Acts of Sedition

by Dennis Stephan

  Chapter 13

  Executions at the Federal Correctional Institution at Leavenworth were not that unusual. There was a time when only a few per year were carried out but over the past 15 years or so the rampant increase in murders that were considered federal offenses, coupled with the softened stance on imposing capital punishment resulted, on average, in several executions per month.

  Everyone at Leavenworth knew the drill, and no one gave it much thought.

  Today’s execution of Carol Carson was front-page news though and the fact that the witness gallery was expected to be packed, added to the nervousness of the staff. But what made this execution even more significant and newsworthy was the presence of the President of the United States.

  Late yesterday afternoon, the warden had received a call informing him that the president had decided that he wanted to see the person who tried to kill him fry. He knew what the president meant, despite the fact that there would be no frying in this instance. Carol Carson had selected lethal injection as her preferred method of execution.

  The Secret Service advance team arrived at 2 pm CST, about a half hour before the president. The execution was scheduled for 3:30 pm, so the president toured the facility for a short time after meeting with the warden and then took his seat in the front row of the witness gallery. The rest of the area was to be made up of family and friends, members of POW, and the press.

  This would be the first execution President Abbas ever witnessed, and he felt hatred in his heart for this woman who almost killed his beloved. This would be the first execution Angela Marie Mastronardo had ever witnessed as well. She felt nothing but love for her friend and sadness for her country as she sat motionless awaiting the condemned.

  At 3:15 pm, Carol Carson was brought into the execution chamber and strapped to a gurney that for the time being was tilted forward to allow her to see her friends and relatives one last time.

  Carol, facing the gallery, scanned the roughly 40 faces, most of whom she didn’t recognize. Her family visited her two days ago and told her that they would be there to claim her body for burial but that they could not bear to watch. They would have taken the remaining ten seats in the gallery.

  She tried not to look at the president, a difficulty given that he was front and center. When she looked to his right and toward the rear, she noticed her sorority sister and gave her a short wave of a few fingers on her left hand. Angela gave a halfhearted wave as tears streamed down her face.

  The Chemical room, next door, contained storage cabinets and a work bench, plus the chemical mixing pots, pipes, and valves used for executions by lethal gas.

  The anteroom was reserved for last minute calls from the governor, attorney general, or the Supreme Court.

  The warden sat waiting for a phone call that he hoped would never come.

  At 3:25 pm, the phone rang. He answered the call from the attorney general.

  “Yes sir, I understand.”

  He made his way into the execution chamber saying something to his deputy who, with an astonished look on his face, backed away as the warden left to go back into the anteroom to await a final call.

  The president, seeing this, excused himself from the room and made his way into the anteroom to speak to the warden.

  “What’s going on here?” said a very agitated President Abbas.

  “I’m sorry Mr. President but apparently there is one last review of the case being conducted at the request of the ACLU acting on Ms. Carson’s behalf, and the attorney general has ordered me to stand down until I hear back from him”.

  “Bullshit! You will not stand down!”

  “But Mr. President, I have my orders.”

  “You have your orders? I’m the president. The attorney general works for me, and I’m overriding his directions. If you know what’s right for you and your career, you will proceed with this execution. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir, Mr. President.”

  The president returned to his seat as the warden entered the execution chamber, nodding to his deputy.

  The gurney was lowered into its reclined position. Two IVs, one in each arm, were inserted; one for the execution, one as a backup. The dose of drugs selected in this case all had long, difficult to pronounce names, but was merely a lethal combination of a barbiturate, paralytic, and potassium solution.

  At 3:40 pm, ten minutes after the scheduled execution time, the warden gave a nod, the signal to administer the lethal cocktail. After each drug had been administered, the line was flushed with a saline solution until the final drug entered the tubes. Carol closed her eyes. Shortly after that, she stopped breathing; entering into her eternal sleep. A physician on hand pronounced her dead at 3:44 pm.

  As Angela turned to leave the room, tears streaming down her face, the president gave a sympathetic nod in her direction as if to say “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Angela turned toward the president; revealing the pink pin that she had placed on the lapel of her jacket. She cordially nodded back and under her breath said: “Up yours.”

  The faint sound of a phone ringing went unheard

  Chapter 14

  Friday morning newspapers, generally just fodder for weekend fun, had two blockbuster stories.

  The first was the story that Senator Flannery’s daughter had been found. She was mysteriously abducted a few days earlier and then just as mysteriously, had been released unharmed. To the best of everyone’s knowledge, there had been no ransom demands.

  The second was about Carol Carson’s execution. Executing Carol Carson was like detonating a briefcase of C4, but the story was made juicier with the news that the president had overridden the attorney general’s stay order. Every major newspaper across the country called for an investigation into what was being dubbed misconduct by the president. And of course, as they did with all conspiracy stories, the press gave it a name, Carsongate.

