by Melody Anne
“I accept your apology, Mr. Kotzen,” Katherine said quickly.
Joseph rolled his eyes, the sheriff clenched his jaw, and the attorney sat there stone-faced, as any good attorney would.
“There are a couple of things I’d like to offer you, Mr. Kotzen,” Katherine stated.
He looked up at her, confusion written all over his face.
“You see, I don’t know your story. I don’t know why you’ve led the life you lead now. It doesn’t make sense to me, but I believe people can make it through their personal darkness and find a light they can share with others. What you’ve chosen to become is sad to me and I can’t believe it’s what you dreamed of being as a young man. Somewhere along your path something went terribly wrong for you, and I’m offering you a way to start a new path,” Katherine shared.
Giving an almost frantic look to the sheriff, Mr. Kotzen squirmed in his chair, trying to gain an understanding of what Katherine was saying to him.
“I . . . I . . . I don’t . . .” stuttered the man, unable to get a sentence out of his shocked lips.
Katherine didn’t interrupt. She wanted him to work through whatever his brain was trying to process.
Finding his words, the man said, “I don’t understand what you mean, lady.”
“Mrs. Anderson!” Joseph harshly barked out.
Katherine snapped her head and stared Joseph down while he refused to look at her. He also refused to feel any guilt for correcting the way this man had addressed his wife.
“Sorry. I don’t understand, Mrs. Anderson,” said the criminal.
Katherine wanted to snap a slew of profanities at her husband for his outburst, but she knew where he was coming from and why he jumped down this guy’s throat. She collected herself and focused her thoughts.
“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t know why you deal drugs, make poor decisions, and live a life that isn’t fulfilling for you or those around you. Somewhere along the way you made a choice that wasn’t beneficial for you or other people in your path, and then you followed that choice with more poor choices, which led you to hitting an innocent woman out for a stroll at a place that should be safe. This life has you in and out of jail, and it’s hurting others around you because you’re giving them drugs that they become dependent on, which puts them on the same bad path as you’ve taken,” Katherine said.
Kotzen started to get defensive, but with one firm look from Katherine he settled down. He looked away and stared at his hands. Katherine was sure the man had been through a lot this past week, probably the past dozen years, but she hoped her forgiveness could lead him on a new path.
“Yeah, I’ve made some bad choices,” Kotzen finally admitted.
“I’ve been given a choice in our situation, Mr. Kotzen. You see, I’m with my husband, my lawyer, and the sheriff, and each of them have their own thoughts and ideas on what my choice should be. Each of these men have made choices that set them up to be successful in their personal and professional lives, but more than that, they’re each worthy of respect in our society because they perform some sort of function that has a positive impact on those around them.” She paused as she took a breath. He didn’t interrupt her before she continued.
“It’s been a blessing to have all of these people in my life, and I pray I’ve been a blessing for them as well. In all of this, we make choices, and today I’m here in front of you asking you to make a choice that will change your life for the better. You don’t have to accept my offer, and as much as that will hurt me, it’s your decision, but I won’t force it upon you. I’m also not making my choice conditional to you accepting my offer. I’m here with an irenic proposal,” Katherine finished.
Kotzen looked at her blankly and more than a little confessed, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Anderson, I don’t know what you mean by that. Don’t know what irenic is.”
An understanding smile showed on her face and she said, “It means peaceful, or to promote peace.”
“Oh,” said Kotzen, obviously still not understanding.
“My irenic proposal to you, sir, is this. You come back to the veteran’s center and stay for twelve months. You go to every class we set up, you go to every meeting, and you only leave the center with a chaperone. That’s it. You won’t have to pay for any of it. Your food and shelter is included with your therapy and the resources to train for a real career path.” His eyes widened as he waited for her to finish. “That doesn’t mean you won’t be expected to work at the center. I’ve learned long ago that anything that’s handed to you for free isn’t nearly as appreciated as something that’s worked for.” She paused and looked his way before continuing.
“Before you ask, I’ll tell you why. It’s simply because I know beyond a shadow of doubt that once you see the positive changes in your life, and you see the type of company you keep become positive, it’ll change your life,” Katherine said.
Kotzen sat there, face turning and scrunching up while trying to process the words he’d just heard. Katherine knew the man’s mind had been foggy for many years from drugs. It would take him longer than someone who’d been free of the parasitic substances to comprehend the offer on the table.
“What happens when I screw up? I ain’t been too good at followin’ rules,” he shared.
It surprised no one when his response was negative instead of positive. As with anyone’s mind, the output was equal to the input, and his had been trained to lean toward the negative after years and years of poor decisions, which ended up in a bucket filled with poor outcomes.
“What happens when you don’t?” Katherine countered, then continued, “There are no strings attached to this offer, Mr. Kotzen. While I don’t have the power to remove any charges that have been brought by the police, I won’t be pressing personal charges against you. Once we conclude this meeting you can either take a chance to change your life and work toward something greater, or we go our separate ways. I’m sure you’ve seen enough of the path you’ve been on that choosing the option of going to the center can lead to nothing but good.”
