by JL Curtis
As the old man glanced at it, Myers slid behind Spears and barked, “Tell whoever is holding my folks out back to let them go and maybe they won’t go to prison for assaulting a federal officer.”
The old man glanced up at Myers, then resumed reading. “Hey, Clay, come get a load of this one!”
Clay walked through the doorway from the kitchen and across to where the old man was standing. He handed him the papers, and they both took a step of separation.
Now, both Spears and Myers had three things to watch, two old men and one growling German Shepherd. Clay flipped through the second document, and pulled out his cell.
Myers yelled, “No phone calls old man!” But Clay ignored him. Dialing he waited and then said, “Hey Major, Boone here, you know anything about a federal raid tonight? No? Well if you’re in the area, you might want to drop by Cronin’s place, ‘cause there’s one in progress here right now.” He listened for a minute, and then hung up.
Turning to the old man Clay said, “John it appears they want to arrest you, Jesse and both Marines for murder. And they want all your guns, too… And this is a fed warrant, not a state one. Oh yeah, and the major will be here in ten… I say we invite them in, and everybody get comfy while we wait on the major.”
The old man turned to Clay. “Well, this is your jurisdiction, if that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.” With that, he told Rex to heel, opened the door and invited Myers and Spears in.
As they came through the door, Myers was steaming. He’d totally lost control of the situation and Spears had seen it all. Should have shot the damn dog to begin with, he thought.
Spears looked closely at the two old men and realized both of them had badges on, and guns that she hadn’t seen because of the backlighting. At that point, her knees got weak when she realized how close they’d come to a gun battle that she wasn’t sure they would have won.
Myers demanded, “You better let my men go, and right fucking NOW!” The old man sauntered through the kitchen and Myers could see him leaning out the back door. He said something loudly, but Myers couldn’t understand whatever gobbldegook the old bastard was speaking. Whatever it was, he sounded amused, and that just pissed Myers off further.
The old man turned to Myers. “Now you tell your folks to come in the back nice and polite, cause if they don’t I’m not going to be responsible for what happens out there.”
Myers spoke softly into his boom mike, and the rest of the team started trickling in the back door.
Spears looked around the kitchen and realized there were three women and one Hispanic male all sitting calmly at the table eating ice cream and pie. A chill ran down her back as she realized they not only weren’t frightened, they purely did not care that there was a Tac team in the house. She’d never seen this level of calm during a raid, and she started to wonder what they’d gotten themselves into.
McClintock came in abashed with a stain in his crotch helping an obviously woozy Bronson. The older Hispanic woman pointed the two of them at two worn wooden chairs by the door with a sniff of disdain. Then she turned to the room and asked, “Would anyone like coffee or iced tea, or some pie or ice cream?”
The old man looked at Myers stopping any response. “I’m John Cronin, this is my grand-daughter Jesse Cronin, and we are the only two on this warrant who are present. Neither I nor my grand-daughter knows the present whereabouts of either of these other individuals. Since I’m assuming this is in relation to the shoot out on Sunday, this search warrant is invalid since it does not correctly reflect the weapons used which are what you are here to collect.”
He threw the warrants on the counter and picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. Jesse nodded, and gave the old man a thumb’s up hidden by the table. He grinned for a second, and turned back to Myers.
“No, we’re going to take all your guns, every damn one of them,” Myers sneered.
“We don’t know how many of them have been used in other murders, so we’re going to take them all.”
The old man just cocked his head. “Really? You really want every gun?”
Myers raised his chin and glared at the old man, and John noticed the slight fat roll of an impending double chin poking out from underneath the man’s chin strap. “Yes, that’s why it was written the way it was,” Myers responded superciliously.
Shaking his head, the old man walked out of the kitchen. “I’m going to the bathroom, you want to come watch?”
Myers turned red, but didn’t rise to the bait. The old man went into the little bathroom in the hall, took a leak and turned on the water. He quickly took out his phone, typed a quick text to Billy Moore, washed his hands, and felt his phone vibrate. He saw “K, OTW” on the screen. He smiled, put the phone back in its holster and returned to the kitchen.
