Shots Fired in the Melting Pot

by T. C. Clover

three weeks ago, the show has turned into a study of the nuts and bolts behind terrorism. In fact, all of our recurring guests were victims of terror. Now, today is special because we have Richard Orton joining us after his recent recovery from a local hospital.” The camera turned to show a forced smile on Richard’s face before panning back to the host. “We also have Jazzy Auburn Michelle, Cody K. Black or CKB, Fassim Johnson, and Stoney Akuda on our panel today. Please welcome all of these brave souls to our show.” James Iverson paused for the studio audience to applaud his guests and saluted them with a sharp hand gesture.

  The television stars sat around the host at a rectangular oak table. All of them looked healthy and normal except for Richard, who seemed depressed as he stared through the center of the table in a daze.

  “Okay, well, let’s start with you, Richard,” James prompted his guest with gentle social energy. “Litz Rack was someone with whom you had become intimately involved, and it seemed like you cared for her. Then she literally burned you by setting off an explosion in your face. Oh, and let me refresh the audience on the facts. A pair of assassins attacked these amazing people you see sitting at my table, and Richard pursued them. And, during the pursuit, the ex-CIA agents placed a magnetic pod on a metal doorway. The pod was about the size of the palm of your hand and was filled with ANFO. For those of you who don’t know, ANFO stands for aluminum nitrate fuel oil. It is very easy to make or obtain, and can blow apart just about anything.” The host smiled and turned away from the camera back to Richard, appearing to enjoy the sound of his voice. “So, Richard, this woman burned you and seduced you with her feminine charms; what-“

  “Let me stop you right there,” Richard replied as he raised his right hand toward the host. “Too many journalists have used the catchphrase that I was ‘burned by this woman,’ and I find the use of that phrase to be in poor taste. Someone had called me before I went downstairs, and they called me again before I opened the door. The person on the other end of that phone was male, but he warned me about the danger and told me to go back to the loft. Now, for me, the only explanation for that type of a warning would be Litz trying to save my life.” He tugged nervously at a black tie that encircled the neck of his white button-down dress shirt and finished his announcement with an expression of deep sorrow.

  “So, are you saying that you forgive them for what they did to you?” The television host suggested and cocked his head back in preemptive shock.

  “Hell no,” Richard answered in rapid fashion. “I spent three weeks in the hospital, and without the protection of that steel door, we wouldn’t be talking today. If the door had moved even six inches to the right, my head would've taken the blast. I’m not excusing the behavior of these people, but I don’t want any of the facts withheld for sensationalism. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes it does, Richard,” James answered in a condescending way and turned to face the other cast members. “We appreciate your bravery as much as your honesty. Now, I want to get to Jazzy and Fassim; you ladies were both friends with Litz, correct?” The host continued with a brief hand gesture toward the two women.

  “I wasn’t her friend,” Fassim replied from under a light blue hijab before Jazzy could open her mouth. “She was a very odd woman and not traditional enough to be considered one of my friends. Also, as a moderate Muslim, I am required to denounce all acts of terrorism around the world. While I do understand that this person underwent a severe tragedy, it should never have led to the destruction of her soul. I hope that they capture her and make this right.” The paparazzi photographer pounded her right fist on the table and turned to look at Jazzy.

  “I was really shocked when we found out what Litz had done,” Jazzy stated, and leaned forward in an orange blouse with her hands clasped together. “When she went missing at NASA headquarters, we were worried that someone had abducted her. All of us got together and formed a search party – we were sick. But when I found out what she’d done to those innocent people, I was…beyond sick.”

  “Thank you for those perspectives, ladies,” the host said with a nod and gestured toward CKB and Stoney. “Gentlemen, you lived with Litz Rack for several weeks and got to know a lot about her; what are your thoughts on these events?”

  “We need to lock her up in a mental hospital,” Stoney conveyed with a shrug that raised and lowered his plain white T-shirt. “I mean, there are two types of criminals in our society; those who know what they did wrong and those that can’t tell the difference. I think that she was traumatized to the point where…I don’t know.” The Japanese officer shrugged again and opened up his hands on the table before letting them drop onto its surface.

