The beautiful Madison Shepherd of Fox News stood, “Do you have a date in mind for when you might turn things back over to the people?”
“Madison, that is the best question any reporter has ever asked me.” I answered. “It will be soon, and I’m looking forward to the transition back to my normal life. Thank you for that great question.”
More reporters stood, but I waved them off. That question was a good one to end the press conference, so I shut it down. I really wanted to get through to those people, but it might not have been possible. I’d try again later.
Later that night in the Oval Office, I sat in a chair in the corner in my bathrobe, nursing a glass of milk with ice. The moonlight shone through the window. I had a faraway look in my eyes, thinking about the press. A knock landed on the door. I looked up, put my glasses on the windowsill and said, “Come in.”
General St. Claire entered the room.
I said, “Jeez, you weren’t kidding about that insomnia thing. What time is it?”
“I hadn’t heard from you all evening. I didn’t stay for the press conference.”
“Is something wrong?”
He stopped in the middle of the room and said, “No. I came to ask you that.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said. “The press is aggravating but I can handle them.” We both smiled. “Thanks for checking on me, though.”
“Of course.”
Smirking, I said, “You could’ve called though, General. Maybe sent a text message?”
With a smile in his eyes the General said, “I don’t text.”
“Didn’t imagine you would.”
He pivoted as if to leave, but said, “There is something that would be good to discuss in person.”
On edge I said, “Okay . . .”
He pulled up a plush chair, aligned it with mine and started, “Few weeks back in one of our meetings, I questioned your decision to invade a foreign nation and I shouldn’t have done that.”
I reassured him, “Oh, General. Come on; you don’t have to do this.”
He responded, “No, no. Stop it. I do. It was the wrong thing to say. And more wrong still to think. I wanted you in this position. We gave you the right. The system gives you the right.”
We made eye contact.
The General declared, “I was a fool to ever doubt you.”
“You weren’t a fool. You’re a wise man. Always have been. And besides, it’s not like you called me Adolf Hitler.”
I smiled, but he did not. We parted company and I tried to get some sleep.
The next morning, I called President Ortiz to let him know about the cash total. He was thrilled with the news, yet I sensed there was something bothering him. And then he asked if I was sitting down. That couldn’t be good.
“Commander Marsh,” he said, “I was a little premature in my assessment of your operation the other night. I indicated to you that no bodies were found, other than Cartel members. This turned out to be wrong. One of the labs had 6 women working a night shift preparing cocaine for shipment. Two of the women had to bring their children with them, since they had no babysitter. The children, three in total, were asleep in an underground, hidden room that your men must have missed. When the shooting started, they went to their children. None of them survived the missile attack that leveled the compound. Our authorities were notified that there were people missing in the adjacent town, and they feared those people were at the compound during the raid. We found the bodies all huddled together in the hidden room.”
I was at a loss for words. There was dead silence on the phone.
President Ortiz asked, “Are you still there, Commander Marsh?”
“Yes, sir. I am, but I am too sad to speak,” I answered. “This is very disturbing news and I feel responsible.”
“It’s not your fault, Commander, and your men would not have known where this room was hidden.”
“I take it the news media has picked up on this story?”
He assured me it has and there would be some backlash.
I told him I wanted to think about it for a couple of days and I would contact him later. We hung up the phone and I was paralyzed. I sent Jerry to find General St. Claire. I told the General about the conversation between President Ortiz and me.
“I knew it was too good to be true,” lamented the General. “It’s so very hard not to have collateral damage in an operation like the one we launched.”
I know what he said was true, but I was only interested in cleaning up the Cartels, not killing innocents. It was an unfortunate situation and I had to do something for the relatives of the deceased. Nothing would make up for the lives of those women and children, but I was going to try.
I called President Ortiz later that week and told him what I wanted to do for the town and for the families of the deceased. It was no fault of their own that they were working the night of the raid. President Ortiz had told me of the methods of hiring used by the cartels. They threatened the families of the women in nearby towns to force them to work long hours preparing the cocaine and other drugs for delivery. To resist meant sure death to those closest to these women. To protect their children, they must comply.
I sent the government a million dollars to purchase five acres of land where the compound had been. It was to be deeded equally to the families affected. Another million was sent to prepare the land and build a new road to the property. Six houses would be built for the nearest relative of each person that lost his or her life. I sent 3 million dollars to complete the houses with yards and landscaping. Another 5 million dollars would go to the town for any improvements they needed, but a memorial for the slain must be erected in their honor. I hoped this would be enough and that the people would never forget the misery brought about by the rise of the Cartels.
President Ortiz, thanking me for my generosity, said, “The world needs more men like you to lead. You are tough, but compassionate, and you lead using common sense. We will always be friends. Good luck.”
“Thank you, President Ortiz,” I said. “You can count on me, always. Good-bye.”
I told the General what I had done, and he approved whole-heartedly.
