by Johnny Jacks
“That’s a good beginning,” Mark said, giving Yolanda’s hand a soft squeeze to show his pleasure with her contribution to their efforts.
Charles added his expertise. “Before becoming a cop, I was a gasoline and diesel mechanic and my electrician mentioned being a prepper. I’ll check him out.”
“Anybody else with skills to fill an important job? Backgrounds like Charles’ that we don’t know about?”
Yeung raised his hand. “I served a tour with the Sea Bees. I can operate heavy machinery and know simple carpentry, but can’t build houses from scratch.”
“Now we’re getting a game plan,” Ramirez said.
Grayson looked quickly at Joe before he spoke. “My father was a sharecropper. It’s been a while but with a little time, I could work a small farm. I’d have to defer to Yolanda for growing more than corn, cotton, and watermelons though.” What the hell am I doing? So much for not making rash decisions.
Samuel spoke next. “Joe, Pablo, and I have been cops all our lives. We could head security.”
Ramirez looked at Grayson. “As you can see, we’re getting off the ground but there’re many holes yet to fill to be ready for the collapse. Any questions for us?”
“It’s been a long time since I last pitched hay; other than training everyone how to move through the woods without getting ambushed, where do you see me fitting in?”
Ramirez didn’t hesitate. “You are an expert at the art of guerrilla warfare. Just as we needed Mark’s knowledge and skills on how to start a MAG, we need yours if we are to survive the die-off. Lots of bad guys will be out to take whatever we have. Their numbers will grow when people begin to starve.”
“Your background is the same as mine, Chief.”
“True, but look at this white hair and potbelly. I’m a headquarters puke, not a field trooper anymore.” Ramirez stood. “Everyone take a couple of minutes to grab a fresh cup of coffee and hit the latrine before we move on to discussing a BOL.”
~~~
“Joe, what did you learn on your recon of that hundred-acre farm for sale?”
“It’s near the Trinity River, a short distance south of Palestine, Texas and is about as perfect as it can be, considering the population density for that region of the country. It’s roughly a hundred and fifty miles north of Houston and far enough east of Waco not to be an immediate problem when the die-off begins. Crime rate is low. There’s plenty of water, arable land, pasture, and woods loaded with deer and turkeys.”
Joe turned to Grayson. “The locals are mostly church-going Christians, good folks. We’ve been visiting different churches and shopping in the area to get a feel for the people and environment.”
“Joe, I don’t want to be a pessimist, but I detect that you aren’t giving us the downside,” Yeung said.
“Good detecting skills, Officer Yeung. The total cost is outside our collective purchasing power. The price of the land is reasonable, but there’s a big farmhouse and a large barn on it that drive the price too high. One of us has to hit the lottery to be able to afford it or else come up with some very creative financing.”
“Sorry to make you waste the trip,” Ramirez said.
“No problem. At least we know it’s a good area if affordable land pops up, something where we can build on over time.”
“Why not just bug out to one of the three national forests near Houston?” Yolanda asked.
Everyone looked at Mark for the answer. “Millions of others will have the same idea. Houston is the fourth largest city in America. After a few days, we would bump into too many desperate, starving people. They’ll kill off whatever wild game is available in short order and then start on each other. Trying to survive long-term while living out of a backpack is impossibly foolish.”
Grayson had a lot of respect for Mark, and it grew by the minute. The more Mark talked, the more he worried about the future of his country for Daniel and, hopefully, his offspring. He couldn’t imagine where it would end. “How do you anticipate this die-off thing taking place? I read about it, but I want your personal take on it, Mark, before I make a decision on joining the MAG.”
Stunned silence filled the room. Well, guys. You assumed; you didn’t ask.
“In a congressional hearing a few years back, former CIA Director James Woolsey predicted that seventy to ninety percent of the American population will die if we lost electricity for a year due to an EMP. A concerted Islamist terrorist attack on the grid or a coronal mass ejection from the sun would do the same. Regardless of the reason for the collapse, that’s three hundred million dead, leaving about thirty million survivors.”
Yolanda’s face turned white. “That scares me to death. We have to solve the BOL problem, and soon.”
“I’m not trying to scare you, but we need to be practical. And you’re right,” Mark said. “It’s incumbent upon the survivors to return New America to its constitutional roots. We can only do that if we have adequate security and food to keep us alive during the die-off and enough tools, seeds, and breeding stock for a sustainable food supply.”
Mark looked around the room. “It really is important that everyone finishes reading Absolute Anarchy. It outlines all of this succinctly and is loaded with references for you to research in your areas of specialty. We’ve reached the point where this is an imperative if we’re going to save ourselves, our families, and our country.”
“Yolanda is right,” Ramirez said. “Without a well-developed BOL, we won’t be here to help build New America. That’s priority one.”
Grayson was confused. “That’s the second time I’ve heard the term ‘New America.’ Can someone please explain it?”
All heads pivoted to Mark. That’s the first problem I see. Nobody knows what’s going on but Mark and maybe the chief. These guys need to organize and develop a mission needs statement.
