Second Term - A Novel of America in the Last Days (The End of America Series Book 1)

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Second Term - A Novel of America in the Last Days (The End of America Series Book 1) Page 14

by John Price


  Later, in depth reports confirmed that none of the weapons carried in the Parade appeared to have been fired, either intentionally in self-defense, nor inadvertently, as marchers fled, fell or were trampled. Those reports, though, took several months to be completed.

  What the mainstream media reported immediately after the Parade panic, though, was a completely different story:

  New York Times

  GUNNERS DEATH MARCH IN OMAHA

  Five Die as Thousands Brandish Guns

  NBC

  OMAHA GUN OWNERS VIOLATE MARTIAL LAW

  CBS

  SECOND AMENDMENT REBELLION IN HEARTLAND

  MSNBC

  OMAHA INSURRECTION BACKFIRES

  Polls Show 7% Increase in Support for Anti-Gun Bill

  FOX

  FREEDOM MARCHERS AMBUSHED BY FEDERAL TROOPS

  THIRTY SIX

  John Madison Website Blog

  While we were at worship services this morning I had three somewhat frantic voicemails at home. The first message, which must have been recorded as we were pulling out of the drive, merely asked if I was or would be in soon. There was some sort of muffled sound, like the caller covering the phone while speaking to someone else, then a quick dial tone. Strange.

  The second call, about an hour later (that must have been about when my wife was elbowing me to stop nodding off during the Pastor’s sermon), was equally unusual. The unidentified caller asked when I would return home and said, “This is important. We need to speak with Mr. Madison. Now. We’ll call back.” Again, no identification by the caller, but it was obvious to me that neither was a sales call. I was sure right about that.

  The third call, which came in as we were at lunch after church at the Black Eyed Pea, was not a call you would ever want to receive. I wrote it down exactly as it was recorded:

  Mr.….John Madison.…this is Special Agent Charles Bock.…of the FBI in the Dallas regional office. I need to speak with you, sir, as soon as you can return this call….It’s an urgent matter, I’m informed by our offices in DC. Please return this call….promptly. (He left his number, twice).

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out why the FBI wanted to talk to me on an urgent matter. It undoubtedly had something to do with my speech in Austin or maybe with my testimony from last month, or it could be…ooops. I’m writing this in my den. I’m typing fast. I’m looking at two black Suburbans, government vehicles of choice, which have just pulled up to our curb. My Sunday afternoon surprise? How many suits did they send? Four? No, my goodness…three in each vehicle. Two talking into their sleeves. Not a good sign. Another checking, no, he’s reaching in and unsnapping, his shoulder holster. A worse sign. I do wish, though, that they would have just waited until I called back, and not sent their squadron of agents to my house to arrest me, in front of my family, on a Sunday afternoon. I’ll get one call to my lawyer -- I hope Chuck’s at home -- more later, assuming there is a later.

  THIRTY SEVEN

  John Madison - Journal Entry

  While I’ve been here in jail, I’ve been thinking a lot about MLK. Martin Luther King, Jr. used his time while in jail in 1963 in the midst of the civil rights struggle, to write what became known as the Letter from Birmingham City Jail. He wrote that “one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws”. I certainly agree with Rev. King. As a created human being I have the moral right to defend myself, and my family members, from another human being who may want to harm us or take our lives. It’s immoral to prevent me from defending myself and my family. I have the God-given right to speak my mind on who should be the leaders of my nation’s government.

  I’m writing this as a journal entry, instead of a campaign website blog, since I don’t have access to a computer. I recognize, though, that these words may never be read. Security in this Houston, Texas Federal Detention Center is quite tight. King faced a similar problem, of course. He smuggled his letter out of the Alabama jail in a toothpaste tube. I’ll get this out somehow. Probably.

