Democrats who are challenging the law say it uses prevention of fraud as a pretext to discourage elderly, poor and minority voters — those most likely to lack proper ID and who tend to vote for Democrats.

Opponents say there have been no Indiana prosecutions of in-person voter fraud — the kind the law is supposed to prevent.

A federal judge who upheld the voter ID law pointed out that opponents were unable to produce evidence of a single, individual Indiana resident who had been barred from voting because of the law.

Courts have upheld voter ID laws in Arizona, Georgia and Michigan, but struck down Missouri's. Wednesday's case should be decided by late June, in time for the November 2008 elections.

The justices could use the case to instruct courts on how to weigh claims of voter fraud versus those of disenfranchisement.

The Supreme Court was bitterly divided, 5-4, in 2000 in Bush v. Gore, the case that clinched the presidential election for George W. Bush.

The consolidated cases are Crawford v. Marion County Election Board, 07-21, and Indiana Democratic Party v. Rokita, 07-25.

In a 7-2 ruling, the justices said Metamora-based John R. Sand & Gravel Co. waited too long to sue the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency for property it seized as a Superfund cleanup site.

Justice Stephen Breyer said a federal appeals court was correct in raising the deadline question without being asked to do so by either party, and to rule that the company missed the deadline.

In some instances, such as lawsuits against the government, the Supreme Court "has often read the time limits ... as more absolute," Breyer wrote.

Justice John Paul Stevens dissented, saying the majority's decision "has a hollow ring" because the court previously had overturned a precedent that it relied on for Tuesday's decision.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg joined Stevens in dissent.

"We're very disappointed in this ruling," said Jeff Haynes, a Bloomfield Hills attorney who represented the gravel company.

The decision ends the company's chances to collect any compensation from the EPA and will prompt other claimants to sue "early and often" to avoid a similar fate, Haynes said.

John R. sued the EPA in 2002 after the agency permanently fenced off 40 acres of land the company was leasing from a property owner.

Some of the seized property had been used as a municipal dump until about 1980 and was considered a hazardous waste site, although a portion contained clean sand and gravel, Haynes said.

The case initially was filed in the U.S. Court of Federal Claims, which hears claims involving the taking of private property without fair compensation.

The high court reviewed an appeal panel's finding that the John R. suit was barred by the six-year statue of limitations.

The EPA originally agreed that the case had been filed in a timely manner and didn't raise the statute of limitations issue, Haynes said.

But companies hired to clean up landfills intervened as friends of the court and raised the jurisdictional question, he said.

The appeals panel and the Supreme Court held that the clock started running when the EPA began erecting a series of temporary fences -- not when it permanently seized the 40 acres, Haynes said.

The effect of the high court's ruling is that judges at each step in the process will have to rule on time-limit issues in cases brought for money damages against the government, he said.

And anyone who wants to sue the federal government for taking private property without compensation will have to bring their claim as early as possible or risk having it tossed out, he said.

"We'll have a lot more needless lawsuits because property owners are going to have to protect their rights," Haynes said.

The Supreme Court didn't consider whether John R. was entitled to compensation by the EPA.

Haynes said the company valued the confiscated land at $8 million, while the EPA valued it at $250,000.

The main problem, the court was told, is the second drug in the sequence, which paralyzes the muscles. If the inmate is not properly anesthetized, the paralytic could mask whether the condemned is in tortuous pain.

Justice John Paul Stevens said he was "deeply troubled" by the use of the second drug, but that there was nothing in the record in the Kentucky case that raised the issue in a way for the Supreme Court to make a definitive ruling. Kentucky, he said, seemed to have done a good job of administering the drugs in the state's only execution by lethal injection.

Justices David Souter and Stephen Breyer also said it might be better to send the case back to lower courts for a comparative analysis of whether the three-drug process carries more risk than an alternative, which uses only a massive dose of a barbiturate.

McCollum said he is asking a federal judge to quickly hold a hearing on a lawsuit he filed last month to keep the agreement from going into effect until the Florida Supreme Court decides whether Crist was authorized to sign the compact without legislative approval.

The agreement allows Las Vegas-style slots and card games like blackjack and baccarat at the Seminole's seven casinos. The state would get $50 million immediately and $100 million guaranteed in the first year. In the second year, the state is guaranteed $125 million and at least $150 million in the third year. Following that, the amount depends on revenues - but everyone involved in the negotiations said it will quickly add up to billions.