“After the die-off runs its course, we’ll return to horse and buggy days. Assume no electricity or fuel. Most, if not all the bad guys, liberals, and those who live off the welfare state will be dead and can’t continue to screw up the country. I believe the survivors will rebuild a nation founded on solid Judeo-Christian principles and reestablish the original constitution, or New America.”
Charles was clearly startled. “Mark, are you saying only Christians and Jews will survive?”
“It’s logical reasoning, not a value judgement. Most folks who live in the countryside are Christian and have the means to survive, but only if they are ready for a collapse. Almost all non-Christians live in cities and are not self-reliant. Their chances of survival are slim to none. There are also over four million Muslims in the U.S. and most of them were not born here. Who knows what will happen with them?”
Everyone sat in silence, contemplating Mark’s revelation.
Pablo finally spoke. “Regardless of what happens to those in other religions, there’s nothing we can do about them. It sounds cold, but we must think of our own families. We need to acquire farmland ASAP, a bugout location where we can secure a safe place for our families, where we can produce food. It’s a huge expense, but the alternative is unacceptable.”
“How long do we have before the collapse?” Grayson asked.
Mark shrugged. “It could be tomorrow or twenty years from now, depending on the cause—EMP, super volcano eruption, coordinated terrorist attack on the grid, CME, tyranny, economic collapse. The one thing economists I deal with agree on is the country continues to inch away from capitalism and closer to fascism and socialism. Throughout history, all socialist societies have failed. Venezuela is the latest example. Once a thriving capitalist country, the strongest in Latin America, socialism has made it one of the poorest nations on Earth. Their people fight over garbage and are starving to death on the streets.”
Grayson turned Mark’s reply over in his head. “So, you’re saying that we have to be ready every minute for the next twenty years, maybe more?”
“Correct. If our education system, entertainment industry, ne
ws media, and liberal judges continue to bastardize our history and indoctrinate our youth into believing socialism is good and capitalism is bad, economic collapse will be sooner, not later.”
If I die before the collapse, how will Daniel survive? I have to be a part of this.
“So. Where do we start?”
Chapter 13
Tribunals and Tribulations
Year 1
Ramirez wiped the sweat pouring down his face with his handkerchief. “I had to slice the air to get from my car to the courthouse. Still feel like I’m suffocating. Somebody needs to tell the weather lady that August was two months ago. You okay, son?”
“I’m upright. That’s about the best I can say. You’re in a dark mood, Chief.”
“I can’t believe we have to go through this bull. Grayson, if you lose this trial to Delgado because of your obsessive behavior and the city has to pay a bunch of money, I’ll throttle you for good measure.”
“Yeah, I planned this to make you miserable.”
“Watch it, smart mouth. I won’t be able to protect your job a second time. You’ll be lucky to have fifteen minutes to clean out your desk.”
In an equally dark mood, Grayson rubbed his hands together. “I understand. I’m prepared to live with the court’s decision.”
“You’d have fared better if you’d killed Delgado instead of accidentally paralyzing him.”
“Honestly, Chief, even considering my tenuous situation and as loathsome as he is, I wouldn’t wish death on him.”
“You’re too young to go soft on me, young man. Wait till you have gray hair before tempering your perspective on life.”
“I’m a baby compared to an old fart like you.”
“Show respect for senior citizens, boy. Don’t you wonder in what world that Fisher woman thinks Delgado deserves two million dollars for robbing a bank?”
“According to her, I should have asked him nicely to put down his gun and surrender. I showed gross negligence, disregard for public safety, prejudice against aliens, and discrimination against Mexicans in particular.”
“If he hadn’t been holding a gun in a bank robbery, he wouldn’t be paralyzed.”
“When he aimed at me, I shot at his pistol, not his spine. I just wanted to stop the bastard from hurting anyone. The two working with him shot at me without a second thought, so I eliminated them, but Delgado looked like a scared kid.”
“How many kids have shot our officers?” Ramirez snapped. “Too many to count.”
“If he wins this, he kills me without firing a shot.”
“Like hell he does! Your little finger is worth more than him and his wheelchair.”
“Chief, this trial could get ugly quickly, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Fisher’s claws are sharpened; I’m the prey.”
“Don’t you let that woman get the upper hand in there. Hang onto your family jewels. You hear me, boy?”
Grayson knew too well that she had the upper hand. He had a gut feeling the hideous creature would emasculate him before the trial was over. She had a debt to settle for the ride-along. He blew out his breath through pursed lips when the lock clicked and the doors to the courtroom opened.
His future depended on his best game during this ridiculous waste of city money. Once again, Shannon Fisher was out to save the world from the big bad white cops.
Chapter 14
Shannon’s Setup
Year 1
“All rise.”
Shannon opened for the prosecution.
“Houston Police Detective Grayson Dean, disregarding public safety, fired the bullet that paralyzed my client, Mr. José Delgado, who will never walk again. The City’s negligent policy to protect citizen safety created this situation.” Shannon paused and scanned the jury.