Spears walked over to the older Hispanic lady. “Ma’am may I have some pie please?”
“Certainly,” Juanita replied. “My name is Juanita. Would you like ice cream with that?”
“Please, Juanita.” Myers glared daggers at both of them but Spears just shrugged. What the hell, it smelled good, and this whole op was blown. Might as well get something out of it, she thought, as she made a mental note to request transfer the hell out of Texas. This was definitely not like New York.
Everyone heard a siren coming closer, then shutting off and a door slamming. Rex never moved, staying at Jesse’s side and totally focused on Myers. A knock on the door followed shortly and the old man walked to the living room. “Come on in, major, we’re all in the kitchen.”
A second siren was now heard in the distance as the Major stepped into the house and shook the old man’s hand. “John, I called the sheriff. I figure he didn’t get notified either, so that should be him. I’ll just wait until he gets here.”
“Thanks for coming, major. Can I offer you some pie and ice cream?”
Major Wilson burst out laughing. “God, John, you are one ballsy SOB!” At that point, the sheriff came up on the porch, and the old man told him to come on in.
The three of them walked into the kitchen, which was now almost full and presented almost a surreal scene, between the women and Francisco sitting quietly at the table drinking coffee, a Tac team standing nervously around the room and Ranger Clay Boone leaning against the sink, sipping a cup of coffee.
Major Wilson glared around. “Who’s in charge here?”
Myers tried to reassert himself. “I am,” he said. “This is a federal search warrant. Who the hell are you?”
Pulling his jacket back, Major Wilson reached for his credentials and said quietly, “Son, watch your mouth. For your information, I’m Ranger Wilson, and I’m the senior man in Company E Texas Rangers, which means you’re in my jurisdiction without my knowledge, running some kind of raid, and that is not done. Now, let me see all of your credentials.”
Myers reared back, “I don’t have to show you shit, I’m a federal officer, and…”
Wilson’s .45 was pressed between Myers’ eyes, and he said in a very quiet voice, “Either show me creds or go to jail for impersonating an officer of the law, and if you reach for anything other than your credentials I will spread your brains all over Mr. Cronin’s kitchen and apologize later. Do you understand me?”
Spears looked on in amazement, hardly believing that old man got a pistol out that quickly, and looking around, realized the other Ranger, Cronin and his grand-daughter were all smiling and none of them had anything in their hands. The hair on the back of her neck started standing up, and she very carefully reached for her badge and ID and pulled them out of her vest and handed them to Ranger Boone.
He nodded with a smile and motioned with his head, and she collected all of the other IDs and brought them back to him. Myers finally reached in his vest and pulled out his ID and Wilson removed it from his fingers without ever moving the .45.
Clay motioned with his head, and Spears walked over and took Myers ID and brought it back to Ranger Boone.
Clay shuffled
through the IDs and said, “Major, that’s Myers, Rodney, agent, DHS, one each. No rank given.”
Wilson re holstered his pistol and glared at Myers. “Now what in the hell are you doing in my jurisdiction without notice?”
Clay handed his boss the two search warrants, and the major read rapidly through them. Handing them to the sheriff, he considered Myers. “What is this all about? This looks more like a damn fishing expedition than a real warrant, and it doesn’t specify which guns you’re going to take.”
At that point, the old man broke in, “Major, he says all of them to see how many have been used in murders.”
Major Wilson smiled at Myers. “Do you realize what you’re getting into son? Do you have any idea how many guns are in this house?”
Myers spat back, “Oh maybe twenty, maybe thirty; and who knows how many murders we can clear with them. Based on…”
Wilson quietly asked, “Based on what?”
Limply Myers said, “Based on what’s been going on down here with rogue cops.”
Wilson just shook his head. “John, two questions: what is the oldest gun you have, and do you know how many guns you have?”
