She Is Risen (She Is Risen: The Gun Control Case Studies) (25 page)

Henri Edwards and a member of his
security detail emerge from the outer doors of The House of Representatives
where a crowd of reporters have gathered.  He smiles wide as he steps forward
to a makeshift podium and pseudo press conference that has been organized at
the top of the stairs.

            “Thank you all for coming on such short notice.”
Henri speaks warmly with a friendly gaze, waving his right hand respectfully at
the reporters.  “I know you want a follow-up on the speeches that I have been
giving regarding the horrible gun violence that has been festering in America these past few years.  This is an important priority to me as The Speaker of The
House, a responsible citizen, and a father.  I have committed to make radical
changes for gun control that will limit collateral damage and bloodshed in our
streets, while still allowing God-fearing Americans to bear arms and protect
their families. 

            Today, I ask you ladies and gentlemen of the
press why we didn’t catch the gunman in the Colorado theater shooting.  Why
have we missed so many of these folks who go out and shot up schools?  How
could we, with such a large budget for national defense; have missed such
terrible people who were stocking arsenals with ammunition purchased on the
Internet?”

            “I’ll tell you why…” Henri’s voice becomes quiet
for a moment, and then builds back up.  “These men were not caught ahead of
time… because they’re white.  Since Nine Eleven, our country has focused
strictly on bad men with turbans, or bad men with dark skin.  We have become so
ethnocentristic in our approach to security and profiling, that we are letting
psychopaths slip right through our fingers.  A man shouldn’t be able to buy
full body armor on the Internet and over 3,000 rounds of ammunition without
popping up on some sort of screen… as a red flag.  This should be the case
regardless of the color of his skin or his religious beliefs.  It’s time for us
to all sit down as Americans and realize the hard truth, that… there are bad
Americans among us, and we need to find them… before another school gets shot
up, or a movie theater, or a football game.  The violence is not going to end
until we look for the violent people stalking our own backyards.  This type of
action doesn’t require any new laws.  All I need from The President of The
United States is the funding and the executive approval to make it happen.  And
as a father, The Speaker of The House, and a citizen of the greatest country on
earth, I feel it is my right to know these protections are in place.  No one
has questioned random screening and checks at the airports, and look, we
haven’t had a hijacking or incident since those policies were put in place. 
Let’s keep doing our job to keep America safe, but not just from men in turbans
or people of dark skin.  Let’s agree that every color of people and every
religious group possesses the potential for evil, and we need to monitor them
to keep our children… and our future… safe.”

“We’re working late!” Henri says
with an ambitious stare as he hangs his jacket on the back of the leather
swivel chair at the center of the OBDAT platform.

            “I gathered that…” Lorabell replies with
frustration as she stretches in her seat on the right side of the control
panel.

            “We’re still a few weeks out,” Maxwell says with
drastic pessimism from his position on the left, “even having our teams on the
ground, there’s no way we can get three subjects to boil over in two days!”

            “We’ll be getting some extra hands.” Henri beams
with childish energy.  “Mason is on the ground in Texas with Ned and Sally. 
He’ll be helping us to quarterback assets in Virginia and California as well. 
With him commanding the assets on the ground, our time will be cut in half.  He
also has the ability to improvise, so all we need to do is tell him what we’re
trying to achieve.”

            “When did Mason leave for Texas?” Lorabell asks
with some confusion.  “I thought he was still here in his office…”

            “Nope, he flew out to Texas last night after The
President ordered him to assist us by any means necessary.” Henri affirms with
a supplicated ambition.  “All you need to do is tell him what effect we’re
trying to have on the subjects and he’ll add enough aggression to the formula
to put this baby to bed.  So where are we?”  Henri asks, clasping his hands
together in preemptive triumph.

            “May and Ned are in severe states of depression;
they could easily be pushed over the edge if we do it right.” Lorabell reports
with a bit of doubt in her voice.  “Phillip was jacked up after the gang
members drove by his home last night, but he’s not as broken as the other two.”

            “How do we make him as broken as the others?”
Henri demands with an intense glare, showing off his lack of patience.  “I know
you have an idea… Tell me!”

            “There is something I was planning to do, but
wanted to wait a few days to see-“ Lorabell stops short as The Congressman
blares over her like an emergency vehicle.

            “Do it!” Henri interrupts, not wanting to waste
another minute.  “Whatever you’ve got to make Phillip vulnerable- use it!”

            “I don’t know that I feel comfortable-“ Lorabell
begins with a look of despair and shame, still feeling overwhelmed by the loss
of Julia.

