by Glen Tate
“I had a quiet little life for about twenty years and then decided to run for the Supreme Court,” he said. What he didn’t say was that he had an extremely successful legal career as a civilian lawyer, gaining a statewide reputation as a legal genius. “I kept my politics to myself because in the old state, my views weren’t exactly popular. I got lucky and was elected to office before the Collapse.” What he didn’t say was that his opponent was a last-minute pick by the political establishment to fill a vacant seat when a justice died. The establishment never had a reason to dislike Reid because they didn’t know his politics; their discomfort with him was just that he wasn’t one of them. He didn’t go to their parties, serve on the boards of their charities, or do all the other rear-end-kissing that was required to hold office.
Another thing Reid left out was that his opponent in the election had one of the worst ballot names possible: “Crapper.” His opponent’s name was “Stanley Crapper.” It was Crapper versus the Congressional Medal of Honor recipient. Even in a left-wing state, a Congressional Medal of Honor recipient beats a Crapper.
“The justices of the former Washington State Supreme Court,” Reid continued, “didn’t know what to make of me. They weren’t used to someone like me: independent, outspoken, liberty-focused.” Reid was being understated again. After they learned of his politics, the establishment justices hated him and reminded him of it every day. “I wrote a lot of dissents,” he said, once again understatedly. He was too polite to say that his dissents were brilliant. They tore the logic of the big-government justices to shreds. He became the hero of the handful of pro-liberty people in the state.
“I could see all the corruption and tyranny,” he went on. “I saw the justices taking phone calls from elected officials suggesting how a case should turn out. And, I know, it’s not polite to say things like this, but most of the justices of the old Supreme Court were not very intelligent. They were just rubber stamps for the growth of government and expanding the rights of special interest groups.”
“The last straw came when the Legislature passed the ‘tough-on-crime’ bills right before the Collapse. They claimed to suspend constitutional rights in a time of ‘crisis.’ What ‘crisis’? The one they created with their stupid big government?” The crowd applauded.
“I could no longer be part of that system,” he said with pride. “I wrote my resignation letter in my dissent in the case on the suspension of constitutional rights.” His resignation letter and that dissent was some of the best political and legal writing in decades. It reminded many of the writings of the Founding Fathers.
“So I quit,” he said, to more applause.
“The Collapse came a few weeks later. I knew that I was on their POI list, so I put my family in hiding and decided to offer my services to the Patriots.”
“Unfortunately, they didn’t need anyone to pilot an F-15—or, in my case, fly one into an enemy anti-aircraft missile salvo like I managed to do the last time I was in the air,” he said modestly, “So I did the next best thing I could: I volunteered to set up the new legal system we would need for the Restoration.”
Reid paused and said very seriously, “You see, I had first-hand knowledge of how not to set up a legal system. I had been knee-deep in it. I knew exactly how a fair and simple justice system, the kind contemplated by the Founders, would operate.”
“After making the perilous journey in the Special Air Service,” he said motioning over to Dawn and mouthed ‘thank you,’ “I settled down at the Think Farm.”
His eyes widened and he got animated, “What an amazing collection of people,” he said, pointing to several people in the audience who had been at the Think Farm with him.
“With lots of help from the brilliant minds at the Think Farm,” he said, “we designed a new legal system—well actually, we dusted off the old one, the one called for by the state Constitution. I also had the honor, during my time at the Think Farm, of giving legal advice to the Commandant of the Washington State Guard, Gen. Roswell. Most of the advice centered on a process for treating prisoners fairly.”
“To be honest, there was no established ‘law’ for us to apply during the war, just the law of human decency. But we wanted to start off on the right foot—to conduct the war with a just legal system so that it would become the norm after the war. We didn’t want to fight a war, only to end up with a corrupt legal system like the old one.”
“But we also wanted to win the war, which is hard to do when lawyers are making all the military decisions. So we struck a balance. I’d like to say it was pretty successful.” Some of the crowd noticed Gen. Roswell nodding his head in agreement.
“Another thing we started doing from the Think Farm was setting up a Patriot court system in the territory we controlled. I couldn’t be out in the field for this project, because there was a price on my head, but we worked with local coordinators to find lawyers and non-lawyer justices of the peace to train and install as judges, at least until we could have elections. I wrote a judge’s guide for the new judges to make sure things were consistent with the Constitution and the ways things were done way back when, when we had a more just legal system.”
“We still have a lot of work,” Reid said. “I am so glad the Reconciliation Commission is up and running and doing such great work.” Grant swelled up with pride. Grant idolized him and to hear Reid compliment his work was very gratifying.
“In summation,” he said, sounding like a lawyer, “I want to put this new state on the right foot when it comes to our legal system. We’ve seen what doesn’t work; I was part of the system that didn’t work and I know precisely what not to do. We have a unique once-in-a-century chance to start over and build a truly just legal system. We will be glad to live under it, but more importantly, our kids, grandkids, and great grandkids will, too.”
“Thank you, people of New Washington, for yet another honor with this colonelship. I hope to serve you well.”
Ben gave Reid a “bro hug.” They had a personal connection: they were friends before the Collapse and Ben had appointed him to Supreme Court.