Without the compact, the tribe would have at least been able to install Las Vegas style slots without paying any money to the state because the Florida approved slots at Broward County jai-alai frontons and horse and dog tracks.

Crist signed the compact in November. House Speaker Marco Rubio and Senate President Ken Pruitt are challenging Crist's authority to enter into the agreement on his own and the Supreme Court plans a hearing on the case Jan. 30.

David Barron, 29, filed an appeal on behalf of two Kentucky death row inmates, arguing that the three-drug cocktail used in lethal injections across the country can cause excruciating pain, and thus amounts to cruel and unusual punishment in violation of the Eighth Amendment to the Constitution.

After three years of long hours on Barron's part, the Supreme Court agreed to hear arguments in the case on Jan. 7.

"I can't believe I've got a case before the Supreme Court and I'm not even 30 years old," Barron said.

This is the first time in more than a century that the high court will address the legality of a method of execution. Thirty-six states use lethal injection, and executions across the U.S. have come to a halt in the meantime.

Barron, an assistant public defender, arrived in Kentucky in 2004, just over a year out of law school, to represent some of the worst of the worst — death row inmates. He was admitted to the Kentucky bar in July of that year, and filed his lethal-injection challenge the following September, employing a strategy he had tested out in other jurisdictions.

He was paired with John Palombi, a fellow public defender with at least a decade of experience.

The challenge was brought on behalf of convicted cop killer Ralph Baze and Thomas Clyde Bowling, who was found guilty of killing a couple. Barron lost the cruel-and-unusual argument at a trial and at the Kentucky Supreme Court. But he kept pushing the case, hoping to keep his clients alive a bit longer.

He beat long odds: The Supreme Court gets as many as 7,000 petitions a year but agrees to hear only 100 to 150 cases.

Lethal injections have come under legal attack around the country in recent years, with experts and others arguing that it is not the humane, painless method of execution it was supposed to be.

Legal experts said the Kentucky case apparently got the attention of the high court because it arrived fully developed — it went through a full-blown trial with more than 20 witnesses, who argued both sides of the question of whether inmates suffer extreme pain while immobilized, unable to cry out.

Death penalty proponent Kent Scheidegger, legal director of the Criminal Justice Legal Foundation, said the case gives the Supreme Court "a clear shot at the merits of the injection question."

"The trial court took extensive testimony, building a substantial record. That makes a better case for review than one decided summarily in the trial court," Scheidegger said.

The challenge is the ninth case the Kentucky's public defenders have gotten before the high court in the past three decades. Among the others was the landmark 1986 ruling Batson v. Kentucky, in which the Supreme Court found it unconstitutional to dismiss a juror because of his race.

Barron works in the public defender's capital post-conviction unit, a corps of 10 attorneys who handle appeals for Kentucky's 38 death row inmates.

The unit's chief is the only one who has ever argued a case before the U.S. Supreme Court. In fact, for this case, the public defender's office is bringing in Donald Verrilli, a Washington lawyer who frequently appears before the high court, to argue the challenge.

Such a move is not uncommon. Only those who are admitted to the bar of the Supreme Court can argue before the justices.

The shaggy-haired Barron — a Billerica, Mass., native who received a law degree from Brooklyn Law School in 2003 — can be found in his office at nearly all hours. His office is about the size of a walk-in closet and is so cluttered that Barron must move boxes and books for visitors to sit down.

Barron is a hardcore Boston Red Sox fan, papering his office door with pictures and headlines. He draws professional hope from the way the Red Sox finally won the World Series after 86 years of futility.

"There's something to be said about representing the people who society casts aside," Barron said. "They are the ones often left to fend for themselves."

Public defenders work one of the lowest rungs of the legal profession, one that is often not very highly regarded by other lawyers. Many young lawyers right out of law school often get their start as public defenders, and often race from case to case with barely enough time to read the file, much less do the in-depth investigation attorneys in private practice can do.

Public defenders have traditionally received little funding, particularly in the South. Kentucky has one of the lowest-funded offices in the country.

The starting pay for most Kentucky's public defenders is about $38,000 a year.

Kentucky spends about $33.5 million in 2005 (the last year for which numbers were available) on a population of 4.1 million. That's about $8.14 per person for public defense — 23rd among the 30 state-run public defender offices nationally. Oregon leads the nation at $23.75 spent per person.

"It's an uphill battle," said Ernie Lewis, head of the Kentucky Department of Public Advocacy. "We can't provide an O.J. defense."