Deep lines creased over Kotzen’s forehead. The struggle to break free from the grip his foundation of brokenness had on him was painfully obvious. An internal battle raged within. The small sliver of wanting out of the life he was in was easily losing to the comfort of the normalcy of what the last twenty years had given him. Then, something happened that shocked every person in the room at the courthouse.
Katherine stood, walked around the table to where the man who’d violently attacked her was sitting, pulled out the chair next to him, sat down, and proceeded to give him a hug. A conversation started between the two of them as she whispered in his ear.
“Whatever pain you’ve suffered, whoever has hurt you, and why you’re in this position doesn’t matter right now. You might not believe in yourself, but there are people who do believe in you, and I’m one of them. I’m a mother and have three boys of my own, and I can’t imagine how hurt I’d be if they were given an opportunity to better themselves, and they passed it up. Let us work through this together and help you create a life you can be proud of. I know you can do it,” Katherine said, making all of the stiffness from his rigid body melt away.
Kotzen went from a hardened lowlife to a broken young man in those few sentences. Silent tears fell from his hidden eyes. He admitted to Katherine that his mother had died when he was a young boy, and his father had drunk himself into an early grave, leaving him and a brother to fend for themselves as teenagers. She gently placed a hand on his cheek, bringing their faces close, and told him that his mother would never have wanted him to go through that heartache or to live the life he was living now.
Joseph watched in shock as Katherine’s gentleness brought the walls of the career criminal crashing down. It was more than obvious that this man had never been treated so kindly.
“Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll go. What do I need to do?” he asked as he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt
.
“First, you need to stand up and give me a hug and promise me you’re going to do everything asked of you,” Katherine said as she stood next to him.
The emotions continued to roll through Kotzen. He stood as requested and as his body felt her secure hug, he started crying again.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Anderson. Please . . . I . . . please . . . forgive me,” he stammered.
“It’s okay, dear. I accepted your apology and don’t need you to do it again. You’re forgiven. I don’t say that lightly. Now, dry your eyes and let us finish this. There are a few papers you need to read and sign. Franklin will talk you through each of them. It’s nothing more than you agreeing to stay at the veterans center and understanding the rules there,” Katherine said as she initiated a look between her and the lawyer to get all of the paperwork out.
“When will I go?” Kotzen asked through a deep sniff to catch the run in his nose.
“I’ve talked to Sheriff McCormack, and an agreement is already in place. If you choose to go to the veteran’s center, there will be no jail time and no charges brought up. They didn’t want to give you that information until you made your choice. We have a vehicle waiting for you outside the courthouse that will take you there once we’re done. I have a doctor’s appointment after this, but I’ll come by later today to see you,” Katherine replied.
“Okay,” was all Kotzen could say.
Katherine grabbed his hand as a final gesture. “I know there are layers of complicated feelings in this, layers of anger and frustration and mistrust and heartache from years of despair. Get through this one day at a time. Soon, those layers will be broken and when you shake them off new ones will take their place. You’ll have help, but you have to walk through those hard days and not give up.”
Again, the broken man could only say, “Okay.”
Katherine looked across the table at her husband and smiled. She could see the emotion in his face had changed, and his own eyes had welled up during the last few exchanges.
After the attorney read word for word and went line by line through each of the documents, Kotzen signed his copies and everyone stood in unison.
Once in the hallway of the courthouse the bustle of people overtook the silence of their group. Handshakes were exchanged between the Andersons, their attorney, and the sheriff. Franklin and another officer escorted Kotzen to the waiting vehicle while Joseph and Katherine slowly made their way down the corridor.
“Katherine Anderson, you’re beyond remarkable. I stand in awe of you and the angel of a soul inside you,” Joseph said, smiling while weaving his fingers into hers.
“What? Why do you say that?” Katherine asked.
“For what you’ve done with Kotzen. I was completely against it, and after seeing what you did and how you’re changing his life, I have to admit I was completely wrong,” Joseph replied.
After a few more steps Katherine halted their walk. She pulled her hand from Joseph’s, turned around, looked down the hall they’d just come from, then turned back again and looked up at her husband with confusion, “Where did we just come from?”
“What?” Joseph asked, confused by the question.
Katherine shook her head, as if she was trying to break loose from a bad dream, then she sat herself down on a bench along the wall.
Joseph’s internal alarms started ringing, alerting him that something most definitely needed attention. Kneeling in front of Katherine, he took her hands in his, investigated her face, and asked what was wrong.
After a few extended inhales of air Katherine composed herself. She looked at Joseph and asked him to excuse her behavior, that she’d just felt a little off but was feeling fine now.
“Stop fretting, Joseph,” Katherine commanded.
“You scared me, my love. Of course, I’m going to fret,” Joseph replied.
Katherine stood and started their walk from the courthouse. She reached down and took his hand again, making him feel better at the connection.
“Oh, stop looking at me like that. Even without having to look at you I can feel the stare,” Katherine said with a sigh. Then she gave Joseph a playful smile. “And if you don’t, I’m going to get my new best friend to beat you up.”