            “You’re not here to feel comfortable!” Henri
retorts with a scornful stare.  “I don’t know what kind of creampuff you’ve
turned into, but we’re very close to getting the results that we need.  Here
you are; standing on the edge of a psychological breakthrough, afraid to take a
leap from the lion’s head because someone got hurt.  Well, what happens when
these people go nuclear on us, Lorabell?  Will you feel sorry for Ned when he
guns down an unarmed man for a crime that was already passed through our
courts?  Do you want to watch him shoot someone who already spent years in
prison for what he did?  What about when May snaps one day and starts to shoot
up her neighborhood because the only thing she has left is to spread her misery
across the entire community?  How about our dear Phillip?  An ex-marine who can
barely hold a part-time job?  How are you going to explain to Letisha’s mother
that Phillip went over the edge and killed her baby girl because some primal
part of him wanted to end her suffering?” 

            “How does this really help the case study data?”
Maxwell inquires, looking at Henri with suspicious eyes.  “I don’t really
understand how the data is useful if we are manipulating these people into-“

            “Because if these people,” Henri interrupts,
gesturing toward the LCD displays, “execute an attack on American soil, without
it being self-defense… Then we have a legal reason to suspect all such people. 
I don’t hate Phillip, Ned, and May, but I do know that they are emotionally
unstable.  Julia already demonstrated how volatile they can be with only a
little bit of coercion.  You people need to realize that life can be as bad… as
it can be good.  For one person who is winning the actual lottery, and watching
all their dreams come true; another person is losing the emotional lottery, and
watching their nightmares come true.  It takes a strong stomach to serve your
country, and that’s what I expect from both of you…”  Henri glances at Lorabell
and turns slowly to gaze at Maxwell, looking inspirational and patriotic in his
tall chair.  “But I’ll give you a choice…” Henri says with sincerity in his
pale blue eyes.  “If you believe that it’s impossible for someone to lose the
emotional lottery, and have a life filled with shit on top of shit, then go
ahead and walk away.  If you’ve never heard a story about someone getting hurt
over and over again because of the lifestyle or place they happen to grow up in,
then go ahead and leave.  If you feel that there is no such thing as ultimate
despair, sure as there is ultimate bliss, then you are welcome to go…”

            Maxwell and Lorabell look at one another; both
of them knowing that Henri is playing an emotional game of chicken, but neither
wanting to flinch.  They consider his words for a moment, weighing out the
possibilities of how much pain life could deal out to one person.  After
perusing through so many case studies, reading snippets from history about mass
genocides, and understanding the nature of evil; neither dares to walk away. 
Lorabell considers The Holocaust, thinking about what she would have done
during such dire circumstances; there is no way to predict human behavior under
that type of pressure.  Maxwell thinks about his own past, the things he put
people through in the name of pride, realizing what he might have become had
Henri not recruited him for this program.

            “It looks like you’re both onboard.” Henri
points out after a few minutes of silence.  “This is your show, Cardigan; let’s
see how far we can go… and if these people are strong enough to withstand the
worst pain that we can dish out…”     

NED LAWHORN

            ‘A steady hand breeds a reliable cowboy,’ Ned
thinks to himself as he drinks down another shot of Jack Daniel’s Whiskey.  The
house is silent without Chemo running around; his tail wagging that typical
canine greeting.  Ned looks down at his hands, holding the shot of whiskey out
in front of his face as he lets the hours go by, ticking away at his life like
a train barreling down the tracks towards an inevitable last stop.  He glances
down at his recent text messages from Sally who has been calling him so many
names, but not saying what she really means…  It’s over.

            Ned pulls his head back hard as he shoots the
whiskey down, wanting to finish poisoning his soul after a long bout with
hope. 

            “Hope is the worst thing in the world…” Ned
announces in a whimsical, drunken slur.  “The world is a beautiful mess… I
wonder why people get rewarded for going off the rails like they do…”

            He looks down at his recent log of text
messages, wishing for some last echo of hope coming from his beloved redhead. 

            Ned thumbs through the messages slowly, which
read:

            7:43 am: WHERE ARE YOU? I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED
WITH YOU AND THAT SLUT, TRAITOR!

            7:56 am: ANSWER ME! IF YOU EVER WANT TO SEE ME
AGAIN YOU BETTER ANSWER ME!

            8:19 am: YOU’RE A COWARD, NED LAWHORN, AT LEAST
BE MAN ENOUGH TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED.

            9:27 am: WHAT DOES IT MATTER..?

            Ned uses his thumb to flip the last text message
to the right, triggering the phone to automatically dial Sally’s number.

            “Where have you been!?” Sally demands, answering
her phone with a mix of concern and rage.

            “Chemo is dead…” Ned says slowly, holding the
bottle of Jack Daniel’s tight against his forehead.  “A drunk driver ran him
over.”

            “Chemo was not run over, Ned,” Sally says
quickly, dismissing his claim, “you’re just drunk and reliving old, painful
memories.”