  “Yeah, and I’d say that everyone deserves a chance at redemption,” CKB proclaimed to the camera. “I’ve seen people come back from worse places in their lives, and - it’s just too hard to say. But she needs to stop what she’s doing. Making innocent people pay for your pain is wrong. I think that history has shown that when you do right by the universe, it does right by you. But when you mess with the natural system; things catch up to you…eventually.”

  “Well, there’s a lot of mystery surrounding this woman, and the details are still coming in, but the consensus from the public is-“

  The television host continued to speak as Headmistress Mary removed the earbuds from her ears and pushed a button on the tablet to turn the screen black. She leaned forward and closed her eyes while taking in a deep breath. The guilt-ridden woman teased her brunette hair during a moment of nervous primping, before sliding the tablet and earbuds into a small drawer in the front of her desk. Her gaze went far beyond the children in the classroom as she leaned back in her chair to reflect on the past.

  Mary sat forward in her seat when she saw a man in a gray suit entering the front door of the classroom. A seventeen-year-old girl named Cynthia, who had long blonde pigtails and worked as an aid in the front office escorted the man through the classroom. After walking the length of the room and stumbling a bit in front of Satoko, Cynthia presented the man to the headmistress.

  Satoko kept reading to the children about three Billy goats trying to cross a bridge, but altered her gaze to observe the well-dressed man. The thirty-nine-year-old Japanese woman rolled her dark brown eyes at the stranger and pushed a pair of horn-rimmed glasses closer to the bridge of her nose. She then flipped a page in the storybook and continued to read aloud. Her voice was powerful despite the petite body from whence it emerged.

  “Headmistress Mary, this is John Butler of the FBI,” Cynthia announced with her right hand outstretched as though she were introducing a comedy act. “Someone called him with an anonymous tip about our school, and he wanted to talk to you about it.” The office aid shrugged after this brief introduction and gave an awkward bow before vacating the area.

  Before Mary could speak, the FBI agent retrieved a photo from his jacket and held it up to compare it with her face. The headmistress' nose and ears differed from the picture of Litz Rack, but her high cheekbones and other features were a close match. The woman also had fifteen pounds of extra weight on her body in comparison to the photo, but it was still a close enough match to investigate.

  “Ma’am, I’m gonna’ need you to come with me to answer some questions,” John commanded from his position in front of Mary’s desk and clasped his hands over a large, silver belt buckle. “We need to know if you have any information about terrorist activities in the United States. If we find that you’re innocent, you’ll be welcome to return to your work at the school.”

  “That’s a bunch of garbage!” Satoko exclaimed when she heard what the FBI agent was saying. “My sister-in-law is no terrorist!” The older woman lamented from her position on a metal stool at the front of the classroom. “Why don’t you leave her alone so that she can help these kids that your government left orphaned?” She asked with a shaky lower jaw while using her right hand to ruffle her thick locks o
f long black hair.

  “Ma’am, can you prove that this is your sister-in-law?” John proposed with his right hand extended toward Mary. “Do you have indisputable proof that this woman is your relation? Because if she’s not, you’ll be considered an accessory after the fact, and we’ll put you in prison for aiding a federal fugitive. Even at your age, the law applies, so I hope you have some strong proof.” He placed his hands on his hips and stared at the Japanese woman with defiance radiating from his deep blue eyes.

  “Why don’t you just look at the faculty photos next to her desk?” Satoko offered with sarcasm followed by an outburst of laughter that ended in a cackle. “You people are so good with your hamburger eyes, but mine are better today,” she said in a celebration that elicited nervous giggling from the students. “Those photos go back for the past five years, and my sister-in-law is in all of them. Do you really think we’d make someone headmistress if they’d been here for a year or two?” The Japanese woman chuckled and slapped her angular left knee beneath a thick denim dress.

  “This isn’t going to work,” the agent said after a closer inspection, gesturing