The Arrival

by J W Brazier

  BJ’s face twisted and he shook his head. “Mayor, sounds like you’re going all out on this, but remember … abortion is still legal.”

  “Yes, that’s true, but they’re not using proper disposal methods for bio-hazardous waste. The city police have received complaints of a horrible stench. They found more infant remains burned in a trash heap near the Dumpster. The center accepts cash payments, so it would seem that their primary motive is profit. Our informant supplied proof the clinics aren’t reporting their correct taxable income. It’s all under the table.”

  BJ gave a low whistle. “You’ve got guts, Mayor. I give you that.”

  Joshua shrugged. “People will say I’m stupid, BJ, for tackling the PC crowd’s golden goose. Abortion is about money. Its legal, yes, but these profiteers don’t deserve a free ride on the backs of taxpayers. They’re not immune from following the law. Take extra deputies with you and record every violation. Give the examiners plenty of time to do a thorough search.”

  BJ stood to leave just as the phone rang again.

  “Excuse me, Billy Joe.” Joshua picked up and said, “Yes, Shelby?”

  “Mr. Mayor, I have the governor holding for a conference call with you.”

  Joshua smiled. “Okay, Shelby, give me a few moments.” Joshua looked at BJ. “Talk to me later. I want to know what you find.”

  BJ nodded on his way out and shut Joshua’s door behind him. He saw Jim Moore, the sanitation superintendent, waiting in the reception area. The short, wiry man stood upon seeing the sheriff.

  “Mr. Moore, the mayor would like you to take a ride with me.”

  Jim was about to speak, but BJ stopped him.

  “Mr. Moore, are you an experienced plumber?”

  Jim looked perplexed. “Ahhh, yes, yes, I am, but what’s that—”

  “You have tools with you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  BJ put a hand on Jim’s shoulder and guided him toward the door. “Jim, you’re a treasure. We’re going to need those tools.”

  Jim Moore just shook his head in confusion as he followed BJ out the door.

  Back inside the mayor’s office, Joshua paged his secretary. “Shelby, put the governor’s call through, please.”

  Chapter 18

  Sitting in his patrol car in the parking lot of the municipal building, BJ’s big hands slammed at the steering wheel. He took a slow, deep breath to calm his rage and then exhaled. He’d spent two stressful hours arguing his evidence with the new district attorney, Roy Thornton.

  “Man, I hate arrogant politicians,” he whispered, feeling the need to speak aloud even though no one was listening. “They’ll say, promise, and do whatever it takes, short of prison, to advance their political careers.” He took another deep breath. “Weeks of work for nothing! I should’ve slapped that silly self-important smirk right off his arrogant face!”

  He whacked the steering wheel again, then he leaned his head back on the seat’s headrest and closed his eyes. The images of his gruesome discoveries from the abortion clinics would forever scar his memory. The pompous DA had thrown his hard evidence aside, demanding more—“All circumstantial, not solid enough,” he’d said.

  With his eyes closed, BJ replayed over and again their meeting, wondering what he could’ve said different or done to strengthen his evidence. When he grabbed the DA by his necktie and yanked the him across his desk, it had been unprofessional, sure. Anger had taken over and spurred that reaction. And Mayor Austin was not going to be happy that BJ had lost his temper. But Thornton had pushed him over the edge. BJ had told him that he believed certain public officials might be providing unethical and illegal protection. Wayne Haskell, Thornton’s infamous brother-in-law and owner of two of the abortion clinics, was at the top of that list.

  BJ had simply wanted to make sure the man understood his meaning—up close and personal. The necktie episode was an unfortunate mistake, and he felt bad about it, but not about what he’d said. Still, his physical rough treatment of the DA now ticked him off and could jeopardize their case.

  BJ opened his eyes and lurched upright at the sound of someone rapping on his window.

  “You okay in there, Sheriff?” a deputy named Mike asked, loud enough for him to hear.

  BJ released his death grip on the steering wheel and rolled down his window. “Yeah, sure, I’m okay, Mike, just taking a break,” he said, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes and face.

