This book is a tale of the Supreme Court’s most important environmental case, Massachusetts v. EPA, decided in 2007. Scholar Richard Lazarus—for 25 years this magazine’s skillful and engaging courts columnist—is an ideal person to tell the story. The Rule of Five: Making Climate Change History at the Supreme Court becomes more than a history; it is an exciting read—like a novel, with appealing characters and an ever-shifting plot.

Today a professor teaching Supreme Court advocacy at Harvard Law School, Lazarus trained at the Office of the Solicitor General, learning the preparation and presentation of High Court cases. He went on to argue environmental cases himself before the Court, representing both government and environmental groups. He even won more than a few before a bench that is largely hostile to environmental causes.

In contrast, Massachusetts v. EPA was launched by a small-town lawyer who had never studied or practiced environmental law, and of whom no one had ever heard: Joe Mendelson. His complaint alleged a single violation of the Clean Air Act’s requirements to list pollutants, in this case carbon dioxide. To the astonishment of the entire environmental law community, he won in federal district court. At this point, all the major environmental litigating organizations intervened, and literally took over the case. From then on it was in the hands of the pros.

Mendelson’s victory did not last long. The D.C. circuit reversed the trial court in a two-to-one decision. Judge David B. Sentelle held EPA had no duty to list carbon dioxide as a pollutant, while Judge A. Raymond Randolph found that the plaintiffs had not shown sufficient personal injury to be able to sue in the first place. In this odd posture, the case went up to the Supreme Court.

At this juncture a “Pistol from Minnesota” (Lazarus’s label) entered the case: Lisa Heinzerling. An honors graduate from Princeton, her credentials as a scholar, a litigator, and a superb writer were impeccable. In effect, she shaped the case. Heinzerling wrote the briefs, and developed both their focus and their arguments. She knew the case better than anyone on either side. She had every reason to believe that she would be the best choice to stand before the nine members of the Supreme Court, five of them Republican appointees with a negative record for environmental decisions. But there was a hitch, and it came from Heinzerling’s client, Massachusetts.

The state itself played a dominant role in the case. It was losing thousands of acres of shoreline. The great sand dunes of Cape Cod were being eaten away by more frequent storms, and the city of Boston, at sea level, was highly vulnerable as well. The harm that Massachusetts was experiencing provided instant and incontestable standing.

Massachusetts also had a superb attorney general’s office, and within it a highly experienced litigator. James R. Milkey also had the advantage of not appearing as a hired gun, but as a public official defending his state. What emerged was, in Lazarus’s words, a “beauty contest” between Milkey and Heinzerling. For Milkey, and perhaps for Heinzerling, the competition became “highly personal.”

Milkey then argued the case before three moot courts. He described each as having “its own level of pain.” The three moot benches included the best attorneys and judges that could be found, but they were not hostile. Nonetheless they threw questions at him that were far stronger than those he would face from the justices.

Despite Milkey’s poor showing, his competition with Heinzerling could have been a bloodbath. At which point she did an amazing thing. Within weeks of the date of argument, she sent an email to all of the attorneys assisting in the case, withdrawing from the opportunity to make the argument.

Lazarus writes of this moment with considerable compassion: “Anyone in Heinzerling’s position would have been understandably upset. She had extraordinary academic credentials, had worked hard on the case, and had produced excellent work, only to be labeled too inexperienced.”

When he came before the Supreme Court, Milkey rose to the occasion. “Standing before the actual justices,” Lazarus writes, “Milkey clicked into high gear. The failed moot courts were history.” Milkey opened with two introductory sentences of 38 words that simply said what he was about to argue, and got no farther. In Lazarus’s words, “Scalia pounced.”

“When is the predicted cataclysm?” Scalia asked, clearly mocking the notion. He then suggested that there was no consensus on how much of it was attributable to human activity. Or attributable to the United States, or to auto emissions within the United States. Then he asserted that the “catastrophe” was not “right now,” which of course would defeat the immediacy necessary for standing. Finally, Scalia stated that carbon dioxide could not be lawfully regulated because emissions rise to the “stratosphere.” Milkey politely interjected that the word is “troposphere.”

