“Of course he was distracted Professor! And why do you think that is?” He stops his pacing and looks at her. His eyes are fierce and almost glowing against the black paint, “I mean, just the thought of graduating and leaving this pathetic place became something way too difficult for him to consider. How in the world could he make it outside of these walls?”
Joanna is overwhelmed and starts to raise her voice, without even noticing. She lets go of the pen and paper and they fall to the floor. She tries to wriggle in frustration but she is tied too tightly. “I don’t know what you mean! I was good to Jeremy, I loved having him in my classes!”
“Your classes?” Captain asks, “That’s funny.”
Joanna is thinking that the two men are just crazy because this has nothing to do with her but then Sarge screams out, “THIS IS MY SON!”
Everything stops and goes silent. She looks to him in shock. She’s wondering, but knows, that whatever this is, just got much worse.
He takes a big breath and continues, “My son was arrested five times in one year for protesting. Protests YOU encouraged him to go to! The stress from those arrests and the protesting alone caused his anxiety to skyrocket! He never even HAD anxiety before!”
He starts pacing and walking around Joanna, “My son came out a mess.” He holds the picture in front of her again, “This student…because of his anxiety became addicted to prescription drugs. This school and all it’s prestigious and respected work, scrambled his brain!”
He tapes the picture on the end of the line of pictures showing Jeremy’s life, “Look at my son! Look at him, growing up with big dreams! He was set to take over his grandfather’s company you know.”
He walks back and forth along the photos, “He was the one to carry on the family business.” He stops at the last picture, “But what did we get instead? Legal bills from the crimes and disturbances my son participated in, on YOUR behalf, that I cannot pay. Medical bills for his anxiety and depression, and therapy bills that are out of control, BECAUSE of this school and your teachings. Massive school loans I now owe from a dream he never finished!”
He walks back over to Joanna, “The worst part is that the values I have taught my son over the many years I spent raising went to shit. You ruined all that. When he left here and all was said and done, he might as well have been five years old for God’s sake!”
He starts shaking her and screaming in her face, “You wanna talk about my son? YOUR good student? He couldn’t come back to school and he most certainly couldn’t work!” Still screaming, he continues, “Want to hear some funny stories of Jeremy on interviews? Well now, let’s see…he lost one because he refused to call himself an American, one because he couldn't spell while taking a simple interview exam and one because he cried during the interview! Why did he cry? The guy asked what he thought of the weather they were having and my son was offended!”
Joanna is out of words. Her work was good! She doesn’t understand. She is devastated. She sees the rage in these men. They are out for revenge. And she’s it.
“Well, this sick, depressed and anxious little protestor of yours couldn’t be helped!” He takes a flyer from her bag and shakes it in her face, “Not enough Cry-ins in the world could’ve saved this boy!”
Joanna is thinking the unthinkable, “No!” she cries out, “No! Wait! Is he?”
“You’re damn right bitch! He’s DEAD!” He pulls the crumpled article out of his pocket. He unfolds it and holds it up for Joanna, “He killed himself! Spent the night reviewing footage of protests and my wife found him lying in bed with his school books all around him. Shot himself with my 9 mm!”
He puts the article back in his pocket. Joanna gasps and is screaming so hard, barely any sound coming out at first, but then she starts screaming and yelling again, “No, no, no!”
“Oh yes Professor! Shot himself in the face,” he puts the paper back and his face close to hers, “probably couldn’t face the degraded man he became after being at your school and in your precious classes!”
“Wait! No! I loved Jeremy!” she is sobbing and blubbering her way through her words, “Please! What can I do? I didn’t realize!” She’s coughing again, “I was trying to help them!”
“Help them? You are ruining them!” Sarge screams at her.
She didn’t even notice that Captain took a stand behind her. He starts undoing the rope around her neck. It loosens, but he keeps a hold on it.
She is now desperate, “What are you going to do?” She squeezes her eyes shut, knowing that any hope she had has left the building.
“I think you know,” Sarge tells her. He points to the pictures on the white board. Joanna is crying hysterically. “LOOK, at his life, the life you stole from him…from all of us!”
Captain tightens the rope, just enough for her to feel real pressure. She starts to gag.
“Look!” Sarge screams again.
She does look. She sees the infant in a blanket and the bright-eyed boy with his award. She taught him, but then she took him down a path. Her eyes are feeling the pressure from the strangulation. She can barely see the picture of the sick boy. She starts to gurgle and sucks in one more breath…and then releases it.
Captain lets go of rope, “Her path of destruction ends here Sarge,” he says, “this one’s for the boy.”
*****
The two are long gone before anyone finds her. The Warden kept a good watch, his debt to his uncle served.
When she is finally found the next morning, it is quite the sight. The Professor, in her own lecture hall, sitting with her pen and paper in hand. She is still tied to the chair, head down and half-naked, stripped down to a mere victim like so many of her students. Students that will soon be set free from their educational walls of security. No more puppies and safe rooms. No more cry-ins or missed exams.
