by Dan Arnold
“John, have you seen the television news coverage of the raid?” Texas Ranger Captain, O’Brian asked me.
“We’re watching it now, Luke.”
“I watched the video you gave me.”
“All four hours of it?”
“… Pretty much, yeah. This is a cover-up, John. The FBI is trying to make out like they didn’t set out to kill everyone at that meeting.”
“Listen, Luke. I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“Huh? Oh yeah, I get it,”
“We should meet sometime soon and discuss the various ramifications and possible course of action which might be most pertinent.”
“If you mean, figure out what happens next, you’ve got that right.” Luke said.
“I assume you’ve made sure everything I gave you is accounted for and secure?”
“Yes, and it has proven to be a source of valuable information.”
“That’s the only good news I’ve heard all morning.”
“Give me a call, when you’re ready to meet.” Luke hung up on his end.
“Tony, can I see you in my office? Christine, will you excuse us for a little while?”
When I had closed the door behind us, I brought Tony up to speed.
“Tony, I was there at that farmhouse last night. It didn’t go down the way the FBI is presenting it.”
Tony stared at me for a moment.
“What are you telling me, J.W.?”
“I have photos of everything inside that house. Photos I took just a few hours before the raid. I have aerial images of the entire property, including that farmhouse from every angle. The video we saw on the news, showing all those weapons and equipment was not shot inside the farmhouse. It doesn’t even resemble it. I also have video of the FBI systematically shooting and killing the few men who escaped the blast, including Gary.”
“Hold on, J.W. Are you suggesting the FBI gunned down unarmed men?”
“I don’t know whether they were armed or not. They probably had handguns, but they offered no resistance. They were crawling and staggering away from the burning farmhouse that had just been blown to bits.”
“Can you prove it?”
I told you, Tony. I have it all on film. Well, not really film, but you know what I mean.”
“J.W., are you telling me you were there, shooting video, while FBI agents killed Gary?”
“Yes and no, Tony, I was about a half mile away, using a remote control aircraft to get the video.”
“You have it all, the explosion, the shooting, everything?”
I nodded, solemnly.
“Show me.” He said.
Sixty
Tony and I watched the most pertinent segments of the images I had recorded the previous night.
“As you can see, Tony, none of those guys are expecting any trouble. They’re just talking and…”
“Run it back, J.W. Did you see the flash, just before the explosion?”
I ran the images back and started again, from the point where some of the men began to emerge from the farmhouse.
“There! Did you see that?” Tony asked, about forty five seconds later, as the picture went to white and was broken up by the explosion.
“I did, Tony, and so did at least a half dozen Texas Rangers who were about a mile and a half away. There may have been other witnesses as well.”
“Can you run it back and then play it in slow motion?” Tony asked.
“No, Tony, I don’t know how to do slow motion on my computer. But the Texas Rangers have a copy of this, so does a guy who works for the local ABC affiliate. There are people in Washington D.C. who are looking at this right now. They can do all kinds of things to enhance the image and look at it frame by frame.”
“J.W., that looked like an incoming missile strike.”
I nodded in agreement. “It was what caused the explosion, Tony. There were no explosives inside the farmhouse.”
Tony was scrubbing his face with his hands.
“This is completely… unacceptable.” He struggled for the word.
“It may be even worse than what you’ve just seen, Tony.”
“I don’t see how it could be any worse.”
Tony was almost incapable of imagining that any fellow law enforcement officer could be capable of horrendous crime. He had seen some things before, but he was so committed to his own personal integrity, he had a difficult time thinking another cop might be crooked.
“Tony, where did the missile come from, and why did they use it?”
Tony closed his eyes and shook his head.
The image now was the wide shot of the area, showing the FBI agents arriving on the scene, the helicopter spotlighting the action. Watching it again was even harder for me, because I knew what I was about to see. The picture was clear and there was no doubt about it, the heavily armed and armored FBI agents were shooting down the survivors of the explosion, without any provocation. We saw one of the agents standing over Gary, shooting him repeatedly with an assault rifle.
Tony groaned.
I stopped the video.
“That was a carefully planned execution. They never intended to arrest anyone.” Tony noted.