  The news they allow us to see here indicates that the House will vote on the McAlister Bill soon. I’m only allowed one call a day, which I normally use to talk to my beloved Debbie. So, I’ve not been in a position since I got here to be involved in any way in either the debate on the gun bill, or working with my buddies to try and influence Members of Congress to oppose the McAlister Bill. Not that they missed me all that much. I’m the one that Senator Blevins tricked into saying that the Second Amendment was vague. Genius, right?

  Most of my hours since I’ve been here have been spent working with Chuck, my erstwhile legal beagle. My arrest made some splash in the local media in Texas, though the President’s pals in the national media squelched any national coverage. I’ll have to say that was a shock, after the coverage given to my testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee, but I understand how things work in the liberal mainstream media. An occasional news magazine or newspaper article, though, quotes me, I’m told, which must irritate the White House. One article accurately reported that my dad named me John in honor of John Adams, one of his heroes. He thought that Adams and James Madison were key to the formation of the nation that we became, so he wanted me to have both names. The media can get it right, sometimes.

  My first question to Chuck was how quick he could get me out on bail. How hard could that be? Well, as it turned out, it was very hard. In fact, impossible. Normally a lawyer can file a writ of habeas corpus and spring his client from the slammer, or at least force the authorities to file charges. By the time any one reads this, it should become known that Chuck’s writ of habeas corpus was denied. Habeas corpus essentially means ‘bring forth the body’ or ‘you may have the body’. The purpose is to make the authorities bring forth a prisoner to the court and justify the prisoner’s detention.

  The Administration, though, had its Department of Justice file a pleading opposing our writ of habeas corpus. On what basis? Article I, Section 9 of the U.S. Constitution allows the government to suspend the right to a writ of habeas corpus “in cases of rebellion…when the public safety may require it.” The Administration warned the Court that national security issues were involved, and notified the Court that my right to a writ of habeas corpus was suspended, because I was part of a “rebellion”. They said the “public safety” required that I lose my right to file a writ. They also argued that under the newly passed National Defense Authorization Act, section 1021, I could be held, as an American citizen, for an indeterminate period of time.

  We’re told that the only person more shocked than Chuck and I was the federal district court judge, who told one of Chuck’s lawyer friends that he had never seen anything like it. He had his staff research whether it had happened before. They learned that it hadn’t happened since Abraham Lincoln suspended the right to habeas corpus writs for Confederate soldiers. No question that the South in the 1860’s rebelled, but our efforts to use the Constitution to change how things work in DC could hardly be called a rebellion.

  Great. Now I’m in “rebellion” against the United States. Give me a break. Chuck says that the conservative commentators and bloggers are calling me a “political prisoner”. I can’t read the blogs, incidentally, because we don’t have access to the internet in the slammer, which I can understand. The guys in here, with all their free time, would figure out how to hack every bank or government office in the country.

  “Political prisoner”? That has an ominous ring to it. I guess that’s what I am. I haven’t done anything to break any laws, at least any that I know of. I know, I know, I hear it all the time from almost every inmate in here that he’s an innocent man. But, I think I really am innocent. They won’t tell us what laws I am accused of breaking, and since my habeas corpus petition rights have been suspended, Chuck says they can just keep holding me here on unspecified charges. Section 1021. We both think that will eventually change and they’ll file charges, but they’re holding up, we believe, until after the McAlister Bill passes, or gets defeated, as
the case may be. They don’t want to stir things up any more than necessary, until the vote is taken. Likewise, I didn’t want to go completely ballistic public-comment wise, as much as I can from the slammer, until after the vote on the Bill. That would be a complication that the opponents of the bill don’t need, to be saddled with official charges of “rebellion”, or whatever they decide on, filed against one of the leaders against the Bill.

