Consequences Ch. 04

Then the feed became staticky, and cut off, followed by color-bars-and tone. A second later, Bettina was back on the air. "We seem to have lost the signal." she said. "We're working to get it back. In the meantime, to get you up to date, Jacquez Wilson, a black civil rights leader, is holed up in The Block House, surrounded by 200 peaceful demonstrators protesting Police brutality against People of Color, and... what's that?"

She was pretending to listen to her earpiece, then said "We now join KSB in progress with an important announcement."

The feed cut to a podium in some briefing room. "That's our Press briefing room at the Federal Building in the City." Jack Muscone said. A second later, Ava Hinds walked to the podium, flanked by attorney Al Kehoe and several Federal Marshals.

"Thank you for coming." said Hinds. "I am US DOJ Civil Rights Division Compliance Officer Ava Hinds. I am the lead Officer investigating the Town & County Police for institutional racism and Police brutality, and the DOJ has already brought suit against the TCPD for racism."

Hinds: "I am here to put the TCPD on notice that they are to respect the rights of Jacquez Wilson and anyone who is with him at his present location. I demand that the TCPD not resort to the tactics of Police brutality so often exercised by Mayor Daniel Allgood, Commander Donald Troy, and Lieutenant Commander Teresa Croyle."

Hinds: "I demand that Mayor Allgood and the TCPD negotiate in good faith with Mr. Wilson, and bring their standoff with him to a peaceful conclusion, with no lives of any peaceful protesters lost. The Civil Rights Division is ready to assist by mediating the negotiations."

Hinds: "I insist that the TCPD show good faith by releasing the 'Juneteenth 22' that were wrongly and unlawfully arrested and imprisoned by the TCPD. And in fair warning: any use of violence by the TCPD resulting in the deaths of peaceful protesters will be met with a strong response by the USDOJ Civil Rights Division, including further lawsuits and criminal charges. I'll be taking no questions..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"And there it is." I said.

"Just as you predicted." said Teresa. There were murmurs of agreement.

"Black lives matter, blue lives don't." I said. "I noticed she 'warned' us about any protesters dying, but said nothing about Police Officers dying, or being brutalized by those protesters---"

*BRING!* *BRING!* *BRING!* *BRING!*

It was Cindy's Police iPhone. She scowled when she looked at the caller's name, then answered: "What do you want, Ms. Hinds?... hold on one second..."

She put the phone on mute then said "It's Ava Hinds. She says she wants to know where we want to have her set up to mediate the 'dispute' (air quotes)."

"May I?" Chief Moynahan. Cindy handed him the phone and he took it off mute and said "This is Police Chief Moynahan. To whommmm am I speak-innnng?... Well, Ms. Hinds, I'll just tell you that we do not accept your offer to mediate, nor am I inclined to give any credence to your threats... oh please, they were threats and you know it... Let me just sayyyy, that we are going to bring Jacquez Wilson into Police custody for charges that include rape, aggravated assault, and attempted murder, and... again, let me be clear: I don't give a damn about you, nor anything you say... Good-bye, Ms. Hinds." He vigorously pressed the disconnect button.

"Mis-ter Crowbarrrr," said the Chief as he handed the phone back to Cindy. "Try to solve it peacefully, but let me be clear: lethal force absolutely is authorized. And make sure none of those... thugs... surrounding the Block House escape arrest. Including Lester Holderrrrr..."

"Roger that, sir." I said, getting up. "Especially Lester Holder..."

Part 21 - Confrontation

The standoff dragged on into the early evening hours. The National Media was giving non-stop coverage, using drones and helicopters to show the standoff from the air... which gave us Police some good intel to work with.

Lester Holder had sent several reports from within the Block House, but the transmissions kept being cut off. "That's not us doing that." I reported to the Chief and Sheriff.

"Damn right it's not." growled Griswold. "It's Jack Muscone and the FBI doing it."

At 6:00pm, I addressed the Police Force in the Main Auditorium: "The situation is that there are 200 protesters ringing the Block House. We're going to try to take them alive, but in any case they are preventing us from arresting Jacquez Wilson; therefore, they are aiding and abetting a wanted criminal to escape arrest. They will all be arrested, and they will all be charged with that crime. Furthermore, if anyone dies tonight, they will all be charged with first-degree murder in the commission of those felonies."

Indeed, our Intel people were doing a great job of getting good photos of the faces of the perps, every one of them... the technology law enforcement has in being able to do that is astounding... and frightening.

I continued: "We believe the Block House is wired with high-grade explosives and detcord, so we cannot and will not just walk in there. We will use CS gas to subdue and/or smoke out the suspects, then send in a robot to find the explosives. Again, do not attempt to enter the Block House..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

7:00pm. I gave a final briefing in Classroom 'E'. I had called in Jerome Davis, as well. After giving assignments, I finished up:

"BOW Enterprises is allowing us to use their emergency Command Center as a backup in case the Old Mill and Headquarters are attacked. Croyle, you and Davis will go there and monitor the situation. Captain Muscone is in tactical charge here at Headquarters. Commander Ross is helping Captain Thompson with the Media. And I'll be leaving here and going to the scene shortly."