            “No,” he replies softly, shaking his head from side-to-side,
“the dog is dead.  He’s still up on the road… Got run over by a drunk driver
yesterday afternoon.” Ned begins to sob as he continues to speak. “It’s so
quiet here without him, Sally; too quiet without anyone...”

            “Ned, I need to know something,” Sally asks,
holding the phone tight to her ear, “did you have sex with Mary recently?”

            The elderly oil worker begins to laugh at the
thought of having sex with a woman half his age; even in his drunken state, it
seems impossible.

            “I didn’t call for you to humiliate me and
laugh, Ned,” Sally replies with outrage, “you could have just said yes or no! 
I guess you’re not the man I thought-“

            “Sally, you must be drunker than me…” Ned says
with a flattered smirk, staring out at the evening sky, “if you think that a
woman like Mary would ever be with me.  Who the hellll, told you that tall
tale, anyway?  Some old gal that I used to date, trying to get your goat..?  Guess
she fooled you!”

            Sally begins to chuckle as she holds the phone
pensively to her ear, realizing how ridiculous the whole story sounds when
discussed aloud. 

            “Yep,” Ned says with a broad, intoxicated grin,
“I got with: Mary, Danica Patricks, and that sweet little country singer- old
whatersname… Just can’t keep my hands off all the young women folk that show up
on my doorstep these days.”

            Sally’s eyes begin to water with pure joy,
realizing that she was deceived by the angry, young vixen. 

            “But it don’t matter none,” Ned declares with an
open mouth, “this ole’ cowboy is getting on the road tonight… Gonna’ find out
what all this excitement is about- drunk driving-” 

            “Ned!” Sally interrupts, trying to get his
attention.  “Ned, please listen to me, this isn’t you, honey; someone is
pulling your strings.”

            “A drunk driver took my daughter… A drunk driver
took my dog.” Ned says with a hopeless stare, holding up his index finger and
thumb above the bottle of Jack Daniel’s.  “It’s time for ME to go out drunk
driving and destroy someone’s life… Maybe that’s what it’s all about; just
learn to be free and reckless behind the wheel… To hell with everyone!”

            “Ned, please stop!” Sally commands with
frustration.  “I’m getting in my jeep and I’ll be there soon.  Just stay there
so we can find out what’s going on!”

            “It’s over, Sally, this world is too painful for
an old boy like me.” He says with a wild stare, leaning away from the table and
almost losing his balance.  “I’m going to pay Ralph Epperson a visit… maybe
shoot him down, run him over, set his house on fire… I’m not sure yet…”

            “Sweetheart, don’t go anywhere,” Sally urges him
in desperation; “you still have me!  You’re not alone!”

            “Goodbye my lovely little Sally; my red hen…”
Ned says with despair as tears stream down his face.  “I’m no damn good.  I’m a
coward; like you said!  I should have finished this with Ralph a long time
ago!  Goodbye, baby…” 

            “Ned, please!  Don’t destroy your life, we can
figure this out!”  Sally pleads as the call ends and the phone goes silent.

            From inside her jeep, Sally tries to call Ned
over and over again, driving rapidly to reach his farmhouse as she continually
gets his voice mail.  When she is making the last bend to the left on her way
to Ned’s home, Sally sees a small, brown and white, fur-covered body off to the
side of the road.  Her headlights are aimed directly at the animal as she comes
to full stop.  With a distraught expression she exits her jeep, stepping over
toward the lifeless animal.

            “Oh my God!” She exclaims, immediately
recognizing Ned’s half-crushed dog pushed off to the side of the road.

            Sally looks down at the massive tire track that
ran over the dog, thinking that there is something odd about Mary’s recent lies
and this sudden tragedy.  As she walks back to her jeep and jumps into the
driver seat, Sally ponders any potential enemies who would do this to Ned.  Her
heart leaps in her chest as she realizes that Ralph Epperson may be involved,
and if so, Ned might be in serious danger.  Sally puts the gas pedal to the floor;
she drives a few hundred feet to the farmhouse and slows down to see if Ned’s
truck is outside.  She inspects the area and speeds up immediately after
noticing the truck is not there.  Sally proceeds down the road in earnest,
trying to reach the Epperson home in time.

            Ralph Epperson is seated in a comfortable lounge
chair with his feet propped up on an old wooden coffee table.  He is holding a
beer in his right hand and has a black remote control at the ready on the left
armrest of the padded, brown chair.  His small fingers grip the beer bottle
with lazy satisfaction as he watches a boxing match on HBO.  The forty-five-year-old
looks a bit grim with swollen, bloodshot skin under his eyes, thin tufts of
messy, sweaty hair, and a wide face with beady brown eyes.  There is a half-eaten
can of beans on the nightstand to his right, and an old photo from his married days
that came to an end over ten years ago.