“… Exactly.” I responded. “It’s why they killed Gary. They couldn’t have him contradicting their version of the events.”
“They intended from the beginning there would be no witnesses and no survivors.” Tony observed.
“They failed, on both counts.” I answered
“What? Who survived?”
“One of the men who had been in the meeting, I hauled him out of there and turned him over to a trusted friend. Are you getting this, Jack?”
Tony looked at me, clearly confused.
“Tony, say hello to our friendly DHS agent, Jack McCarthy. I expect he and his cronies are, or will be, listening to this entire conversation.”
Tony’s face got red.
“Here’s the thing, Jack. By now, there are at least a dozen people who know what really happened last night. Today, from here to Washington D.C., there are people watching and analyzing all the evidence I’ve provided them. Within hours, this will all go public. If anything happens to me, or anyone I know, it will come back on you. You might want to get busy figuring out how to save yourself.”
Tony looked at me.
“Nice speech, J.W. Do you really think he’s listening to any of it?
“I don’t know for sure, Tony, but he does like to do that sort of thing. I’ll tell you something else.”
“Yeah, what is it?”
“That was all the warning he’s going to get.”
A little more than an hour later, FBI Special Agent in Charge, Doug Booker, still dressed in his black fatigues, arrived at my office. Tony had gone back into the reception area to watch the ongoing TV news coverage with the Christine. Doug walked in to my office without any interference from either Tony or Christine. He carefully closed the door behind him.
“Hello Doug, have a seat. Evidently someone gave you the news.”
He sat down and took a deep breath.
“So, you were there. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Look, I’m sorry about Gary. One of my men saw a man on the ground, reaching for a handgun and he panicked. There was a lot of shooting going on, the building had just exploded and he panicked. He shot Gary before I could stop him.”
“Doug, did you come by here to try to lie your way out of this thing?”
The muscles of Doug’s prominent jaw bunched up.
“Are you calling me a liar?” He growled.
“You may recall you promised me you would personally do everything in your power to keep Gary safe. For all I know, you shot Gary yourself. So, yes, Doug, in my opinion you’re a liar, a bigot, and a coward.”
“Stand up, you son of a bitch.” Doug spat, rising to his feet.
“What, you want to fight me? Nothing good would come of that. Sit down, Doug. You came here presumably to talk, let’s talk.”
<
br /> Doug continued to stand. He pointed his finger at me.
“You’re trying to ruin me. You’ve been out to get me from the moment we met.”
I studied him for a moment.
“No, Doug. You’ve probably ruined yourself, but I had nothing to do with it.”
“You religious hypocrite, you’ve taken it upon yourself to punish me.” He said.
“No, Doug. If I had taken it upon myself to punish you, you would already be dead.” I said, looking him in the eye.
Agent Booker stiffened and blinked several times.
I sighed.
“Believe me, Doug. I mean you no harm. It’s not my place to punish you. There is a judge you will answer to, but it isn’t me. On the contrary, I forgive you, Doug. I’m a guy who has screwed up and deserves nothing more than hell and horror, myself. I’m just thankful that God, who is rich in mercy, has forgiven me my sin, and He will do the same for you.”
“Sin, what sin? I’ve only done what needed to be done. Everything I do serves the best interests of my country.” Doug said, indignantly, with a wave of his hand.
I studied him some more.
“Doug, you’re lying to yourself. You organized an execution. You denied justice to those men because of your own hatred towards them.”
He shook his head.
“I provided a service to my country in the routine course of my duty.”
“I don’t think the country will see it that way, once the evidence is made public.”
Doug crossed his arms and looked down at me where I was seated.
“I don’t know what you’ve got, but it won’t be enough. I’m not alone. I have friends in high places. Whatever you have, or think you have, you can’t touch me.”
“I’m not even going to try, Doug. I’m sorry, so very sorry. I wish you could see the light. I’ll pray for you.”
Doug moved toward the door. “Pray for yourself. You’re one of the lunatics who believe in that shit. One of these days, the shoe will be on the other foot. Something about you doesn’t fit. We’re looking into that. If you ever see me again, it will be when I come to get you.”