  Then the radio in the car crackled. “Dispatch to Sheriff Frazier, go to TAC 2. Dispatch to Sheriff Frazier, go to TAC 2.”

  Mike backed away from the BJ’s car. “Sheriff, if you need anything, you can call me—anything at all, you know that, right? I could meet up with you later.”

  BJ understood his deputy’s concerns and was grateful for officers with exemplary character. All of his deputies were new hires, qualified and eager to serve.

  “Sure … and thanks. I appreciate you checking on me, Mike. I’d like that. We’ll meet later and talk when we have free time.”

  His deputy smiled, walked back to his patrol car, and drove away. BJ adjusted the radio’s volume and grabbed the radio handset.

  “Sheriff Frazier to Dispatch.”

  “Sheriff, you wanted a reminder for your meeting today at GEM-Tech, and you need to call the mayor on his personal cell before you leave town.”

  “Roger that, Dispatch. Sheriff out.”

  Billy Joe punched a speed dial number on his cell phone.

  “Sheriff Frazier,” Joshua answered. “Thanks for the quick response.”

  “No problem, Mayor. Sir, dispatch said to call you right away. It sounded important.”

  “It is. Can you swing by and pick me up as soon as you can? I’ll meet you behind my office.”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  BJ backed out of his designated space and stepped on the gas for the exits. When he stopped for traffic, Roy Thornton and Wayne Haskell drove past in the DA’s new Mercedes convertible. Billy Joe stared at the two men as they passed. They smiled and waved, as if mocking his failure.

  “Laugh now, you SOBs. Your day of reckoning is coming, and I’ll be there—waiting.”

  *

  Joshua stuffed his arms into his suit coat as he hurried out of his office at a brisk stride for the back door. Shelby looked up as he passed her desk, giving him a curious look.

  “Miss Shelby, I’ll be out of pocket the rest of the day. You won’t be able to reach me. I’ll check with you before you leave this afternoon.”

  Shelby scribbled a note to herself, then said, “Mr. Austin, before I forget, an assistant to US Senator McRamsey hand-delivered a message for you earlier.”

  Joshua stopped and turned to face her while adjusting his shirt sleeves and suit jacket. “Read it to me, Shelby, please.”

  “‘Joshua, I want to thank you on behalf of my family. We appreciate your prayers, kindness, and help. Your prompt action with the hospital has helped our family in our time of grief with our son. I’ll call you at home tonight. Deep regards, your friend, Jeremiah.’”

  Joshua stared down at the floor, thinking about the McRamsey family. Then he looked up at Shelby and smiled. “Miss Shelby, on rare occasions, this job has its benefits.”

  She nodded and smiled back. “Sir, the decision you made, in my opinion, was right and ethical. It forced the hospital to rethink their horrid position. As for your career in politics, well, with all due respect, it’s gone down the toilet.”

  Joshua’s grin acknowledged to Shelby his unruffled position about his decision. “Yes, you’re right, but ain’t it cool to go down knowing your choices made a positive difference in others’ lives?”

  Shelby laughed and nodded.

  *

  Joshua exited the municipal building’s back door as Sheriff Frazier drove into the driveway and pulled to a stop. Joshua slid into the patrol car’s passenger side. BJ looked straight ahead. He offered nothing, not a greeting, a smile, or otherwise.

>   “You must’ve had a very bad day with the new DA, Sheriff?” Joshua asked without looking over at BJ.

  “Correct, sir. Not good, not good at all. Where we headed?”

  “GEM-Tech, BJ. I’d like to hitch a ride with you, if you don’t mind. I’ll explain on the way.”

  “Roger that, Mayor, not a problem.”

  Crossing the White River Bridge toward Ramsey Mountain, Joshua gazed out his window at the passing acres of river bottomland and watched farmers plow their fertile fields.

  “BJ, it’s clear that you’re upset and I feel responsible. You mind if we talk about it? I might can help.”

  “Upset … Yes, I am—No, I’m ticked off … a lot, but not at you, sir. And, no, I don’t mind talking. It couldn’t hurt.”

