He interrupted the acting governor and Him. “Don’t you think we’re escalating this too far and too fast? After the assassination, we don’t enjoy the rock solid public support you think. A lot of people still believe we were behind that, despite your advertising blitz. I mean, have you seen this footage? Just look at all these people pouring out of Florida. The only ones coming in look like militia nutjobs!”
The Forbes “Man of the Year” finished fixing a drink for their guest and rested a well-manicured hand on Dimone’s shoulder. “You can’t see the forest through the trees! Don’t lose your nerve on me now. We have them on the ropes. Look at all these demonstrations nationwide! Hell, even in the president’s home state! The Administration’s support is crumbling around them. People weren’t even this fired up during the campaign.”
He waved at the press release on the table. “It’s political theater, that’s all. How’s it any different from when you shut down the government over a budget dispute? You do whatever it takes to force the other party to negotiate. It’s time to turn up the heat.” He was almost sexually excited.
“The president is barely standing. One strong push now and he’ll fall fast. Not to mention all those congressmen that fought against his impeachment. I even have it on good authority that two of the Justices will be retiring this year. All of this is too much stress for them. Good God, man! Don’t you realize what’s at stake? Stay the course now and our party can control all three branches of the government in one fell swoop! We’re making history here. Don’t piss that chance away over a few dead soldiers! How many have died far more pointlessly? Honor their memory by making sure they didn’t die in vain!”
Senator Dimone was as enraptured as a schoolchild. “Christ! I thought I was a cynical, calculating son-of-a-bitch. On the other hand, when you’re right, you’re right. Let’s do it then. Get it over with. Close the border and all the rest, but we have to play this carefully. No one else gets hurt, clear?”
They were so enthralled with the fun little details of their plotting that no one noticed one of the State Troopers step outside. As an ex-marine, loyalty ran deep with him. Sometimes though, disgust runs even deeper. He called an old buddy from the Service he heard was doing something for the CIA nowadays.
Los Angeles, CA
Sophie put the final touches on her picket sign as her father finally muted the TV and sauntered into the kitchen. “Honey, for the last time, don’t go out there with all those hippi…” he changed tack swiftly when she stabbed him with her eyes, “all those protestors. This isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before. I mean, this could be worse than Rodney King.”
She sighed and rolled her emerald green eyes. “We’ve been over this a hundred times, Dad. How can I sit back and let the president take over the country? This is a coup! It’s like something that would happen in Africa. Do you really want to see America run like a 3rd World military dictatorship?”
It was her father’s turn to roll his eyes. “Come on, you don’t believe those new political advertisements, do you? I raised you smarter than that. For every one calling the president a dictator there’s another one calling the Floridians terrorists and secessionists. Either way, this fight has nothing to do with us. Just don’t get involved. I’m begging you baby, please.”
For a moment the pleading in his voice almost swayed her. Unfortunately, a moment is not enough to hold a nineteen year old’s sense of righteousness at bay.
Some horn blared outside and cut off the growing battle. Sophie girded her already short brown hair into a tight ponytail and snatched her world-changing signs. “Ben’s here! I have to go. Look, we’ll be safe. I’m just trying to raise awareness, that’s all. Seriously, I’m not some type of revolutionary! Love you, Daddy. Bye.” She was out the door in seconds while he fantasized about putting his foot down.
She kissed her boyfriend and slid into his hybrid with her other friends. They left the suburbs and headed downtown like any normal weekend. They stumbled into a police barricade a good mile from where they intended to meet up with some college classmates. That should have been the first clue that things were bigger than they imagined.
Onward on foot they went, joining in with whatever group happened to be marching on that block. They chanted with the unemployed, cursed with the environmentalists, laughed with the gays… it was a great time with the regular crew. However, closer into town they began noticing new actors. The themes changed from broad social issues to narrow political ideas. In contrast to the professional protestors, the amateur crowds here voiced disturbingly specific complaints. Most ominously, they also had narrow and clear solutions.
Around the next corner Sophie’s gang took, a well-dressed and mostly middle-aged group demanded the president’s impeachment. In the blink of an eye they began cussing and shoving against a strikingly similar looking group demanding the arrest of so-called “traitors and murderers.” The youngsters were so enraptured by the sight of what could have been their parents fighting in the street like teenagers that they ignored the random gunshots in the distance. Even the faint whiff of burning plastic and oil was chalked up as just the smog.
The police were nowhere to be seen. In fact, throughout the city, they were spread thin on the ground. That was partly due to the sheer size of the unrest. The nation-wide call up of Reserve and National Guard personnel didn’t help either. Too many local cops were also weekend warriors. Of course, the single biggest drain on resources was the run of the mill criminals. From teenagers organizing “flash mobs” at stores to armed gangs clearing out banks, everyone took advantage of the situation. Hell, at that moment someone was stealing Ben’s car a mile away.
During this chaos the media stuck to their predefined narratives. Demonstrators on their smartphones, especially the young, gaped open-mouthed at images of cops elsewhere in the city rounding a corner in formation. They pumped out tear gas and beanbag rounds into the crowd as if paid per shell.
The image cut off for a moment and came back with several of officers firing live rounds at someone off screen. Unarmed protestors, according to the newscaster. Some bright boy at the studio had the award-winning idea to superimpose the president’s voice from a recent speech promising, “To do whatever it takes to restore law and order.”
There was no mention of the surprised gangbangers who, in panic at a wall of police officers trumping towards them, fired wildly at the law. In the rush to be the first with something different, the media had no time to explain such subtlety. The job for the police only got harder, but with every drop of blood some news outlet grabbed an extra “two share.” When the governor deployed the already mobilized National Guard, and Congress authorized limited use of federal troops as well, the media practically orgasmed.
Sophie had a change of heart when a separate phalanx of cops came within sight down the block they were trapped on. “Come on Ben, let’s get out of here.” Her boyfriend glanced from his IPhone to her and back again. Gone was the self-righteous bravado he was so well known for. “Okay, maybe you’re right.”
He tried hollering for their friends but they were all surging forward with the crowd of other youths. Sophie and Ben would have been caught up in it too, if she hadn’t shoved him into a nearby burger joint, one of the few stores still open. When tear gas canisters flew past the windows and their eyes watered, they didn’t hesitate. The two bolted out a back service door and onto a parallel street.