  Bottom line, right now it looks like I’m not getting out of federal prison until I’m eventually tried by a jury of my peers, hopefully, and found innocent. When will that be? Unknown, according to Chuck. Obviously, they need to keep me bottled up here until the Congress votes the McAlister Bill up or down. If it passes, I’ll be tried and the Department of Justice will throw the veritable kitchen sink at me. If the Bill fails, it could be a long time before my case comes to a public trial, for obvious reasons. They wouldn’t want to try a leader of a cause that had just won, if the Bill is defeated. Chuck says that a defeat of the McAlister Bill would make it harder to get a jury to convict me. I like the sound of that.

  My primary heart ache in jail has not been myself (I knew what I was getting into, sort of), but instead, my ongoing disagreements with our son, John Madison II, a/k/a Jack. Jack, our oldest child, is married and has fathered our two grandchildren. He is the pastor of a fast growing church in the Dallas area, and is starting a new television ministry. Jack is a great kid (though at his age now the word kid might not apply). We have a good relationship, and have had since he was birthed, but that doesn’t mean he agrees with his dad on what I have been doing for the last few years. His view is that as Christians we are to ‘render unto Caesar’. I agree with that, but only as I think Jesus used it, in regard to paying taxes.

  My opposition to the President in the recent Presidential campaign, which admittedly was fairly high profile, led to several somewhat intense arguments with Jack. He just feels that we should live under whatever government we get, and not ever oppose Caesar. In one of our debates, I reminded him of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who was executed for his involvement in an attempt to assassinate Hitler. He admitted that Bonhoeffer was a good example of a principled Christian who acted out of a desire to save the lives of Jews who were being slaughtered in concentration camps, but he argued I was no Bonhoeffer. OK, agreed, but I am worried about how this Administration is treating Israel, pushing it to give up its land. If we curse Israel, we will be cursed, I argued to Jack, citing one of the verses I’ve actually memorized. Genesis 12:3, I reminded my son, promises blessings to those who bless Israel and curses to those who curse Israel. He said America would never abandon Israel, but I replied that may not be the case under this Administration. But, simply stated, Jack’s not in very much agreement with me on very much that I’ve been doing.

  Debbie and I love Jack, and his terrific wife, Allison, who doesn’t say much on the subject, but who seems to agree with her husband. We pray that they will eventually understand why his dad took on the President. In the meantime, we’ll just agree to disagree, and try to do it agreeably, as they say. But, it still hurts every time Jack asks me if I really know what I’m doing. Our other child, Katie, is working overseas and not too much affected by her dad’s problems. We only briefly discuss the issue in our weekly calls. But, she says she prays a lot for us, which is good to hear.

  Well, that’s enough candid blathering for now. Sorry I ran on, but what else are you going to do with your time in the joint?

  THIRTY EIGHT

  Dallas, Texas

  Pastor Jack Madison was having a good day. He’d met with his men’s discipleship group for breakfast at La Donni’s, his favorite morning restaurant, he’d finished his sermon notes for Sunday and had just started reading a contract from a local television station to carry his church’s services on air. Then his day changed, abruptly. His long-time assistant had just buzzed him to tell him that there were two unsmiling, dark-suited federal agents in her office demanding that they see him. The agents had arrived at his church, without an appointment. Great, he thought, I’ m not dressed in business attire today, just jeans and a polo shirt, since it’s Friday. How was he going to be perceived by his unannounced visitors? He was taller than his dad, due to his mom being nearly as tall as her husband. He had a full head of dark hair and his wife, Allison, regularly told him she thought he was quite handsome. But, his looks he quickly concluded, would have nothing to do with why he was being visited by federal agents. He had a distinctly bad feeling about what was about to occur.

  After perfunctorily apologizing for coming to his church office without an appointment, the older of the two agents said, before even taking a seat, “Pastor Madison, we’re here to advise you, as a representative of the family, that the government plans to indict your father for several federal crimes, not the least of which is expected to be a charge of conspiracy to overthrow the government”.

  Jack was not pleased at having federal agents descend on his office, unannounced, nor with their attitude and general demeanor. His earlier thoughts were confirmed, as he sensed that this meeting would not yield positive results. Thus it was that Jack flippantly responded, “Well, any candidate who runs for office is trying to overthrow the government”.