From here on out it was all downhill sledding for Milkey. Justices Roberts, Thomas, and Alito could not touch him, except for indicating that they didn’t like his argument or perhaps the whole notion of climate change. There were clearly four votes to uphold the Court of Appeals. Then came Justice Kennedy.

Milkey’s entire argument was pitched to Kennedy, who had a firm preference for state authority and state remedies. The Supreme Court had supported this authority in a 1922 case called Tennessee Copper. Here was Massachusetts, which was suffering great harm from climate change, but with no ability to do anything about it. This would swing Kennedy and win the case.

After the hearing, the justices drafted their opinions. The dissents were longer than the majority opinion favoring the petitioner. According to Scalia, there was no standing. Climate change was not imminent, nor had any harm yet occurred, nor was the United States a significant part of it. Every criterion of the (largely Court-invented) doctrine of standing—causation, harm, imminent harm, and remedy—was lacking. Case closed.

Chief Justice Robert’s dissent went to the other half of the case. Even if the plaintiff had standing, they could not compel EPA regulation. The Clean Air Act required EPA to regulate six “criteria pollutants,” but carbon dioxide was not one of them. EPA had no authority to regulate CO₂ emissions even if it wanted to.

The case unfolded within a maelstrom of media coverage, editorials, and more than fifty briefs of amicus curiae written in support of both sides, so that in effect they neutered themselves. Despite the storm, the litigation boiled down to two dominant players on the side of Massachusetts: Milkey and Heinzerling.

As seen above, each of the two—rivals until the very end for the honor of arguing the case before the court—brought a great deal to the case. Milkey, an experienced litigator, flopped in three moot court performances before three different panels of judges. But when game time arrived he came suited up and ready to play. According to Lazarus’s book, he emerged a star, debating the likes of Scalia and Roberts to a standstill.

Heinzerling, for her part, did virtually all the spade-work on the case. As Lazarus also describes, she succeeded in arguing for a single brief in order to keep the issues focused; then wrote a powerful brief; then developed the strategy in tandem with others involved to focus—not on the issue of climate change at all—but rather on Kennedy and his penchant for the rights of states. This focus gave Milkey a strong advantage before the swing justice.

In the end, for all of their competition over oral argument, these two lawyers became the Dynamic Duo. It is more than possible that this case could never have been won without the two of them, working together.

And so, Massachusetts v. EPA closed with a double-bang, a ringing victory on standing to sue, and a virtual command to abate climate change. Whether either of these two victories will endure is an open question. The abatement was of course stymied by President Trump, who even denied that climate change was happening. The Congress has been no more successful, although its failure to move can be attributed to the steadfast opposition of one coal-state senator.

Which leaves the Supreme Court. It is, however, no longer balanced between five Republican-appointed justices and four Democratic-appointed justices. It is now dominated by six Republican appointees, a virtual guarantee that the liberal standing to sue of Massachusetts will be replaced with something more like the can’t-get-to-court-no-matter-how-hard-you-try of Scalia’s dissent.

Nor is this Court likely to support the abatement of climate change. Nothing it has yet decided even smells of its favor on this issue. The current test case on climate change is that of the children’s suit, Juliana v. United States. It has been to the High Court two times with remands, in each case, virtually ordering the courts below to kill the case altogether.

The best one can do now is to hope, and to hope that hope will suffice. And so this review ends, with the uncertainty that accompanies almost all difficult things in life.

This is my last review for the Forum. After many years, and many reviews, I have not only found the books I reviewed enjoyable to read, but also found them useful citations and jumping-off-points for more extensive articles. I have even assigned them as readings in my classes. Now it is time to step away from this small stage. It has been a wonderful run.

Oliver A. Houck is professor of law and David Boies chair in public interest law at Tulane University.