  “Good, then pull over at the lookout point on top the mountain.”

  BJ steered toward the exit and stopped. Joshua got out of the car first and ambled toward the visitors area, then stopped and stood by the safety railing. BJ sighed and followed. Joshua leaned on the railing and faced BJ.

  “Okay, BJ, here’s my first and last ‘I promise I won’t ever do it again’ sermon.”

  BJ smiled.

  “What do you see in those fields?” Joshua asked.

  “Farmers plowing fields. So … what’s your point Mayor?”

  BJ seemed a little annoyed by the question, yet interested.

  “My analogy is simple, BJ. Those farmers plow their ground year after year. Good or bad, they plow, plant, and care for their crops. They’re diligent, they don’t give up, they keep working their fields.”

  Joshua stopped talking and walked to a picnic bench, then sat down. BJ followed and sat across from him. Joshua pulled out a pack of gum and offered BJ a piece.

  “No, thanks.”

  Joshua continued. “BJ, in my opinion, public officials should represent all their constituency: the good, bad, and ugly—which, in my mind, includes infants murdered by abortionists. I’ve always considered abortion to be infanticide, but we swore an oath to uphold the law, even the ones we don’t agree with. But the unborn have no voice. Public officials shouldn’t be afraid to fight back, or voice their opinions—which brings me back to you and me. We fight back by using the law. We hold those profiting in infant blood within our domain to an accounting. Make them obey the law to the letter for that blood money. The law wielded in the right hands and manner is our weapon.”

  BJ gave a small nod.

  “Here’s a bit of trivia you might already know,” Joshua said. “It relates to how ideology and history repeats itself. Hitler had his courts declare the Jews to be nonhuman. Our Supreme Court defined new life in the mother’s womb as nonhuman. Strange analysis for supposed intellectuals, considering that, at a certain point—voila! That same nonhuman becomes a human. Odd decisions for nine justices, considering the Ten Commandments adorn the exterior of their building, plus the doors to the courtroom and the wall behind their bench.

  “Hitler’s Holocaust exterminated over six million Jews. America has slaughtered over fifty million supposed nonhuman infants, and our barbaric butchery continues. Same scenario, different targets. Makes you wonder what else a progressive ideology will target next. Perhaps guns, religion … the Constitution.”

  Joshua paused to let his words settle with BJ, who just sat there staring out toward the fields. Joshua could tell, though, that BJ’s mind was in full gear, so he went on.

  “The PC liberal progressives, like our new DA, have held political advantage for decades. They’ve influenced schools, universities, courts, and politics for a long time. Their agendas have shoved their PC social engineering approach down America’s throat. It’s as if Americans are prisoners of their own making and have become institutionalized, accepting their fate like a guilty convict.

  “Finally, though, some Americans appear to be waking up—and they are fighting mad, BJ. They’ve recognized their government is out of control, bordering on tyranny. It’s assaulting our constitutional freedoms, like rats gnawing on cheese—legislative bit by bit. There’s going to be a reckoning, a house cleaning in Washington DC, and spread to every state. It’s coming.”

  Joshua stood and BJ looked up at him.

  “You get my point, BJ. Don’t get discouraged. Keep at it. You’re not alone.”

  BJ smiled and stood, and the two of them walked to the patrol car and drove away, again headed for GEM-Tech.

  Joshua said nothing, giving BJ all the time he needed to weigh what he’d said.

  Finally, a minute down the road, BJ spoke: “I appreciate your encouragement back there, Mayor. It’s frustrating and difficult investigating with your hands tied.”

  Joshua laughed. “You’re speaking to the choir, my friend. Welcome to the frustrations of my world. In my opinion, Americans have to wake up and fight back. Until then, we’ll have to let the motto ‘In God We Trust’ fight for us. He’s good at it.”

  “You’re right, Mayor. You’re saying what’s on the mind of many Americans. Come election time, they’ll make their voting choices heard loud and clear.”

  “We can only hope, because elections do have their consequences. For example: our do-nothing Senate, Congress, and weak president …”

  Joshua’s voice trailed off. He turned to look out the window.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” BJ said.