  Protest marches that started early the next day in Washington, DC made their way across the country with the worst being in the major cities on the east coast. While at first peaceful, many of these protests in response to Carol’s execution and the president’s actions, turned violent as some only wanted to loot for looting’s sake.

  The president, seeing what was happening in the nation’s Capital, had called for riot police and had his staff call the governors of every state to warn them to be on the lookout for what he termed un-American activities. They were told to use the full powers of their offices, including a National Guard call-up, to ensure that riots were squashed quickly and that rioters were dealt with harshly.

  While freedom of speech and assembly were guaranteed under the first amendment, Abbas was not going to allow any further dissension in his country. He called Kyle Simpson, the Director of Homeland Security to see what his office had heard about these protests. Convinced that this was more than a just a few acts of civil disobedience, Abbas invoked the enforcement of a law that was signed by President Obama in 2011. Under his interpretation of that law, Secret Service agents could designate any place they wished as a place where free speech, association, and petition for the government were prohibited. And it permitted the Secret Service to make those determinations based on the content. His next call was to Sadeem Ali, Director of the Secret Service.

  The protests were worse in New York City where anti-Abbas protesters, blaming Islam for the president’s policies, turned up at a local Mosque to disrupt midday prayer that was a part of Jum’ah, The Day of Assembly. What started out as taunting, turned into rock throwing and ended with the burning of the Mosque. The subversives hurled beer bottles into the crowd injuring several Muslims.

  Police in riot gear tossed teargas to disperse the crowd and, of course, that resulted in injuries to both Muslims and the protesters.

  After an hour of fighting, hundreds of demonstrators had been arrested. The most notable of these was Aaron Rudzinsky, son of noted Rabbi Saul Rudzinsky.

  Aaron demanded an attorney and then ca
lled his father.

  Chapter 15

  Once home, a tired, bewildered, and angry Saul Rudzinsky, sat across the kitchen table from his son.

  Saul Rudzinsky was the stereotypical rabbi with long graying hair and a beard down to his chest.

  “How could you do this, Aaron? You’ve always been a good boy. You never got into any trouble. Are you planning to give me more gray hair as I get older? Is that what you’re doing?

  “I’m sorry father. I know you don’t want trouble. But I felt that someone had to speak out.”

  “Speak out? Is that what you call hurting people with bricks, burning buildings, getting arrested?

  “I didn’t mean to do any of that, and technically I didn’t do that. I didn’t throw anything or set anything on fire. I was just part of a peaceful protest.”

  “Oh, I see. You were part of a peaceful protest. So technically you didn’t do anything that would get you arrested and make me have to go to the police station to bail you out of jail?”

  “I don’t know what to say, father. I’m sorry. But these are troubling times. The attempted assassination seemed to have empowered people. My friends and I had been talking about the changing face of America that led Carol Carson to do something so out of character.”

  Aaron spoke softly but with conviction to his dad. He had been on the debate team in school, so his speech pattern often switched from everyday chat to oration.

  “But when we heard that the president countermanded the stay of execution so that he could avenge his wife’s shooting, well that was beyond belief. Someone had to do something.”

  “Oh and you had to be the one. The son of one of the most well-known rabbis in New York City had to get himself arrested for burning down a place of worship no less. Do you not see how you have humiliated me, Aaron?”

  “I do. But we might as well be living in Israel surrounded by the Arabs. At least, everyone would know they hated us, and we hated them. We would be enemies, and there would be no pretentions. But here father, we have to act like we’re all on the same side, and we all want the same things in life. Or, we have to turn to drastic measures to make our wishes known. What are we to do, father? How can we continue to live like this?”

  Saul now just sat stoically and listened to his son. He was so young, so full of life, and so naïve. When he was passionate about something, Aaron took on the role of a filibuster and he was prone to prattle on.

  Saul knew of what his son was speaking, though. A tragedy in his life led Saul to his vocation. As a religious leader for over 30 years, it was not only Rabbi Saul Rudzinky’s job to teach and lead but to keep his fingers on the pulse of what was happening to the Jews around the world and to do everything and anything to stop atrocities before they occurred. It was Saul's job to know thy enemy and, outside of the leaders of Israel, Saul and others in Jewish communities around the world were failing miserably.

  Something went very wrong in the world. It began when allies of Israel started making deals with Iran, Syria, and other sworn enemies. Then somehow enemies of Judaism were able to become dominant players and seize control of many of the major institutions and even governments without so much as a shot being fired; a coup d’état with no bloodshed. This happened first in Europe and then in America while the country was distracted by wars overseas and its self-indulgence. By enemies, Saul did not mean all Islamists. Of course, he disagreed with the fundamental teachings and beliefs of Sharia. But like Christians, there were many Muslims who were content to worship as they pleased and left the Jews alone. Those were the Muslims that Saul could tolerate. What scared Saul, and the people of Israel, was the shift to more radical views by many Islamists who had come to America and raised their children here as they would have been raised back in their countries of origin. The Jewish leaders back home had warned of such. Sadly their warnings were ignored by a populace who, for some reason, believed that these Muslims were good, God-fearing men who were true Americans and that the evil doers were only members of ISIS, al-Qaeda, The Taliban, and The Egyptian Islamic Jihad living in the Middle East and Northern Africa. Well, thought Saul, America was duped. He knew now that those making noise in the US and most of Europe were not peace loving peoples of Islam but Islamist extremists who were out to gain control or engage in a jihad. From what he had seen so far, there was now an American Taliban every bit as dangerous as those in the Middle East. Saul knew this, and he was aware that he, and religious leaders of all faiths, had failed America.