Chapter 17
DISAGREEABLE PEOPLE
July in Washington, DC, is a really hot month. I guess the sun shining on all that concrete makes it more miserable. Of course, the press keeps the heat on me, but I can take it, being from Alabama. Seven months into this takeover, things were starting to settle out. The maximum-security prisons had been cleaned out and the homeless and drug addicts had taken their place in the jails. Thousands of people needing emergency transplant surgeries were saved in the process. The drug addicts living on the streets and the homeless had been rounded up and brought to emptied prisons. The flophouses full of needles and filth were being cleaned up in every city. Prisoners in the local jails were doing the work; the rehab of the addicts in the prisons was done cold turkey. I wanted them to feel the pain of rehab in hopes that they would never want to repeat their mistakes.
The number of food stamp recipients had gone down drastically, as had extended unemployment recipients. The unemployment rate was at 2.9%. After the illegals were forced out of the country, there were job openings everywhere. When the welfare ran out for those who couldn’t pass a drug test and they got hungry enough, those jobs were gobbled up. People were starting to understand that you can’t afford to pay people not to work or let welfare recipients spend government money for their drug habits. There was more government housing available after the drug tests were required to live there. Many people had to move out due to their drug habit. The neighborhoods were much safer with all the gangs eliminated. But that came with much sorrow. A few of the gangs in the inner cities had members who were forced to join. They were pressured to do evil things by the gang leaders. Many boys would have preferred to leave the gang, but it wasn’t safe to do so. Retaliation by those gangs was ruthless and cruel, so those boys were trapped. The military had orders to
eliminate those gangs by any means necessary. Most of them were killed in gun battles, but a few surrendered and went back to their families, with a warning to never return to gang activity.
The illegal immigrants were a different story. Many of them tried to stay, when I ordered them out of the country. Many of those illegals came through our southern border, but they weren’t from Mexico. They didn’t really believe we would enforce this ultimatum. Several of them fled to the sanctuary cities, but that didn’t work. It helped to catch them because they were all in one place. I dared mayors to buck me on this, and some thought about trying me. But the ICE agents were allowed to do their jobs backed by the military. Anyone that surrendered was taken to the border port of entry and forced to leave the country. Those who resisted were shot. After just a few deaths of illegals trying to flee, most just raised their hands in surrender. All my domestic policies were working as planned. So why was the press still hounding me? The answer was power. The people the press preferred to run this country were liberals, socialists, and maybe even communists. It was hard to understand when you know that everyone wanted to come here to chase the American dream, yet they wanted to change it to look like the place they came from. To become an American citizen one must learn our language, abide by our laws, respect our flag, and assimilate into our culture. Anyone that can’t do that shouldn’t be here. The latest approval rating on all my domestic changes was at 60%, which was still not good enough in my eyes. I wanted more of the country to believe in my methods and results.
Summer had allowed me to spend time with my family. We were finally all together for the first time in 7 months. Drew had a great year in basketball and Natalie was practicing golf every day she could. Cindy and the kids were here for another three weeks and then back to the grind. Cindy reminded me every day of my promise to fix everything in one year. I still thought I could do it. I was trying really hard.
Foreign policy had been taking up a lot of my time. Even though my family was with me, my time was limited. We couldn’t really move around much; it just took too much security. So, we stayed in the White House most of the time. The kids would get bored and probably want to go back home early. I was a kid once, and I understood. Their friends became more important than old mom and dad.
Of course the lives of my wife and children changed drastically when I decided to join General St. Claire as the face of the U.S. Government takeover. My major concern in the beginning was the health and safety of my immediate family and in-laws. My children were the most important consideration and Cindy agreed. We knew they could adapt to any changes because of their demeanors and intelligence. They were extremely book smart, but common sense had to be applied in the situations that were bound to come up. Not everyone would be singing my praises and my wife, children, parents, brother and in-laws would need to learn to hold their tongues. There would be security around them 24/7 and any confrontations would meet with a swift and firm response. The less they argued with those around them the less the security personnel would have to step in. It was easy for me to say that, but I wasn’t going to be there. I couldn’t go home until this thing was over.
Things went smoothly in the early stages of the takeover, but as time went by, my policies started rubbing a few people the wrong way. It wasn’t the hard-working average American; it was the freeloader living off the generosity of the U.S. Government and the state governments. When I cut them off from extended unemployment benefits and demanded a drug test be passed before receiving food stamps or welfare checks, I expected there to be trouble eventually.
Cindy informed me on one confrontation she had at our local grocery store. Natalie had accompanied her mother to get groceries, not expecting what happened next. A man in his 50s, overweight, poorly groomed, and irate over losing his benefits, recognized my wife and started berating her over my policies. He was calling me a traitor and a dictator. He even said I was a Nazi. Cindy was in shock and Natalie was standing behind her mother. Security moved in swiftly and escorted the man out of the store and I was told he might have a bruise or two from falling down.
Another incident happened at Cindy’s office. One of Dan’s clients wasn’t on board with the takeover. He was a dyed-in-the-wool democrat and extremely liberal. He hated me more than he hated President Trump, if that’s possible. He knew Cindy worked there and stopped at her office one day to complain about me. The two security guards just inside the door made it quite clear that if he didn’t remain civil, he would be physically removed from the premises. He proceeded to tell Cindy how wrong I was about what the government needed to do for the citizens.