The pictures are all gone as with any trace of Jack or Max. All that is left behind is one poker chip on the podium, and a message written out on the white board:
DO WHAT YOU DO, AND YOU WILL GET WHAT YOU DESERVE
Cop Lives Matter
Chapter One: Game Over
CNN:
Recently an Alabama detective was pistol-whipped to within an inch of his life because he says he hesitated to use force lest he be the next headline.
*****
The game wrapped up and it was now time to discuss the winner. Not about who won at poker but what they would do next.
They would discuss topics and issues that are so big, no one is immune. Although one may like to believe it, the fabricated walls of protection built by money, politics and power, are no safeguard.
If you’ve done it, if you’ve been a part of it…you should know… they may be coming for you.
Chapter Two: The Protest
Fox News:
Meanwhile, protests and riots against the police were gathering force across the country, all of them steeped in anti-cop vitriol ... “What do we want? Dead cops,” chanted participants in a New York anti-cop protest.
*****
“Fry’em like bacon!”
“Put the pigs in the ground!”
The protest chants rang loud across Portland and continued throughout the day in one of the biggest anti-cop protests the city had ever seen. The activists appeared unstoppable as their wave of destruction and hits against the police blew through the streets.
The protesters came armed with bats, crowbars, flares, rocks, bricks…you name it. One officer lost teeth after having a heavy piece of metal thrown at him, another suffered broken vertebrae when a brick was thrown down on him and yet another suffered brain injury from more projectiles. For those putting on the madness, the violence proved only to be more motivating as the day went on, but for those on the other side, it was vicious.
This crowd held nothing back, and nothing was off limits. Even if you weren’t a cop, if you weren’t for the cause, you entered at your own risk. Some, like retiree Sandy Huber, had the unfortunate experience of taking
in the lesson.
For the most part, she stayed behind the large crowd, watching in amazement as it moved along yelling and wrecking everything in sight until something in particular caught her eye. She walked up slowly to observe an American flag that lay on the sidewalk, on fire. She stopped and stood there and watched a lifetime of respect and courage for her country, be trampled on and burned before her eyes.
Her husband had been a policeman until he was shot and killed one week before retirement. Today, the woman came to the “rally” wearing his officer ring to show her loyalty for her husband, and all the men in blue. She didn’t like the new America that seemed to surround her, full of division and hostility. She wanted her old America, the one she believed in for so long.
Today was a day she didn’t want to miss. It was a chance to stand up for those on the receiving end of so much hatred. She even wore her MAGA hat with the hopes that America could in fact be great again.
The ring, the hat, her allegiance to the flag…it was all too much. There was no room for those who supported cops, or any sort of law and order. Everything she stood for, was everything they were against. Before she knew it, she had three men dressed all in black surrounding her.
“What’s your problem lady?” A man plants his face in front of hers, removing her big round sunglasses. He takes her hat and throws it into the fire with the burning flag. He pulls her by her hair and throws her to the ground.
As firecrackers go off behind her, he leans down and screams in her face, “You are all the same!”
Another one notices the ring on her finger and grabs her hand, “Pig lover!” he yells. He pulls off the ring and throws it into the fire where her hat is. She looks up to him and is about to speak but doesn’t get the chance. The one man starts kicking her, and others follow.
She’s getting it from all sides, and it doesn’t take much before the 70-year-old passes out completely. The fact that this woman is elderly is of little consequence for this group. They are there spread to the violence, attack police and any of their supporters, and do what they can to destroy the town. And that’s how it all went down.
As devastating as it all was for Portland, the day couldn’t have been a bigger success for those putting on the madness. Only when the police fought back with tear gas and stun grenades did the crowd finally start to die down. For those instigating the problems all that meant was that their workday was coming to an end, and it was time to get paid.
Chapter Three: The Success!
Sean Hannity:
Many police officers are resigning, seeking other professions,” he said. “Why do we continue do our job when we have thankless individuals out here who don’t respect us, who are very defiant, very disobedient, determined to do what they want to do.
- Maryland Sheriff Mike Lewis
*****
“That was amazing! Did you see that Pig go down?” exclaims Devon, one of the protest’s main players.
“Sure did!” Mason tells his friend, “We are unstoppable. I love this shit man!” Running on pure adrenaline, the two young men can barely contain themselves. “When do we get paid?”
“Let’s find out,” Devon breaks out his cell phone as they walk and calls their contact, David. He’s the guy who pays them after a job. “Hey boss…you know it…we are about to head out…Right…” he stops and holds the phone away from his ear so that Mason can also hear.
“You know the drill. When the big man pays me, I’ll pay you!”
“Okay, got it,” Devon responds, putting the phone back to his ear as David ends the call. Devon puts his phone back in his pocket and turns to Mason, “Now we just wait for the money, and it’s time to go!”
The two young men take one last look back on the path of destruction they will leave behind. They never leave together in order to avoid being caught together. If one gets picked up, the other knows what to do. They nod in agreement and then take off in different directions.
