case (asks) whether the federal Constitution permits a state to alter the rules of an election after the fact and apply those changes retroactively to only a select group of voters.”

The answer, Myers wrote, “is no.” He continued:

“The principle that the legal effect of conduct should ordinarily be assessed under the law that exists when the conduct took place has timeless and universal human appeal. That principle will be familiar to anyone who has played a sport or a board game. You establish the rules before the game. You don’t change them after the game is done.”

It is hard to believe such straightforward standards were beyond the comprehension of the Republican majority of the N.C. Supreme Court. What was missing was the belief that they are required to comply with rules at all.

To the surprise of many, Griffin finally conceded the election after the Myers’ ruling. Griffin explained:

“This effort has always been about upholding the rule of law and making sure that every legal vote is counted.”

Dishonest to the last.

North Carolina has learned much from the iniquitous Griffin lawsuit.

First, and most obvious, in the United States, it can sometimes take the judicial review of an independent federal court to strike down the intentional constitutional transgressions of a lawless, captive, politically corrupted state supreme court.

Second, and less obvious, but still powerfully true, North Carolinians have learned, right before their eyes, what a remarkable, courageous, resilient and un-exhaustible public servant Allison Riggs is. She has, it’s true, spent her entire professional life fighting for democracy. But never on such a singular stage and at such extraordinary stakes. She was an exceedingly strong judicial candidate from the first. But without Griffin’s venality we wouldn’t have seen Riggs’ steely heroism. Now we know something of what we’ve got.

Third, we’ve also been required to look the four-person Republican majority of the North Carolina Supreme Court in the face. We know, with absolute certainty, what we have there now as well. Four people — Newby, Berger, Barringer and Allen — who acted, they didn’t just threaten or posture, they used their state- bestowed power to literally, fraudulently and with cold calculation steal an election. They didn’t make a mistake. They willfully violated the law and their oaths of office. Their Republican colleague, Richard Dietz, explained their desecration to them calmly, clearly, without refutation. But they chose the theft anyway. They seem to believe it is in their personal interest. They don’t think the people of North Carolina deserve actual judges. Political hucksters are good enough for us. This — without the slightest doubt or peradventure — is what we face.

And fourth, we learned from every county, every courthouse square, every street-corner, every main street and every bustling downtown of North Carolina that Tar Heels won’t stand for it. I’ll confess to being in some of these agitated places, among such angered folks. I can report, as well, that the eruption was not limited to a usual cast of characters. They were Republican, Democrat, Independent and otherwise typically uninterested. They were young and old and in-between. Black, White, Brown and every shade on the spectrum. Raging grannies and their amazed (at the language) grandkids. And, of course, lots of veterans. Lots of veterans.

I’m not certain they would have prevailed without the court. But they served notice. When you come after our democracy, we ain’t rolling over. Hark the sound.

Gene Nichol is a professor of law teaching courses in the constitution and federal courts at the University of North Carolina School of Law.