The meeting went on for well over an hour before they got to the last two items on the agenda.
Frank Sims was the current President of the Central Florida Sportsman Club. This was only his second meeting as President so he was a little unsure of himself.
“The next item is an important one. The NRA has asked if they could send a representative to our next meeting. They requested about a half hour of our time. I wasn’t sure if I could say yes for the club or we needed to bring it up as a motion.”
“You know what it’s about?” one of the members asked.
“He said it was about the Second Amendment.”
“No kidding. That’s all they ever talk about besides sending them more money,” someone else added.
“Look, I’m okay either way. I just need some direction,” Frank said.
“Let’s vote on it then,” a woman in the front row said.
“Fine with me. Someone want to make a motion?”
“I make the motion to have the NRA come to the next meeting to talk to us,” a tall, weathered man near the back said.
“It’s Larry Wilson isn’t it?” Frank asked.
“Yep,” he said.
“Okay. Larry Wilson has made the motion to allow the NRA time at the next meeting. Do I have a second?”
“I second,” the same woman in the front said.
“Fine. Rose Thompson seconds the motion.”
“Any discussion?” he asked.
No one spoke up.
“Okay, all in favor signify by saying aye.”
A loud chorus of ‘ayes’ were shouted out.
“All opposed?”
No one spoke up.
“The ayes have it. I will call and let them know that they are on. Now for the last item. Carl, why don't you tell them what you think is going on,” Frank said stepping back and sitting down.
Carl Hicks was a lifetime member of the NRA. He had been shooting since the middle 50s and had served two tours in Vietnam during 1967 and 1968. He had worked for Smith & Wesson for a time before finishing college and becoming an attorney.
“Well, not to be an alarmist but I think I should share some information that has made its way to me. Rumor has it that President Quasim and his administration are going to go after the second amendment like never before. Essentially they intend to strip its true meaning and rewrite it to their liking. From what I have gleaned so far, it is a several pronged attack. They intend to use the media to spearhead their agenda. They will also place a huge tax on industries that make guns and ammunition. Third, they intend to make it virtually impossible for the average citizen to buy a gun that shoots more than five rounds. Any gun that holds more than five rounds will be considered an assault weapon and can be confiscated by the police. Fourth is a limit on the caliber of gun that can be purchased. No gun that can shoot more than a .22 long rifle will be sold to citizens. In short, they intend to put the gun and ammunition manufacturers out of business and limit our ability to buy a weapon of our choosing.”
The room was totally silent.
Finally someone spoke up, “Is that legal? The second amendment will mean nothing anymore.”
“You are exactly right. That is the whole idea. By restricting the intent of the second amendment, they will essentially be able to eliminate the private ownership of guns.”
“They can’t do that.”
“Maybe not today but in the near future this is exactly what we are going to see.”
“What can we do about it? I damn sure ain’t handing over my guns to the government to destroy,” someone said angrily.
“I don’t think you will have a choice. You will be forced to turn them over or go to jail,” Carl replied.
It started slowly but then suddenly everyone started talking at once. The tone became more heated as people began to vent their anger.
It took Frank several seconds of banging the gavel to get everyone to calm down enough for him to speak.
“I know what you are thinking but that doesn’t mean we have to sit by and let it happen. One of the reasons the NRA is coming is to tell us what options we have,” Frank said.
“I can tell you one option I have. They come after my guns and they are going to have a fight on their hands.”
A few others agreed. Most didn’t respond one way or the other. After the meeting was over, several groups formed in the parking lot. Some serious discussions were obviously taking place.
CHAPTER THREE
“Can you believe that man?” Hanna shouted when she got back to her office, “What a pathetic little man he is.”
She was seething from the dressing down the President had given her in front of others. She sat down at her desk and started a list of allies she could muster together to bring pressure on the President. She wanted to force him to quit beating around the bush and push her agenda through.
She was under pressure as well. The anti-gun lobbyists were paying her a great deal of money to get the job done. She wasn’t sure she understood the real reasons they wanted to end private ownership of guns but it didn’t matter as long as they kept paying her large sums of money. She was smart enough to realize that much of the money was coming from foreign interests but money was money no matter where it came from. She compiled her list and started making phone calls.
***
Six men and two women were riding in the back of the Ford E-series commercial van. On the sides and back of the van were signs that said, ‘HANDGUN CONTROL INCORPORATED’. In smaller letters it said, “Citizens for Gun Control’.
The man in the passenger seat said, “We take a left at the next light.”
“I've got it Blake. I’ve been there before.”
“Hey, just doing my navigating duties.”
“Fine, but I do know the way,” the driver insisted.
They made a left turn when the arrow turned green onto Eye Street. When they got to the building with 1225 painted on the side they pulled into the underground parking lot. The gate was down so they had to wait for the guard.
“What can I do for you?” he asked as he walked up to the driver’s window.