After the meeting, Green Crowbar followed Red Crowbar into my office. "Don, what are you going to do? I mean, I don't see anything you can do but engage the ring of perps, and then Jacquez Wilson will be shooting at Police and maybe blowing up the building. So what do you really have in mind?"

I smiled as I put on my armor. "I see you've realized I have something else in mind, and you're right. Ava Hinds wants us to 'negotiate'... and that's exactly what I'm going to do..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Just before sunset, Teresa drove her SUV onto the grounds of BOW Enterprises and around to the back side of the main building. She went through the garage door, which closed behind her as she stopped.

"Let's go to the Command Room." she said. "You need to see it, so you can describe it."

"Say whaa?" asked Jerome as Todd Burke his assistant Takaki Mariko came up to them.

"Hi Jerome." said Todd. "I'm sorry about Inga."

"Thank you, sir." said Jerome.

"Tonight is retribution, if you so desire." Teresa said. They went down the elevator to the command room. "As you can see," Teresa said, "It's well-equipped to monitor what is going on."

"Wow." said Jerome. "But why do you need a place like this?"

"We used it in Commander Troy's final battle with Pastor Westboro, for one thing." Teresa replied. (Author's note: 'A Tiny Slip', Ch. 01.) Jerome nodded.

"Okay, let's go to the hangar." Teresa said. Todd and Mariko did not come with them as Teresa led Jerome down the hall and to a flight of stairs. When they went through the door, they were in the warehouse building, the one where Lt. Ivar Irwin had made the supreme sacrifice. In front of them was a small helicopter, made out of what seemed to be matte black plastic. Four small missiles were inside cylinders on either side of the device, and there were two seats that looked to be a tight fit.

"Okay, Jerome," Teresa said, "Don and I wanted you to be the one to have this chance. I'm going to pilot this baby chopper. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to fire the missiles when the time comes, and wipe out the Block House. If you don't want to go, I'll understand, and you can drive my SUV back to Headquarters. Of course, I'll have plausible deniability, as 20 BOW employees are seeing me in the Command Room or around the facility."

Jerome was hearing his father's words, about going to the Dark Side. He would be committing to killing an evil man, but also other people, all of them committed to the destruction of the Police. And for what? Their sincere belief that white Police were oppressing them, keeping them down. Their sincere belief that all whites, and especially all white cops were racist.

He remembered how his father was so committed to the cause that he was willing to completely give up his relationship with his own son. He had tried to get Jerome to leave the Police, he had been arrested protesting the Police. That was some commitment, Jerome thought.

But there was some truth in Jonathan's words. This wasn't just a Police action. This was something else. Was it Justice? Or vengeance? And would he follow Donald Troy and Teresa Croyle's paths? Down a dark rabbit hole with no clear resolution at the other end?

He could feel Teresa's eyes on him, waiting for him to decide. And one other thought entered his mind...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

9:05pm, Tuesday, June 23d. I arrived at the Command Post, which was at the 45º mark (northeast) of the circle of Police around the circle of perps. The inner line of Police had the big metal shields, and Officers were taking turns holding them up, as they were very heavy.

There were actually two circles of Police. The outer ring wasn't a well-defined circle, but was completely cutting off access to the area, and were also covering the backs of the inner ring, in case someone started shooting at us from the outside.

"Arrre yooooo readyyyy..." I said to Sheriff Griswold as we came up.

"Make it so, Number One." the Sheriff said.

"Sir," said Myron Milton, "KXTC just broadcast another interview of Jacquez Wilson by Penis Holder." We watched, hearing Jacquez Wilson exhorting his followers to kill as many white Police as possible, and to not be afraid to die in the Cause.

"Okay," I said, fishing out my Police iPhone. "Here... we... go..." I dialed a number, the number of Penis Holder's second burner phone.

"Who is this?" Holder answered.

"This is Commander Troy of the TCPD, shit eater." I said. "Come outside, so I can give you my instructions for Jacquez Wilson."

"Come give them to him yourself, Cracker." replied Holder.

"Yeah, right." I said. "In case you haven't figured it out, Holder, it's your own life in the balance, here. You're not leaving that building alive. A lot of cops out here want to shoot you as much as they want to shoot him. So if you want to live through this, you better come out and play 'middleman'."

Holder hung up, but half a minute later he came out of the Block House and through the ring of protesters. I went to the front of the Police line. Though armored, I was exposing myself to the '200 martyrs'.