  Joshua turned and saw that BJ’s face had lit up.

  “Here’s a bit of good news, Mr. Mayor. I may have help with our investigations from an inside source. If it plays out, we’ll have an eyewitness. Couple that with forensics, and our DA will have to act or go down with everyone that’s involved.”

  “Really? An eyewitness! Are you sure or are you just fishing, hoping to scare someone into testifying in court?”

  Sheriff Frazier grinned. “Neither. She’s the real deal. The woman I’m talking about, I recognized during our clinic inspections. She lives in our neighborhood. My wife introduced us during a neighborhood cookout. This is the interesting part: she just so happens to work a rotation at both the Southside and Westside clinics. Anyway, she called my wife this morning wanting to speak with me. Lauren asked why. She said, ‘Tell your husband it’s about the abortion clinics and the deaths of two young girls and their babies.’”

  Joshua pumped a fist and nodded. “Could it be that she knows more than the investigation reported?”

  BJ gave a little shrug with his right shoulder. “Can’t say for sure, but I’ll know more tonight. The woman’s coming to my home for a meeting.”

  “If this woman corroborates the forensics report, and will testify in court, that’s huge. It would mean our medical examiner left out relevant details about the cause of deaths.”

  “Yes—and perhaps on purpose. He wasn’t a wealth of information. It’s a good possibility he’s afraid of repercussions. If that’s the case, then he’s ignoring the evidence and covering up because he’s paid to look the other way.”

  The sheriff was about to continue, but then he surprised Joshua by pulling off the road at a rest stop. He parked and got out of the car. Joshua didn’t know what BJ had in mind, but followed anyway. BJ stood in front of the patrol car and faced Joshua.

  “Okay, Mayor, you’re riding with me for a reason. You said you’d explain, but you haven’t said anything. I get this distinct feeling you know more, so fill me in on what you haven’t disclosed.”

  Joshua nodded. “I was waiting to get closer, but this will do. BJ, what we’re about to witness at this GEM-Tech meeting, it scares me. In the coming days and weeks, White River will experience things never imagined in America.”

  Joshua took a few steps away from the car, considering his next statements. BJ waited, his eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened.

  Joshua turned around and began again. “Not long after my election, the governor requested that I meet with him at his cabin in Heber Springs. The meeting, or so he said, pertained to the terrorist training exercise we’re seeing unfold in White River. The suspicio
us undertones of what we discussed bother me. I could be wrong, but it could be a prelude to another coming event.”

  At that, BJ raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m convinced that my presence there was to test the water—as in, to evaluate me. Would I cave and be a team player, or a problem? The governor alluded several times to conservatives, malcontents, and Christians in particular as potential problem makers during the exercise.

  “I also met another unsavory character there with deep connections within the United Nations and the White House—a Mr. Abram Solomon. The governor appears to get his marching orders from that guy.”

  Joshua paused to wait for the highway noise of several big diesel truck-and-trailer rigs to pass, but then BJ cleared his throat.

  “Mayor, I’m no politician, but I know criminals. From what you’ve suggested, this exercise is sounding more like cover-up and misdirection. The exercise could be masking the real ulterior motive to net a bigger reward, like those with agendas you mentioned earlier.”

  “Yes, and you’d be right, because that’s my impression. History, as I said, has a way of repeating itself, lest we forget. You and I have served in the military, so we’ve seen it firsthand. What are the first orders of business with despotism? Silence opposition with propaganda in overdrive, disarm your citizens, and control the economy.

  “In order for despotism to seize control without anarchy, you need to know how the people will react—how many freedoms they’ll give up and how far can you push them. Those unknowns are problematic. You need to know. Information of that kind is vital to plan and make your next big move. Disinformation, control goods and services, confiscate guns using military strength … these are your weapons of choice.

  “Those in government and business who want to transform and reshape America’s fundamentals into their warped progressive image, they smell blood in the water—America’s blood. Like hungry sharks, they see she’s wounded, and can taste opportunity.