“Open the gate?”
“Your card isn’t reading?”
“Ah this darned van. It’s a new one and I don’t think they put the reader in the right place. We’ve had this same trouble twice before.”
“I don’t recognize this van,” he said stepping back and looking it over.
“That’s because it’s new, less than two weeks old. They are starting to replace the older units,” the driver informed him.
“I don’t know. I need to see some identification. I want to call it in before I open the gate.”
“Come on man, give us a break. We are already late. We were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago but you know how the traffic is when it rains.”
“Still. I’d better check it out.”
“Save yourself some time. Call the director and ask her if we are late for our meeting with her.”
“Well. Oh what the hell. I don’t need to bother the director. She is pretty unpleasant to deal with.”
“Tell us about it. She will chew our butts good for being late.”
“Okay, but get the reader fixed.”
“I’ll get right on it,” he said and put the van in gear.
They drove to the far end of the garage and parked right under the HCI offices. The men and women in the back got out first then the navigator. The driver opened the glove box and flipped a switch.
Once he was out, he locked the van and they all got on the elevator and went up to the main level. They broke into smaller groups and exited through four different doors. They all reunited at the corner of K Street and NW 9th Street at Mt. Vernon Square. Minutes later another commercial van pulled up and they all boarded.
“Any problems?” the new driver asked.
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” the navigator of the first van replied.
“Excellent,” came the reply.
; CHAPTER FOUR
“Mr. President, I don’t know what is going on but we are swamped with calls from the HCI group, along with the CAVG and even the NMG group. They are all saying the same thing. You need to pick up the pace on gun control. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I know who is behind it. It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it my way. If Ms. Cole thinks she can pressure me into action before I am ready she is sadly mistaken. If anything, I will go even slower just to make her squirm. I don’t like that woman much.”
“Obviously she feels the same about you. She has been trying to make life hell for all of us,” his personal secretary said as she closed the door.
Who does she think she is, Benjamin mused? He already knew she thought she should be President but this was going too far. Obviously the chastisement didn’t do much good. No, he was going to have to take even stronger action. If she wants to play hard ball I’ll show her how it is really played.
“Betty,” he said over the intercom.
“Yes Mr. President.”
“Could you bring in the list of upcoming overseas functions that we have scheduled?”
“Yes sir, right away.”
A few minutes later she handed him a binder with several pages neatly typewritten. He spent several minutes studying each page until he had formulated a plan. He couldn’t help but chuckle. This would really fry her butt.
***
Chairman Connie Stark had just started the meeting with the Board of Directors.
“Thank you all for coming. I want to especially welcome Mr. Drew Nickels, president of I-Media Advertising and his creative director, Mary Winford. Mr. Nickels and his team have put together an exciting new campaign that I wanted to share with all of you. Mr. Nickels why don’t you show them what we have in mind.”
“Thank you Ms. Stark. Members of the Board. It is a pleasure to be here. I think you will find that what we have produced for you at I-Media will astound and excite you. Ms. Winford is the creative genius behind what you are about to see. Ms. Winford, if you don’t mind?”
Mary Winford was tall with a youthful physique. Her curly blond hair seemed to create a halo around her head. Her blue eyes were piercing and her teeth were a dazzling white. She could have been a model and had even considered it at one time. Her creative side won out.
“What we have for you are two commercials. One is a thirty second spot and the other a one minute spot. They are designed to build upon each other and to coordinate with others that will soon follow. Our desire would be to run them in blocks simultaneously on all the major networks at once. We would target stations with the largest ADI and flood the market.”
“What is an ADI? I’ve heard the term before but forget what it means.”
“Sorry. Advertising speak. ADI is Area of Dominant Influence. The largest target market if you will.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem. Now the first one you are going to see is the thirty second spot,” she said and clicked on the play icon.
The scene opened with two obvious gang members standing on a street corner. It cut to a kid riding his bike up the street toward them. A car stops and one of the gang members ambles over to the car. Money is passed out the window and a bag of something is passed to the passenger. The car pulls off just as the young boy reached the corner. Another car suddenly whips around the corner and several guns open fire at the two gang members. One gets his gun out and returns a couple of shots before he is hit and goes down. The other guy takes off running and the car goes racing off. The camera cuts back to the gang member lying in a pool of blood. In the corner of the shot you can see a bicycle tire spinning. The camera pans up to the kid who is also lying in a pool of blood. The screen goes to black and in big white letters ‘TIME TO GET GUNS OFF THE STREETS’.
Everyone just sat for a few seconds and Mary didn’t say a thing.
She waited for a few more seconds before she stood up and asked, “What is the long term message?”
“Private citizens do not need guns,” two of the Board Members said in unison.
She smiled. Precisely what she had hoped they would say. Hidden in the spot were latent images saying exactly that message: ‘PRIVATE CITIZENS DO NOT NEED GUNS’. It was subliminal advertising and they didn’t even know it.