Cindy politely said, “You are entitled to your opinion, even if it’s dead wrong!”
Wow! Now that was my girl. I thought the first confrontation prepared her for this second one and she showed a little fight in my defense. I love my wife!
Natalie wasn’t immune from the criticism toward me. Kids could be cruel and at 13 years old, things could get really nasty. One of her classmates expressed her dislike for me, one day at school during lunch. The grocery store scene had prepared her for the next situation she encountered. As her classmate pointed her finger at Natalie and started saying nasty things about me, that I’m sure she heard at home from her parents, security stepped in to end it. Natalie said, “Don’t stop her; let her talk. She will just prove how stupid she is!” My kids were competitors and they didn’t back down.
Drew had his troubles at school and at basketball games. Having a U.S. history class while his father overthrows the same government he’s studying was not an ideal situation. One day in class the discussion got heated between a disgruntled classmate and Drew. The teacher was half-heartedly trying to stay neutral but seemed to take the side of the other boy. His father had lost his benefits and couldn’t support his family. Drew asked him, “Did he pass his drug test?” The boy went silent. They all knew the answer to that question. The teacher told the boy to sit down, but he didn’t comply. He started pointing his finger at Drew and walking toward him. Security took him to the principal’s office and he was put in a different class going forward.
Basketball games were much harder for security. Drew had to be on the floor competing and that wasn’t an ideal situation. More security was required for the gates, dressing rooms, bleachers, and lobbies. Of course, the opposite team’s crowd was trying to get under Drew’s skin by holding up signs of me in a Nazi uniform. They called him a traitor, like his father. None of this stopped him from leading his team to 24 wins with only three loses. But one night during the game, one of the players on the opposite team purposely elbowed Drew in the head. Security saw the whole thing, but kept their seats. I had warned Drew of things like this during his days of playing middle school games. Well, my warnings finally came true. The security guards told me later that Drew waited until the next quarter, watched for the referee to turn his head away, and elbowed the guilty player in the jaw and almost knocked him out. They didn’t even call a foul. That was my boy! I love my family.
Of course my parents had to endure a few heated arguments with some of their liberal friends, but nothing ever escalated to the point security had to step in. However, my brother Roger wasn’t so lucky. During an argument to defend my actions, one of his co-workers at the plant he worked at, took a swing at Roger and connected slightly. Roger has a temper and tackled the guy. He broke the guy’s jaw before security could pull them apart. He was lucky he didn’t lose his job, but the boss realized Roger had relatives in high places.
My in-laws had a few heated discussions but all in all survived the ordeal unscathed.
The thing that everyone had to get used to was the presence of security 24/7. My children’s schools had more security than any school in the nation. And, yes, it was a little intrusive and inconvenient, but oh so necessary. I would never be able to thank all the security personnel enough for all they did to protect the people I loved.
Chapter 18
SUCCESS AND FAILURE
/> The Secretary of State had been a regular visitor recently. All foreign affairs were on hold for the most part. The General was handling the military end of it, while Secretary Richey, our chief diplomat, handled the negotiations and interactions between nations. Most nations were in a wait-and-see mode when looking at the circumstances in the U.S. at that time. They didn’t know what to think of me or how long I would be in charge. The press probably helped me a little without knowing it, when they described me as a mad man with my finger on the nuclear trigger. I knew that I wanted my life back and this had to end. The U.S. was the policeman of the world. We had to get back to doing that job. I was not qualified, nor did I want to tackle it. But tackle it I did.
As I predicted, the family visit was cut short due to boredom. I was happy to see them for a couple of weeks, but I knew that they weren’t enjoying it much. It was more for Cindy anyway. She was coming back later when I would take one more run at convincing the liberals in the northeast to stick to my program once I was gone. It would be a hard sell. But the foreign affairs of the nation suddenly took center stage.
In the Middle East, our ally Saudi Arabia is the major player in the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries or OPEC. Until recently they were the largest oil producers in the world. But thanks to new discoveries and new technology, the United States has overtaken Saudi Arabia as the number one oil producer worldwide. But the Saudis are huge in the export business of oil throughout the world. As one of the Saudi’s large tankers sailed southward along the coast of Somalia, pirates hijacked the ship and all its crew. Secretary Richey kept me abreast of the situation and suggested we let the Saudis handle it themselves. The pirates demanded a $5 million ransom and soon got it. But the negotiation was costly. The pirates killed 6 of the crew to make sure the Saudi government knew they meant business. They reached out to Secretary Richey, asking for help to rid the area of the Somali pirates and make the Gulf of Aden safe for travel by all ships. Secretary Richey advised me to take a wait-and-see stance and monitor the area for tankers passing through the Gulf of Aden. That’s not my way. I called General St. Claire and had him bring Admiral Jason Segers with him. The three of us met the next day and I asked for their opinion on the situation. Admiral Segers filled me in on the capabilities of our nuclear submarines. I liked what I heard.
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