  “And we’ve heard of others, like us, in Philly," Aaron said. "They meet and talk about the same stuff. People are finally waking up. Sure, they’re scared – I’m scared, we’re all terrified but they’re just like us, and they’ve had enough.”

  “What people?” said Saul, “Other Jews?” He hoped that the answer would be yes and that there was a movement among Jews to rise and be heard. This was the one thing that had been missing in Germany in the 1930s.

  “No father,” said Aaron, “I don’t think. From what I’ve heard, it’s mostly Christians. There’s even some speculation that they are plotting in secret to take back the country.”

  His father pondered this for a minute and then dejectedly said: “Ok, tell me more about what you know.”

  “Well, there is not much more to tell, Father,” Aaron explained to his dad that he heard that there were both Catholics and Protestants meeting weekly in Philadelphia at someone’s house and that several religious and community leaders had joined the group, each claiming to have a following.

  “And, I’ve heard that Philly isn’t the only place this is happening. My friend, Jed, told me that he heard about similar groups in Baltimore and Boston too. And there might even be another group like that here in New York.”

  Aaron said that the Jewish friends with whom he had been meeting in similar fashion now numbered in the 50s, and continued to grow. “A month ago we had 20 people or so, father, and now there are over 50 with more expected at the next meeting. I know it’s small, father, but it’s just the start.”

  “Whoever’s leading the group here is doing a lousy job from what I saw today.” Who is leading the group?” asked Saul.

  “Well father, that’s the problem. Except for today, little was getting done because there is no leadership. Everyone complains about how they believe their 1st Amendment rights have been violated. There are stories, father, of people trying to worship in their homes over Yom Kippur, who faced grave consequences. In one instance, an Arab landlord called the police to break up the meeting after hinting that something illicit might be going on. These are very real situations. Many have similar stories, but no one knows what to do.”

  “What can I do about that?” said Saul, with a shrug.

  “You’re very well respected, father. You’re a recognized leader. Come to this week’s meeting and see for yourself. Maybe you can offer some suggestions on how to better organize and get started. It’s time father. For years, our ancestors have fought to protect our right to worship and what are we doing to protect that right; to stop it from being taken from us, father? We must act.”

  “Such dramatics. You should have been an actor. Look, first off I’m a religious leader, Aaron, a spiritual guide, a teacher; and certainly not some revolutionary. And if what you did today is any indication, the only change will be that you will all be put in prison.”

  They sat silently. Saul hoped that what he had just said would sink into his son’s thick skull.

  Saul noticed the look of disappointment on his son’s face. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll stop by just to see what is going on but I can’t promise that I’ll be able to help. We’ll see. We’ll see. In the meantime, see if you can learn more about the groups meeting down in Philadelphia. I would be interested in knowing if there are Jews organizing and whether we’re talking about a few people griping or an organized effort with some chance to radically but peacefully change things.”

  “I will, father, thank you and I’ll let you know what I
learn.”

  “Don’t thank me. Just stay out of trouble.”

  After his son left, Rabbi Saul Rudzinsky, deep in thought, rubbed his long beard. He started doing that many years ago to get attention and to make people think that he was wise. Now he did it out of habit. Maybe he’s right, Saul thought as he sat in his office gazing out of the window. “Maybe it is time to act,” Saul whispered to himself. "Maybe if our ancestors had taken action, there would have been no Shoal and six million Jews would have lived.”

  With that thought, he picked up the phone and dialed his longtime friend, retired Major General Joshua Redmond.

  Chapter 16

  The doors to the Hassan III Mosque were heavy and having one arm made it difficult for the young Arab to navigate the crowds entering for Jum’ah, the noon time Friday prayers. As he pushed his body against the door, he felt the weight lifted as a man in a stylish suit held the door for him. He nodded a thank you.

  They removed their shoes, entered, and sat beside one another throughout the entire prayer service. He thought he recognized the man from newspaper photos but wasn’t quite sure it was him. If it was, he knew that he hated him.

  Following the sermon, they knelt in silent prayer before exiting the same doors they had entered 40 minutes earlier.

  Curious about the man’s identity, he followed him down the street and watched as he entered City Hall. He heard the security guard greet him “Good afternoon Mr. Mayor”.