Chapter 350
Col. Randy Heintz
(Midnight Miner)
The applause died down and Ben got back to business.
“We just heard about how New Washington needs a legal system and how Col. Henrichs is putting us on the right foot with one. Another thing every new state needs is money and a stable currency. And, not just money to fight a war, and not just money to pay for the Restoration, as important as those two things are. After the Restoration, we will need a stable currency to grow our economy and have the prosperous lives we want. There is one way to do all of this.” Ben paused for dramatic effect.
“Gold.”
“Gold paid for a lot of the war for us, gold is paying for the Restoration, and gold will back our state currency for our economy going forward. Gold is absolutely essential.”
“But it doesn’t grow on trees,” Ben said. “Well, in Okanogan County, in eastern Washington, gold kind of does grow on trees. Not trees, really, but it’s in the ground. It just takes a lot of work to get it and it takes knowing where the gold is. These are two things Col. Randy Heintz provided to New Washington. When the history of New Washington is written—and we hope these presentations of colonelships are a first draft of that history—the role of Col. Heintz will be emphasized. We might not be able to be here today if it weren’t for him.”
Ben realized he hadn’t asked Randy to stand. “Please stand, sir.” A tall man in his fifties with a potbelly stood up. He was a tough, lumberjack-looking guy with a beard and overalls—yes, overalls in the Legislative chambers. He had taken his ball cap off out of respect for the situation, but had insisted that he wear his (clean) overalls. They were the only pants he had. The Governor’s staff had offered to find Randy a suit, but he refused. Then the staff realized that part of the impact of Randy’s story was that he was a regular guy in overalls, so they encouraged him to wear them.
/> “Randy said he isn’t much of a public speaker,” Ben said, “Actually, he said he swears a lot and didn’t want to offend this distinguished audience, the ladies in particular. So he asked me to tell his story. I hope I don’t swear, Randy.” Randy smiled and gave Ben a thumbs-up.
“Randy grew up near Chesaw, which is a tiny town right near the Canadian border in the northeastern corner of our state. His dad was a logger until harvesting timber growing on bountiful lands became a crime,” Ben said, unable to resist a dig at the former state government and how it shut down logging with environmental regulations. “His dad was obsessed with finding gold in the nearby abandoned gold mines from the 1800s. His dad dreamed of striking it rich and finally living a comfortable life.”
“His dad explored the huge network of abandoned mines and mapped them. As soon as Randy was old enough to walk, he was in the mines with his dad. They found gold in some of them, actually lots of gold in a few of them, but never told anyone. He didn’t want big companies or, more likely, the government, to take the mines. And, to be perfectly honest, many of the mines were in Forest Services lands so mining them wasn’t exactly legal,” Ben said, adding, “under the old laws.”
“When his dad was dying, he asked Randy to promise to use the gold as seed money to buy equipment to ‘midnight mine,’ which meant secretly mine under the cover of darkness. His dad explained that this was to earn money for the family and to get even with the government…” Ben paused, “sorry, the next word Randy used was some of that swearing he didn’t want to say.” The audience laughed.
Ben started over, “To get even with the government bureaucrats who had destroyed the way of life they’d had in Okanogan County for generations: logging, mining, and ranching.”
“Randy enthusiastically agreed with his dad’s vision. He wanted to see it come true. There was also a sense of justice about all of this: if the government would shut down their legal way of life (logging), they would retaliate by breaking the government’s laws to provide a decent living for themselves. It was like the moonshiners in the South; they would resist unjust laws, and make some money by violating the very laws that had been imposed on them by the outsiders. In many ways, Randy and other midnight miners were like moonshiners.”
“Randy, who likes to play the country bumpkin but is actually extremely intelligent, realized that tight-knit and isolated Okanogan County was just like the Southern communities where moonshiners operated freely. Men and women who had grown up together, and who had known each other’s families for over 100 years, became a safe network of allies who would shelter any member of the community who got into trouble. This network was impenetrable by outsiders. And, like the moonshiners, the midnight miners had a monetary incentive to keep the operations going.”
“Randy decided to treat the midnight mining like moonshining. He wanted to expand his operations beyond his dad’s mines. He wanted the whole community to midnight mine and support each other.”
“He started with childhood friends. They made in-kind contributions to the joint mining efforts. They loaned bulldozers, had their children serve as runners, and provided security. They were mining a significant quantity of gold. Randy arranged for his cousin to take the gold into Spokane and sell it. They sold it to different dealers, so no single dealer saw a large amount of gold coming in. The families split the money and no one talked about it outside of the community. Their midnight mining grew large enough to support several families. They spent some of the money on equipment to make even more money.”
“The price of gold before the Collapse varied, but was often around $1,000 per ounce. In the months before the Collapse, the price went up, way up. The week of the Collapse, the price of gold was $10,000 per ounce, if a person could even find any to buy.”
“This made midnight mining about ten times more profitable,” which was fine with Randy and the families. They knew that they weren’t the only ones who realized gold mining was now a very lucrative business. The families devised a comprehensive security plan. Right after the Collapse, a state Department of Ecology inspector ventured into Chesaw to check on some water quality permits and was never heard from again.”
