Dirty Dots

361.

We agonize past tense introductions and situational updates. After a brief cat and mouse exchange I ask, perhaps a little too bluntly, what the present meeting is designed to accomplish. Sergeant Carothers informs me that they are overbooked and need to "assign, book, transport or release' at least ten of the insurrectionists. The goal of the meeting is to determine who wins the 'get out of jail free' cards and who gets all-expenses paid trips to the big house.

Why this is a controversy I cannot understand - a situation I find grossly appalling. That such discussion are necessary, in my opinion, is criminal in itself, as every one of the temporarily incarcerated far-right insurrectionists are guilty of several felonies, a handful of gross misdemeanors and high crimes against the state. Of this there should be no debate.

"Frankly, we don't have the facility or the manpower to accommodate this volume, so as of right now, we are sending paperwork upstairs requesting the release of these prisoners." He pushes a handwritten list of the lucky ten in my direction, across his cluttered desk, past the pad of neon green sticky flags I note, and just to the left of an old school yellowed Scotch tape dispenser.

Without speaking I take the roster and give it a ceremonial once-over. The eyes of the four are upon me as I read. Satisfied that sufficient drama has been introduced to an already tense scene, I gently place the list back on his desk and announce, "I have a solution to your dilemma in the form of an option."

Seemingly relieved by the temporary change of subject, or that their responsibility as leaders has been assumed by an outsider, they all raise inquiring chins to my counter-offer.

"Authorize and assign them all into my custody, give me an hour to arrange for bus transportation and a suitable destination and all your logistic problems are solved."

Fully expecting an unanimous and grateful response I am somewhat surprised by the silence that masquerades as an answer. But I wait for the first verbal objection to see what level of cover is attempted, the debate equivalent of asking your foe what weapons he intends to bring to the street fight.

"Will you charge them?" Carothers asks shamelessly.

"To the fullest extent of the law, as they say."

Agent Kirkpatrick asks for permission to speak, "If I may present something of a alternative offer, we feel, most of us, that there is enough gray area here to save tons of paperwork and evade the court process, meaning tax payer dollars, by releasing those who are going to plead down to misdemeanor trespassing anyway," he begins, the first sentence of what sounds like a long-winded defense of the indefensible.

I listen as if I am considering the idea - keeping eye contact with him for its entirely. When he finishes I provide a flat and emotionless. "No."

It is at this point that it becomes apparent that the rules of the game have changed to accommodate my request for, what? Justice? Truth? Pay back? Honesty? Protocol? Law and Order? Respect for the badge? Right and fucking wrong?

Answering my own question with the proper answer of 'all of the above', I take my cell phone from my pocket and call Julie making sure that everyone in the room clearly hears my order for a police bus and temporary local facilities to transport, hold and begin interrogation for ten of the domestic terrorists arrested after the attempted coup on the California State Capitol. I emphasize the domestic terrorists label.

The room instantly returns to its former muted state. Sergeant Carothers' face is red as a birthday balloon and he looks like a cardiac incident about to happen. Terminating the call with Julie, I open my photo folder to the pic I snapped during my forensic inspection of the totaled ProMaster. I place the phone on his desk showing the neon green sticky flag and its cryptic note alongside the source pad of the same description, mothership to pod explorer.

It takes the Sarge less than two heartbeats to connect the dirty dots.