Another of the members said, “You know. That’s very powerful. You’re right about it conveying the message that people do not need to possess guns of any kind.”
Several others shook their heads in agreement.
“It’s even more effective the second time you see it,” she said and pressed the play button again.
When the spot had finished almost everyone in the room agreed that the message was clear.
“The second one is even more powerful. Watch this,” she said and queued up the second spot.
This one opened with a family sitting down to dinner. The husband was passing a plate of fried chicken to his little girl. Just as she reaches for it, someone knocks on the front door. The husband looks at the wife, she shrugs and starts for the door.
“I’ll go,” he says, and she stops.
The camera cuts back to the table and the kids and mother are passing food. You can hear voices in the background and they are becoming more agitated. Suddenly there is a scuffling noise and you can hear something breaking. The kids and mother all start to get up but the mother stops them and tells them to wait.
Shouting can now be heard and then it gets quiet for a second. Suddenly a gunshot rings out and you can hear someone screaming. The camera cuts to the kid’s faces then to the front room. The husband is holding a shotgun and lying at the bottom of the front porch steps is a man who has been shot in the back.
“What have you done?” the wife asked.
“I was just defending our home,” he replies and looks down at the gun in his hand.
“I don’t know George. I don’t know if the police are going to believe that,” she says. Once again the screen goes blank and then big white letters say, ‘IN THE HEAT OF AN ARGUMENT, LIVES CAN BE LOST...NO MORE GUNS’.
Once again she waited. Finally several said at almost the same time “We need to change the 2nd Amendment.” Perfect. Exactly what the hidden message said.
Mary Stark stood up and said, “Wow. Is that powerful or what? I mean, it hits the nail right on the head. People watching this will surely get the message.”
“We certainly think so,” Mary replied.
“Are you all as impressed as I am?” Connie asked.
Before she could get an answer, the floor suddenly erupted upward and a huge explosion could be heard all over Washington D.C. The building seemed to rise off the ground before crashing down into a smoldering pile of rubble. Fire sprang up in several places and glass and bricks rained down on the cars passing by. Several people on the street were hurt by flying glass and chunks of bricks.
People were screaming and running in all directions. Smoke filled the air and only two walls of the once solid building remained standing. Within minutes help began arriving and sirens could be heard all over the city as they rushed to the scene of the explosion.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Secretary of State, Hanna Cole, was waiting for the clapping to subside before she spoke. Once it died down she adjusted the microphone and looked out over the UN delegates.
“Distinguished members, it is a privilege to have this opportunity to address you on one of the most important perils facing the world, weapons in the hands of private individuals. The Small Arms Treaty is not something we should do; it is something we must do. As a representative of the United States of America I am pledging our support for this important treaty. The President of the United States has assured me that we will work hand and hand with the other nations in this endeavor.
We have already started work on the legal aspects of firearm ownership in America. Over the next few months, we will be starting a rigorous campaign to educate our citizens regarding the
importance of eliminating guns from private individuals.
No President has been more supportive of the Small Arms Treaty than President Ouasim. His administration is determined to do whatever is necessary to ensure that Congress will ratify the treaty.”
She droned on for the next ten minutes without really saying anything new. She left to a standing ovation.
***
Supreme Court Judge Glenda Foley was sitting at her desk, sipping a cup of tea and reading the latest Law Review. Scattered on the credenza behind her were copies of major cities' newspapers. Monday was her private day, the day she set aside to get caught up on reading and reviewing upcoming trials. At eighty-six she still had smooth skin and kept herself in pretty good physical condition by doing exercises in the swimming pool five days a week. Her once blond hair was now gray but it added a distinguished look. Her blue eyes were still bright and clear.
The Sims vs. The United States was not only complex but compelling as she had very strong feelings regarding wounded veterans. Her own husband had lost his right leg and three of his fingers to a ‘bouncing betty’ mine in Vietnam.
She was reaching for her cup of tea when there was a light knock on her door. That was unusual because everyone knew that Monday was not the time to intrude on the Honorable Glenda Foley. She set her cup down and sighed.
“Yes?” she finally said.
“Judge Foley, its Ralph Larson. May I have a few minutes?” he said through the door.
“Alright Ralph,” she said a bit gruffly.
Ralph stepped into Foley’s inner sanctum. He always felt like he was going before the Spanish Inquisition whenever he came to the Supreme Court Building.
“I really appreciate your taking the time to see me,” he said, easing into a soft leather chair. It was so soft he felt like he wasn’t going to stop until his butt hit the floor.
“Counselor Larson. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” she said, taking a sip of her tea. It was cold and she set it back down.
“The Sims case. I want to brief the President on where we are going. He seems to have taken an interest in it.”
A NATION DIVIDED - THE SECOND CIVIL WAR (The Second Civil War - BOOK I 1) Page 2