It was way too early in all of this for Joseph to handle a joke about Kotzen, but he did smile, thinking of how his friends already had beat up the lowlife once before and would gladly do it again. The thought brought a different kind of smile to his face. He’d keep an eye on Kotzen — and on his wife — whether she liked it or not.
Chapter Seven
Ten Years Earlier
Green was sitting as still as a rock with Jim O’Bryan, known to him and the men as Maps, who was currently his spotter — and the best damn man for the job. Maps had a seemingly photographic memory of every map he’d ever studied, and Green had a feeling there wasn’t a land he hadn’t felt the need to map out.
His love of geography and his photographic memory made him pretty damn coveted as a spotter for every sniper in the military. Maps had been teamed up with Green for nearly twelve straight months, the last five in Syria. Green had been bummed when he’d gone on another assignment and Maps had been called elsewhere.
“Green,” Maps said in nothing more than a whisper. The voice of Green’s spotter wouldn’t travel much sitting inside of the room they’d occupied for the last six hours, but they never took unnecessary chances. They always assumed someone, somewhere, was listening.
“Yeah?” Green responded. His focus hadn’t altered since he’d taken his position, shifting his left eye to the scope that was zoomed out to its fullest power, giving the right one a break but still maintaining situational awareness downrange.
“We’re active. Ten minutes out. Confirmed target in second vehicle. They’re traveling at forty miles per hour, but they’ll drop down to approximately thirty-four when making the turn, and then slow even more at the small incline just after the corner. My estimation is they’ll drop to twenty-nine. The target vehicle consistently rides twenty yards behind the lead vehicle. They’ll be stopped by cross traffic for ten seconds. Current temperature’s eighty-one degrees, forty-eight percent humidity, wind is at four miles per hour from two hundred thirty-three degrees, distance is two thousand, six hundred eighteen yards. Target’s sitting in rear seat, passenger side,” Maps said, reaffirming the information they’d gone over at least half a dozen times.
“Copy,” Green said.
The next nine minutes and fifty seconds went by at the same rate the first six hours had. Then the first vehicle in the train Green and Maps had been waiting for came into view and the plan unfolded exactly as planned. Due to the distance, the front of the lead vehicle was lost behind a building, but the second vehicle sat in perfect position.
“Going hot,” Green spoke against his rifle, right eye set on the target. A simple click of the safety was the only sound heard. No response from Maps was needed or expected.
Green took in a slow, deep breath, let it all out and then waited to shoot between heartbeats. Many didn’t believe men like Green could fire between heartbeats, but Green didn’t care what men did or didn’t believe. He was so in tune with his body he could easily know when his heart relaxed between beats at any time of day.
The MK 15 Mod 0 rifle was as still as a brick, the trigger set at 2.3 pounds, weighing almost 30 pounds with all of the attachments but still had a considerable jump to it when the bullet exploded from the barrel. Ripping through the air at 2,700 feet per second, it would take almost five seconds to reach the target. The spotter would watch the round split the air, making a vapor trail all the way to the target.
As expected, the round found its mark. Upon Maps confirming a positive hit, the two of them quickly put their gear away and began exiting from the dilapidated two-story house, doing their best to remove themselves without being seen.
Before they got out, a volley of machine gun rounds ripped through the air. Green looke
d out a window and saw the train of vehicles following a small band of Canadian troops working through the town. Expecting the Canadians of being at fault for the attack the insurgents took out their anger on the US allies.
“Call this in, we need to engage,” Green said to Maps as he pulled his rifle out and set up to start to range out the targets. After a few seconds Green demanded an answer to what was taking so long.
“No engagement confirmed yet,” Maps said with a high level of irritation in his voice. It was the same anywhere and everywhere a military member went. Wait for permission to do anything and then wait to receive confirmation on that confirmation.
“I’m not watching our brothers be mowed down,” Green said as he started the process of engaging enemies with one of the most accurate rifles in the world.
Maps was cut from the same cloth as Green, and when hearing the decision Green made, Maps went to work on setting up his own gear. It took no time to get his eyes downrange and onto the insurgents who had the Canadians pinned down. With a quick count Green estimated there were about 20 Canadians and 40 terrorists. The odds wouldn’t be much of an issue if the conflict was expected, but this was a surprise for both sides, and it was a mess.
Two Canadians went down, then another, filling Green with rage. These criminal masterminds didn’t care who they shot, didn’t care if they were innocent or not. They’d mow down a child, a grandmother, and a family pet without batting an eye. They didn’t just go after soldiers; they went after anyone in their way. Those remaining alive were doing their best to form up and get out of the box they’d found themselves in when the gunfire had begun. Groups of insurgents splintered off, surrounding the Canadians. This was going to go terribly if Green and Maps didn’t engage quickly.
Thankfully the firefight had come much closer to them. The range was now 1000 to 1500 yards. All but potshots for Green.
“Let’s try to work an opening for them at the section where the mosque on Al-Amarah is, get them going north. There are only seven insurgents there. See them? You have range?” Green and Maps combined sentences as if their minds were melding.