“Randy realized the spike in gold prices was a double-edged sword. It made the gold more valuable, of course, but now it would be harder to sell it. The little shops in Spokane, northern Idaho, and Montana they’d been selling to would be monitoring gold sales now. The government put its collapse plans into action and one of the first things they did was restrict buying, selling, and possessing gold. Randy needed to find someone who he could sell the gold to who wasn’t exactly concerned with the legalities of it.”
“Randy realized that if American law was cramping his business, then he should go four miles north into Canada and do business there. The border was basically unguarded after the Collapse. The Canadian government and economy were linked with the U.S. so the Collapse hit the Canadians hard, too. Their governmental services largely ceased functioning like in the U.S.”
“Randy started selling his gold at the Canadian border. The families were making enormous amounts of money. Randy, realizing how isolated they were, started trading with the Canadian gold dealers for fuel, ammunition, medicine, and other necessities, instead of taking soon-to-be worthless U.S. or Canadian dollars. Besides, if they walked into the general store in a nearby town with thousands of dollars, someone would call the authorities.”
“The Canadian gold buyers decided to try to rip off a load of gold when Randy brought it to the border. They thought he was alone because he always did the deals by himself. But they didn’t know that four of his cousins were always watching the deals with their elk rifles trained on the Canadians. Randy showed the Canadians respect by burying them on their side of the border.”
“Right before the Canadian incident,” Ben said, “one of the families suggested that they sell the gold to the Patriots. Several families had Vietnam veterans; Okanogan County was a haven for them. No one bothered them and everyone flew the Don’t Tread on Me flag. Two of the veterans were Oath Keepers and asked if they could contact their Oath Keeper friends in Spokane. The families decided to allow the contact. The idea was to have a way to sell the gold, and to help the Patriots. In that order, to be honest.” Ben shrugged and smiled.
Ben looked at Joe Tantori in the first row and said, “It was a lot like the maritime privateers and the letters of marque – part patriotism and part profit. It worked well in the first Revolutionary War and it worked well for us, too.”
“Randy and the families weren’t greedy. They had always lived frugally; there was a limit to how much money they could use, since there was almost nothing to spend it on. He also realized that if they got greedy, a stronger force—the government, gangs, or maybe even the Patriots—would just come in and steal the gold and work the mines themselves. The families met and made a decision that was not only wise for their personal interests, but was monumental to helping our side in the war.”
“The families decided to sell the gold to the Patriots ‘at cost’ which meant that the families would deliver the gold, but wanted the Patriots to provide all the equipment and security necessary, and throw in plenty of food and some nice luxury items. Randy would just tell his Patriot contact what he needed—bulldozers, parts, diesel, a machine gun crew, maybe some chocolate for his wife—and the stuff would arrive. The gold would go to the Patriots.”
“Randy, being a smart guy, also had one other condition: the gold must actually go to the Patriot war effort. No skimming, no stealing. He worked out a creative system that solved two problems at once and asked the head of the Patriot intelligence service to have his wife and kids stay with the families in Chesaw. It would be safe for them there. Randy would ask for an independent report from the Think Farm on how much gold was getting to the Patriots. If it was lower than the amount the families sent to the Patriots, there was a problem. And now, with his family in Chesaw, it was a personal problem for the intelligence chief
. The arrangement wasn’t foolproof—the Think Farm could be in cahoots with the intelligence chief and giving fake reports—but Randy was reasonably certain that the intelligence chief wouldn’t risk the safety of his family to skim from the Patriots.”
“As the Collapse slowly turned into the war, we needed more and more gold,” Ben said, speaking for the Patriots. “We used the gold to buy weapons, supplies, food, and to bribe Limas. I wish I could tell you all the things we bought with the gold, but much of it is classified. However, I can speak from personal knowledge that the Chesaw gold was critical to us winning the war and being able to sit here today as the New Washington Legislature.” As he thought about the effects the gold had, Ben’s mind spun when he realized what a huge impact one guy from Chesaw in overalls had on the war effort. He regained his thoughts and continued.
“The Patriots offered more and more support for mining. The security around the mines and surrounding towns got stronger and stronger. We started using the surrounding towns as hiding places for key personnel, like the intelligence chief’s family. The Chesaw area was becoming a thriving rebel stronghold, centered on an extremely valuable activity: gold mining.”
“When I spoke with Randy, I asked him what was the one thing that made the midnight mining so successful for the Patriots. He said, ‘Respect.’ He said that the Patriots never tried to steal from the families and never tried to take over. Part of this was that only the families knew where the best mines were, but right from the start of the relationship, the Patriots—almost all of whom hated the regulators in the old state as much as the Chesaw families—treated the families as valued partners, not as slaves to be taken advantage of. There was a practical aspect to this, too. More than one Patriot leader used the phrase, ‘don’t kill the golden goose.’”
Ben paused, “Well, believe it or not, this is only a third of the story of how valuable the midnight miners were—or, I should say, ‘are’ because their contributions are ongoing.”