“Major, the oldest one is an 1851 Navy, and at last count one hundred seventy eight.”
“John, how many are fireable of that number?”
“All of them are, major. All of them, and we have ammo for each of them.”
“Ah… Papa,” Jesse interrupted. “Did you count the Glock 19 I bought last week?”
The old man turned and smiled. “Thanks, Jesse. Major, make that one hundred seventy nine guns. And before you ask, I’d say we have something in the neighborhood of eighty thousand rounds of cased ammo in the powder house, and probably eight, ten pounds of powder, and fifteen thousand primers, and probably six thousand bullets and cases. If you really want exact numbers, I can go get my book. Oh yeah, and two cases of TNT, and a couple of hundred feet of primacord, and two boxes of detonators.”
Smiling gently, Major Wilson said, “No John, that’s close enough. So Mr. Myers, just how far back are you intending to go looking for murders?”
Myers just stared at the old man, his mind not processing the sense of what he’d just said.
“Mr. Myers, did you bring enough evidence bags for one hundred seventy nine guns? And enough transport for them? I only see two vehicles out there; I don’t think you could even get all the guns in two vehicles, could you? And how many evidence sheets did you bring? Enough to document each gun, and all its ammo? I don’t think so. Tell you what you’re going to do, if this is about the shoot on Sunday, you may collect those weapons and no others under this search warrant. Clay, you got a camera handy?”
Clay pushed off from the sink. “Yes, sir, boss. Ronni would you hand me the little camera in your purse?”
Ronni reached in her purse, pulled out a compact Sony and handed it to Clay.
“Clay, lay these IDs out and take pictures of them, then take pictures of each of these agents. You, Spears, you seem to have a little sense, you may inventory and collect the weapons used in the shoot on Sunday. And, Clay, make sure you have pictures of all three weapons before they’re bagged, don’t want them damaged now do we?”
Myers spluttered, “No, you can’t take our pictures, that’s illegal and besides, that…”
Slumping, he just glared at Clay as he took his picture. When he’d finished, Clay walked over to the old man. “Okay, John, which safe are the guns in?”
The old man looked at Jesse. “Where’s your ninety-four?” Jesse pointed to the office, so the old man led Clay and Spears into the office.
Opening the antique bank safe, the old man stood back and said, “Agent Spears the three weapons you want are the scoped Winchester 94 in the third rack from the left, the scoped Winchester Model 70 in the next to the last rack on the right, and the Barrett MRAD in the last rack on the right. Those are the three weapons used. Would you remove them from the safe and place them on the table for Ranger Boone to photograph them please?”
Spears just stood there for a moment, staring at the safe. It was more like a vault than safe, and she’d never seen this many guns in any place other than their own armory, even her dad didn’t have this many. She once again vowed to herself to get the hell out of this state, sooner rather than later. Gingerly she removed each rifle in silence, laid them out, documented them, bagged them and handed the old man the bottom copy as a receipt.
She couldn’t help glancing at the other rifles, and noted two M-16s sitting in the safe, along with some kind of monster rifle with two barrels a couple of rows in; turning to the old man, she asked, “Sir, what is that monster sitting two rows back? The one with two barrels?”
The old man chuckled. “Miss, that is a Holland and Holland 500 nitro express double rifle. It shoots a 570 grain bullet at 2100 feet per second and almost 6000 foot pounds of energy at the muzzle. That particular gun is seventy years old and well used, so it’s only worth about seventy thousand dollars. Somewhere around here is the original leather case for it.”
Reaching on the top shelf, he took down two rounds almost four inches long and a half inch in diameter. “These are what it shoots.”
Spears just looked at them wide-eyed, as he put the rounds back. He noticed her looking down at the M-16s and said, “Yes, those are M-16s and yes they are full auto. They are my and my grand-daughter’s duty rifles issued by the sheriff. Would you like me to call him in here to verify that?”
Glancing at Clay, who was grinning at her, she looked back at the old man. “Uh… No sir. That’s fine.”