  “Really, Pastor Madison?” It was obvious to Jack that they were definitely not amused. “Your father wasn’t a candidate for office. If he had been a candidate, maybe some of his incendiary words, though not his seditious plans, might have been protected speech. No, Pastor Madison, your father is expected to be charged with these several federal crimes because he went over the line. He clearly violated the federal hate crimes law. He’ll be charged with even more serious crimes than hate crimes. He’s an enemy of the state.”

  Jack was raised to be polite, but he was at the outside limit of his ability to restrain himself. He wanted to reach across the desk and smack these guys silly, but he knew that striking a federal agent would earn him an adjoining cell next to his dad. Instead, all he could think to say was, “May I ask why you are here? And why are you telling me these things? I’m not my dad’s lawyer. Call Chuck Webster in Tyler. I don’t control what my dad says or does. Talk to him.”

  “Pastor Madison, you make a valid point, you are not legally representing your father. But, as his son, you have contact and you communicate with your father, as we, of course, know from monitoring all of your father’s communications with anyone outside the federal facility.”

  “Don’t you see any Constitutional issues involved here? You read everything he writes? Everything, even to my mom?”

  “Of course, Pastor. Your father is expected to be charged soon as an enemy of the state. Under the Patriot Act we can do what we need to do to protect America.”

  “Look guys. I’m a busy pastor of a fair-sized church. You’ve got lots of federal criminals out there to catch, I’m sure, so can we either wind this up, or can we get to the point?”

  “No reason to be testy, Pastor Madison. The point that you want us to get to is simply this. Three things. Number one. Encourage your father to back off his trouble making. We know what he’s doing, or trying to do. Knock it off.

  “Number two. Advise John Madison to stop writing letters and articles that are being used to stir up the gunners across the country. Stop writing.

  “And number three. Suggest to him that if he ever wants to live someplace but a prison cell, he should consider a plea bargain once he’s charged. Agree with the Department of Justice that he’s violated the law, take his lumps, and maybe, with some good behavior, someday he’ll get to spend some time, on the outside, with your children, Josh, Sarah and Thomas, that is while they’re still children.”

  The agent’s last comment, specifically naming Jack’s three minor children, obviously to scare and intimidate him, was too much for Jack. “We’re done, gentlemen. You found your own way in, you can find your own way out.”

  The agents were trained to carefully watch and evaluate the reaction of int
erviewees whom they wanted to intimidate. After they were abruptly evicted from the Pastor’s office, they both agreed that it had been a fruitful visit. They both agreed as they drove away from the church that Pastor John “Jack” Madison had been somewhat intimidated. He would talk to his father and convey everything he had heard. However, the older agent, upon reflection, said, “I agree that he was intimidated, he’ll pass it all on to his dad. But…. I saw in his eyes something that concerned me. He’s no wimp, no roll over. The powers that be had better never push this young man too far….or….they may wish they hadn’t.”

  THIRTY NINE

  Houston Federal Detention Center

  Jack Madison enjoyed visiting with his Dad even though the visit was at a federal prison. What he was not looking forward to was telling him what the FBI agents had revealed to him in their recent unpleasant visit to his church office. He knew he had to share what they had said, but he dreaded being the bearer of serious news, that agents of their nation’s government had confirmed to Jack that his father would be charged with several federal crimes. How many sons, he wondered, as he checked through security at the Houston federal detention facility, have ever had to tell their father that he was going to be formally accused of serious federal crimes. Not many, he thought, as he realized he needed to pray before he entered the prisoner/visitor contact area of the prison. He had been so wrought up over what he would say, that he had forgotten to turn the matter over in prayer. I’m a pastor. I should know how to approach tough jobs like this, he thought. So, he prayed and then went in to deliver the somber news.

 

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