As Doug stormed out through the reception area, Tony and Christine watched him go.
On the television the news anchor was announcing they had just received word there was some question as to the actual events which had occurred at the farmhouse in East Texas. It had been reported there was going to be an announcement from the Justice Department. The rumor was that several witnesses and some video footage had come forward, casting the raid in a completely different light.
My mission is all about the light.
Epilogue
Most people lead lives of solitary anxiety, solitary, because they don’t talk about their fears with anyone. They don’t even want to admit they have them.
They don’t know who they are, or why they are on the earth.
Introspection only brings more doubts and fears, so they seek solace from science.
Science tells them they are just biological organisms, evolved from muck, eking out a brief existence, at the expense of a doomed planet. Science tells them life is random, meaningless and pointless. Take another pill, and try not to think about it.
The clock is ticking.
Many wander through life, aimlessly waiting for the clock to run out. Some are seeking to find something that makes them feel as if their life matters in some way. They mostly want to “do the right thing,” but violently disagree on what “right” is, because, “Every way of a man is right, in his own eyes.”
The clock is ticking.
People know that from the moment of birth, they are doomed. They know life is short and uncertain. It may end at any time. The best of them ask “why”?
Why do we exist? Why are we the way we are? Why do bad things happen? Why is there suffering and death? What happens after we die, do we just cease to exist? When we die, will it be as if we had never existed at all?
The world offers many different and conflicting answers. Most of them are lies.
So, most people everywhere, in every walk of life, are as lost as sheep without a shepherd, stumbling blindly through however many days that remain to them, silently screaming in desperation.
The clock is ticking.
I know why I get up in the morning. I know what I’m supposed to do and how I should do it. I live to serve, but I don’t serve the planet earth, the government, or myself.
I serve the holy God; the creator of all things. I am appointed as one of His ambassadors in this place.
I serve The Good Shepherd.
He alone is perfect.
His sheep are imperfect, but His sheep know His voice when they hear it.
Other sheep wander around lost, following whatever voice sounds most pleasant to them at the moment, even the voices that lead them to slaughter.
Sheep without a shepherd are helpless against the predators.
I am appointed as a Shepherd of His sheep, to seek the lost sheep, and to stand against the wolves.
We who serve as Shepherds are also imperfect, but we are empowered and equipped for service.
I have the sword of Truth, the message of glorious hope.
I have work to do.
I wish I were a better Shepherd.
The clock is ticking.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank all the major news organizations who daily bring us their well-honed stories of horror, tragedy, and the corrupt condition of this present world. It makes the work of writing fiction so much easier. All any fiction writer need do is expand on the news of the day.
You can’t make this stuff up.
“These three remain; faith, hope and love. The greatest of these is love.”
A Look at The Ticking Clock (Angels & Imperfection 3)
IS THE VIOLENCE IN HIS PAST INTERFERING IN HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD?
When private detective John Wesley Tucker meets Hafsah Bashir, his world and his mission are turned inside out. She’s searching for a missing family member and the fate of millions hangs in the balance.
Since the fall of ISIS, radicalized recruits from the internet have been ineffective at bringing mass casualty terror back to America. The Islamic State recognizes they need leadership and training. The caliphate has just the right man for the job; they’ve sent him to America. Before he begins organizing a network, his first group of home-grown mujahedeen will strike in East Texas. DHS Agent Jack McCarthy enlists John’s aid in stopping them…
Storylines that are as fresh as those in today’s headlines.
COMING MAY 2020
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Dan Arnold
About the Author
Born in Bakersfield, California and abandoned by his parents in Seattle, Washington. After living in the foster care system for some years, Dan Arnold was eventually adopted. He’s traveled internationally, lived in Idaho, Washington, California, Virginia, and now makes his home in Texas with his wife Lora. They have four grown children and three grandchildren of whom they are justifiably proud, not because they are such good parents, but because God is good.
A Member of the Association of Christian Fiction Writers, and Western Writers of America, in 2015, writing under the name Daniel Roland Banks, his book Angels & Imperfections was selected as a finalist in Christian Fiction in the Reader’s Favorite International Book awards.
READ MORE ABOUT DAN ARNOLD HERE
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