“Okay, are we done here?” She nodded and Clay picked up two rifles and walked out, leaving the third for Sparks. She picked it up and followed the old man back into the kitchen.
It was apparent that Major Wilson had been holding court in the kitchen, as Francisco, Juanita and Jesse were having a hard time concealing grins. When Sparks walked in with the last rifle, the Major turned to Myers again. “Okay, here are the rifles, since this arrest warrant says remand to custody, and since you’re in my jurisdiction, I will take custody of these fine people and that finishes this off. Now all of you get your asses out of my jurisdiction and if I or any of my troopers see you here again without a courtesy call, you will be arrested. Do you understand?”
Myers turned an interesting shade of purple, but nodded and stomped out of the house, closely followed by the rest of the Tac team. Doors slammed and the two SUVs quickly departed the driveway.
22 Now What
Major Wilson pulled out a chair and sat down. “Juanita, can I get a piece of that pie I smell and maybe some ice cream on top if you have it?”
Juanita took another bowl out of the cabinet as the old man went to the back door and called out in the Degar dialect. Toby came in the back door smiling, wearing a large Bowie knife on his belt.
Chattering happily to the old man in Degar, he told him how he’d smacked one of the bad people in the back of the head and used his handcuffs and tie wraps to bind him up; he’d then snuck up on the second one and put the knife to his throat because he’d moved before Toby could hit him.
The old man relayed the tale to the amusement of all, and Toby got a reward of pie and ice cream with the major.
The old man pulled out his cell and called Billy, but didn’t get an answer, so he assumed he was still en route. He sent a quick text to call the house and grabbed a cup of coffee and sat too, “Major, how’s your daughter doing? I know Angelina said she was in another room in the hospital, but I didn’t have a chance to stop by and see her.”
“She’s doing pretty well considering she took a full blast of twelve- gauge at point blank range,” Major Wilson answered. “Thankfully, she had her level three vest on, and it absorbed the pellets, but she’s got five broken ribs, a punctured and collapsed right lung, and a knot on her head the size of a golf ball. Doc says he’s going to keep her for a few days, but they got the lung to re-inflate yesterday, and her vision wasn’t too blurry
today, so things are looking up. Thanks for asking, by the way.”
Shifting in his chair, the Major said, “Okay, the real question is what in the hell am I going to do with you and Jesse since I now have you in custody? Jose, I can’t ask you to put two of your deputies in your own jail, and…”
The house phone rang. The old man answered and listened for a couple of minutes, then turned to the room. “Well, major, Billy Moore had just landed, and he said he’s got Judge Cotton coming in, that we should meet him at the courthouse, so maybe he has an answer.” Looking over at the sheriff he asked, “Jose, do you trust me to drive myself and Jesse into town, or do you want to haul us in?”
Clay couldn’t help himself, and started laughing, which started everybody laughing in a final release of the tension. The sheriff finally said, “John, if I can’t trust you now, because of this put up BS, I don’t need to be the sheriff; but it’s really the major’s call.”
Major Wilson looked at Clay. “I ought to make you haul them in for laughing, but I guess we’d better go see what your high dollar lawyer has up his sleeve. Drive yourselves for all I care, I know you’re not going anywhere!”
Ronni begged off on riding along as she said, “Yet, another damn courtroom. I’ll stay here and catch up on all the dirt with Juanita.”
Clay ended up riding with the major, while the sheriff took the lead with the old man and Jesse in the Suburban and the major bringing you the rear in his Crown Vic.
Arriving at the court house, they found a blue-jeaned Billy Moore pacing outside the side door and talking a mile a minute on his cell phone. His beat up briefcase leaned against the door as a reminder for him to pick it up on the way in. When everyone came up the sidewalk, Billy looked around. “Where are the Feds? Are they somewhere behind or are they buried in the South 40, John?”
The old man laughed but all the others grimaced, and the major said, “Mr. Moore, that’s not funny.”