*****
David Bryson hangs up the phone and takes a sip of his scotch, curling his toes in the carpet, “Success!” he calls out even though no one is there to hear him. He sits down and opens his laptop, and flips on the TV to catch the latest.
He listens to the anchor and her updates:
“Several cops were injured in the violence. We currently have no updates on their conditions; however, no police deaths have been reported thus far.
“The extensive damage to the city is deemed the most destructive this year as protesters and activists took their stance against law enforcement.”
David settles in and starts to put together his close-out email, like he does after every one of the events he manages. The email is to the big man, the big money man that is. He’s the one in charge, providing the funds and helping to manage the resources that make events like today possible.
He’s a billionaire with a resume that includes things like Financier, Investor, Economist, and Philanthropist. His wealth, visibility, and business dealings attract a lot of attention, and so he keeps a healthy distance from things like today. He uses crews on the ground to do the dirty work while he stays far away and under the radar. He’s the guy that has the money, and will spend the money, to keep their presence known and keep the movement going forward.
Some people question why the big man is so active in working against the very country that gave him his wealth and support, but not David. To him, it’s all good because along with his street soldiers, the paycheck at the end of the day makes up for any misplaced values. Today, they had 73 of their guys out there and things only seem to be getting better. More and more young people are coming out of the woodwork wanting to participate and that means the events can keep going, and the money will keep rolling in.
David gets his email sent and feels good. He’s about to down the rest of his scotch when he notices the time and realizes he needs to get moving. Although David moonlights as an “event manager” his real job is an independent news analyst and he has an interview in an hour. He’s due to meet CNN to share information on any latest developments with regards to the anti-cop movement, and to give an update on today’s affairs.
“Ah, I love the counterfeit news network!” he laughs, pushing his scotch to the side and grabbing his wristwatch instead, “These guys will eat up anything for a good story, this will be fun!”
Just by looking at David, one would never know how conniving and soul-less the man really is. He’s got the perfect east coast prim and proper look. He’s slim and good looking, with the hair of a Kennedy and a smile that will catch your eye. Behind it all though he’s just another greedy guy trying to take as much as he can get. He loves the interviews because it gets him screen time where he can show off his knowledge and of course, he gets paid for it!
He is staying downtown at the Paramount Hotel and doesn’t have far to go. When he’s all cleaned up and put together, he packs up his briefcase and heads down to the garage where his ride should be waiting for him.
Sure enough, there is a black sedan and a man standing by the the car holding the passenger door open. The two acknowledge each other and David gets in, pumped and ready to get going. But that’s not what happens.
The minute he’s in, and his door is shut, the driver leaves and is replaced by someone dressed all in black. The doors are locked, and not even another second goes by before David is knocked in the head from behind, and knocked out.
Chapter Four: The Meet
ABC News:
With the number of applicants down more than 90 percent in some cities, police departments may soon be posting more signs that say “Help Wanted” instead of “Most Wanted.”
*****
David starts to come to and realizes that he has a person on either side of him and is being dragged by the shoulders. He tries to catch his footing, but his headache is ringing loud and he’s still pretty out of it. To top it off, his head is covered and he can’t see a thing.
He’s thrown into a chair, “Who
’s there?” David calls out.
“What do you know, he’s awake! Well, welcome back Amigo,” The voice is unfamiliar and David is surprised it’s female, and Hispanic. He hears the woman walk from one side of him to the other, and then he can feel that his legs are being tied together at the ankles.
Did she just call me Amigo? The term, and the woman, catch David off guard.
“What is this? What am I doing here?” he wants to know.
“You are here because you seem to have a small problem with this great country that you live in!”
His shirt is ripped off, and then he’s then quickly hoisted to his feet. His arms are pulled out to the sides and he feels his watch being taken off his wrist. It's replaced with some sort of leather cuff. His other arm is secured at the same time. The two strangers adjust a few things, and David’s arms are soon stretched out to the sides even further.
He feels the tie around his neck loosen, and then the woman removes the cover. He takes a large gulp of air before really noticing what’s around.
He’s in a room, in what looks like a basement somewhere. There are pipes overhead, and he can hear what sounds like steam in the background. It’s dark for the most part, aside from the bright light that hangs above him, his briefcase and phone on the floor a small distance in front of him. He also sees his phone has been smashed.
“What the hell? Get me out of this!” he screams, attempting to shake himself free. The wrist cuffs and tight chains that are holding up his arms don’t allow for much movement though, much less an escape. He gets nowhere and only ends up struggling himself right out of breath.
Checking out his two attackers, he sees they are both dressed all in black. The woman has her dark hair in a long pony tail, and he can see the other one is a man who is quite large. Their faces are hidden behind dark bandana’s decorated like the American flag and they have camouflage paint around their eyes. They are standing directly in front of him.
American Hypocrites: Short Series of Graphic Revenge Page 6