Holder came up. "I only came outside to tell this to your ugly white face, Cracker. Jacquez is not going to surrender. Ever. He's not even going to talk to you until the 'Juneteenth 22' are released from jail. And these good people here? They're committed to the cause of liberating People of Color from American Police oppression."

"Nice speech." I said, holding out a piece of paper. "Take this to him."

"Eat shit and die." Holder said. He turned to go back, and I reached out with my left arm and grabbed him by the back of his jacket collar.

"What the fuck?" Holder gasped as I pulled him back. "Let go of me! You can't grab me like that!"

Still holding his collar with my left hand, I got in his face and yelled "I'll do whatever I goddamn well please to you! I'll piss in your face, right here and now, and you'll lap it up with a smile!" I slapped the piece of paper hard into his chest. "Now you take that in there and give it to Wilson. Those are my orders for him."

"You don't give him orders, you son of a bitch!" Holder yelled.

"Listen, faggot," I said, "you go in there and tell Wilson to come out and get on his knees in front of me!"

"That will be the day." Holder scoffed.

"You tell that black 'boy' that he's going to come out and go to his knees in front of my white ass!" I said, seeing that my offensive language was infuriating Holder, as I fully intended for it to. "You tell Jacquez Wilson that the entire world is going to see his black ass on his knees in front of my white ass. And I might just make him suck my white dick in front of everyone, too! You tell him that... verbatim!"

"Fucking prick." muttered Holder, holding the piece of paper as I shoved him towards the ring of protesters. Then, in a fit of pique, I went forward and kicked Holder in the ass, hard, pushing him forward. He stumbled and fell, then got back up and rushed me.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" he snarled.

"Yeah, bring it on, faggot!" I yelled as he got almost close enough for me to ram him with my crowbar. But then he caught himself, and backed off. He went through the ring of protesters. Some of them, seeing me in front of the Police line, exposed, started coming towards me. My Officers pulled me back into the safety of our lines...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I promised you, Dad, not to do the things you've done
I walk away from trouble when I can
Now please don't think I'm weak, I didn't turn the other cheek,
And papa, I sure hope you understand
Sometimes you gotta fight when you're a man."
--- Kenny Rogers, 'Coward of the County'

The 'toy' helicopter was flying 'nap-of-the-earth', barely 20 feet above the ground, following the railroad tracks south. When it got to the Block House, with the surrounding area lit up by bright lights, its pilot, Teresa Croyle, turned east to face it, and lifted the helicopter higher off the ground. No one in the crowds of hundreds heard a thing.

"Press both buttons when it locks." Teresa said. Jerome Davis had his hands on the steering wheel, which looked and felt like a gaming console. The small screen in front of him showed crosshairs moving around and a dot in the middle.

*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!*

The crosshairs locked on, and Jerome did not hesitate: he pressed the buttons. Two missiles launched, one from each side of the aircraft. The blue flames of the alcohol fuel were almost invisible and they flew unerringly towards their target...

Backstory: CIA assassins, and those of foreign services as well, send two marksmen to shoot a target if it's going to be through a window. The first shot shatters the window, and the second shot, unfettered by the window, strikes the target itself.

The missiles were similar. The first missile homing in on the transmitter inside, attached to the collar of Lester Holder's jacket, hit the roof of the Block House, exploding and opening a gaping hole. The second missile flew in and detonated inside.

*KA-BOOOMMMMM*

The two explosions were in such rapid succession that they seemed like one big fireball. They set off the plastique in the walls and stored in the kitchen, adding to the tremendous power of the blast.

Many of the 200 people ringing the building were knocked down, and some hit by shards of concrete. But they were far enough away that, amazingly, no one outside died. Even so, many of them panicked and ran away from the building... and right at the Police cordon.

"Take them down!" I yelled. "Arrest every one of them!" Police began engaging the running perps in personal combat, knocking them down, subduing them, zip-tying their hands behind them in a very coordinated way... as if they'd practiced and knew who would do what.

Some of the perps decided to attack me and the command post. It was a poor decision. Officers took the attackers down. I was right there with them, delighting in smashing my crowbar into perps's faces, swinging hard and hitting arms and bodies, and administering as much pain as possible to the lawbreaking thugs.

And then I felt myself being grabbed and pulled back. Rudistan and Hicks had followed the Sheriff's orders, and had extricated me from the melée. The Sheriff did not need words to make clear his orders that I was to stay back and let our Officers get the job done.

It was over in ten minutes. The Police made 202 arrests, and the perps were taken to County Jail for processing. And then I looked what was left of the Block House, which was 'very little'. The building had all but disintegrated in the explosion.

Leaving the world no poorer, eight men died. That one of them was Jacquez Wilson was good; he had gotten what he had so totally deserved. But I felt a much greater satisfaction, born from the knowledge that the Penis Holder would never again threaten my daughter, nor call her a 'halfbreed'. Ever again.

Lester Holder was dead.

To be continued.