“The primary perpetrator, Officer Grayson Dean, shot Mr. Delgado in the spine instead of affording him a chance to surrender in accordance with proper police procedures.”
She paused again to let her words sink in with the jury.
“The defense will claim that the shooting was justified because Mr. Delgado was shot during the commission of a crime for which he was convicted. That does not relinquish Officer Dean from following prescribed procedures.” She described how Grayson was demoted for failing to follow established procedures, and continued, painting him as a coldblooded, half-human with no respect for others and Delgado as a sacrificial lamb.
Grayson fought not to glare at the smirks she directed towards him.
“Officer Dean’s obsession with arresting Mexican immigrants is a long-standing problem and a racial component of this trial. We will prove that Officer Dean, an employee of Houston’s police force, breached all four basic elements of legal negligence.” Shannon counted them, holding up her fingers in front of the jury. Several jurors took notes.
She assured the jury that she would prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Grayson’s breach of duty directly caused the critical injury to her client, resulting in high medical bills and loss of income for her client’s lifetime.
“The city failed in its responsibility to oversee their employee’s conduct. The city did not ensure public safety. Officer Dean did not fulfill his duties in a professional manner.”
Shannon walked to Delgado in his wheelchair, his face sad, head lowered. She whirled and pointed at Grayson with her right index finger. “Officer Dean showed no sense of civic responsibility on that fateful day in the bank—a day that changed Mr. Delgado’s life immeasurably.”
She finished her opening salvo with dramatic psychological flourish, smearing Grayson as an out-of-control cop. Every juror condemned him as a monster before she was through.
“Officer Dean killed the other two bank robbers that day; then, filled with animosity towards Mexicans, he purposefully crippled Mr. Delgado. He breached his duty as a citizen of the United States and as a police officer of the Houston PD. Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you to listen to the testimony and find a verdict of guilty for the crippling of José Delgado. Thank you.”
Makeesha Evans, Grayson’s attorney provided by the police union, stood. “Good morning, your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury.” She walked and talked.
“Ms. Fisher’s emotional statements, designed to inflame everyone in the courtroom and place liability for Mr. Delgado’s injury on the City of Houston and, in particular, on my client, Officer Grayson Dean, are not fact-based. And facts, ladies and gentlemen, are the touchstone of our judicial system. You were expressly chosen to hear the evidence that will enable you to make an informed decision.”
Makeesha turned to José Delgado. “One fact is that Mr. Delgado was committing an illegal act when he was shot. Officer Dean responded to a call of bank robbery in progress, a very stressful and dangerous assignment.”
Makeesha looked to the jury but pointed at Delgado. “Another fact is Mr. Delgado is a convicted felon sentenced to Texas State Prison for the commission of that robbery.
“A fact: Mr. Delgado tried to shoot his way out of the bank, leaving Officer Dean no choice but to protect Houston citizens.
“A fact: Mr. Delgado endangered bank patrons with his gun.
“A fact: Mr. Delgado pointed his gun at Officer Dean, resulting in his own paralysis.”
Makeesha stared at Delgado for a full ten seconds and shook her head in silence.
“We will prove Officer Dean—a native son of our great city of Houston—a well-respected, exceptional police officer, a decorated Green Beret who served in Afghanistan and Iraq with distinction—operated within the bounds of proper police procedure when the incident occurred.”
The jury studied Grayson as she spoke, and their harsh demeanor from Shannon’s remarks relaxed, calming Grayson.
“Officer Dean has a pristine record with the police department and is a true patriot who chooses to protect the people of Houston. He is a brave man with a proven regard for the safety of civilians and police officers under his command.
“It is incu
mbent for law enforcement to make tough decisions under stressful conditions. Through extensive experience, Officer Dean deduced the best action at the bank that day. His decision to stop Mr. Delgado saved lives.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Delgado’s suit is a grievous misuse of the judicial system for financial gain by a convicted felon.
“I believe you—the people of Houston that Officer Dean protects daily—will do the right thing. You will see that the facts, not innuendos, necessitated Officer Dean’s professional actions during the bank robbery. His actions were in accordance with official Houston Police Department policies and procedures.”
~~~
As the plaintiff’s attorney, Shannon called her first witness, a professor of criminal law, to testify on proper police procedures in the use of force. She quizzed him about Grayson’s use of deadly force against Delgado and the two men shot during the robbery. Her expert was adamant that Grayson used unnecessary lethal force.
Makeesha cross-examined Shannon’s expert. “Professor, you teach criminal justice in a college classroom?”
“That’s correct.”
“Professor, have you trained or served as a law enforcement officer?”
He hesitated.
“Answer the question,” the judge ordered.
“No.”
“No, you haven’t been trained or served as a police officer?” Makeesha clarified.
“Correct.”
“Have you ever been in a gun fight?”
Shannon jumped to her feet. “Objection! Irrelevant!”
“Overruled. Answer the question.”
“No. Actually, I hate guns.”
“Is it fair to say your expertise comes solely from academic studies in classroom environments?”
“I’ve interviewed many police offi—“
“Professor, you’re not answering the question.” She looked at the judge.
