Wells came to her expertise concerning government secrecy in a roundabout manner. As an undergraduate at the University of Kansas (her hometown is Winfield), she loved studying chemistry; coming from a family of physicians, she had long thought of it as part of her pre-med planning. But Wells also felt the pull of environmentalism. When the time came to consider graduate study, she decided environmental law might be the perfect way to bridge her two interests. A few months later she enrolled at the prestigious University of Chicago Law School.

Her plans changed again when, in law school, she found herself drawn to constitutional law. Unfortunately, Wells says, finding a job as a constitutional lawyer fresh out of law school is almost unheard of. "So I joined a big law firm like so many graduates do."

Joining such a firm meant specializing in business litigation at law offices in Chicago and Los Angeles. Wells, however, was unhappy in private practice, partly because the strictly enforced hierarchy of law firms felt repressive. So Wells decided to seek a teaching position. The opportunity arrived when Wells' husband, chemistry scholar Kent Gates, received an offer to join the MU faculty. In 1993, Gates and Wells moved to Columbia, each a new faculty member.

"Constitutional law is so fundamental," Wells says, "as is chemistry within the field of science." She joined the MU law faculty to teach courses focusing on freedom of speech, the administrative function of government, gender issues and remedies. At MU, Wells' research into the subterranean world of government secrecy is notable for more than its candor. She combines legal scholarship, historical context and suggestions for reform into a seamless whole. Wells is not naïve: She recognizes that government officials are often justified in withholding information from the public, especially during wartime. But such secrecy, she argues, has a way of insinuating itself into the nation's body politic. If not well regulated, information suppression quickly becomes a tool of autocratic governance, a convenient means of suppressing legitimate inquiries. This is especially true in times of crisis.

The U.S. Congress sought to provide such regulation in 1966. That year, Congress codified the legitimate reasons information could be withheld by executive branch personnel, saying the presumption of openness should prevail. The law they passed, known as the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) not only established a process by which citizens could request official documents, but also demanded that the custodians of those documents either release them in a timely manner or explain why not.

The law works well some of the time, depending on the information requested and the government agency involved. It comes up short, Wells says, when officials say a request would compromise national security. The conundrum is obvious -- if information is classified as off- limits because of national security, how is the citizen seeking the documents to determine whether they are being withheld legitimately? An impartial judge could make the determination if the citizen sues her own government. But, as Wells' research demonstrates, "judicial reluctance to question executive officials' invocation of the Freedom of Information Act exemption has rendered FOIA only marginally effective in battling government withholding of information in the name of national security."