86 - Washington, D.C.
The two Secret Service agents rushed Catherine Quaid off the platform and to a limousine parked on the grass behind the platform. The car was moving before the doors were all closed, streaking back to the White House. The First Lady did not protest.
Once it became apparent that no bomb had detonated anywhere near the crowd, the screaming died down and most people simply stood transfixed where they were, not knowing what to do, responding to the requests to remain calm that could now be heard over the sound system.
Not knowing what else to do, Rabbi Garfinkle motioned for the people on the platform to resume their seats. He conferred for several minutes with a group of March organizers before returning to the microphone.
Just as he was about to speak, however, the sound of sirens could be heard coming from what seemed like all directions. Dozens of olive drab U.S. Army trucks approached at high speed and stopped on all sides of the crowd. Soldiers leaped out. They wore helmets with clear plastic visors. Many of them carried large, clear plastic shields, which they held in front of their bodies as they formed a cordon around the crowd.
A few people attempted to walk past the soldiers. They were told to return to where they had come from. Nobody was allowed to pass.
Another group of soldiers formed a ring around the speakers’ platform, not allowing anybody to get off the platform.
The situation remained static for more than ten minutes as the soldiers waited for orders and the people on the Mall and on the platform waited to see what would happen next. Finally, a dozen SUVs appeared and came to a stop near the platform. Men, and a few women, in civilian clothes emerged from the vehicles and ran to the platform, standing with the soldiers, who were confused as to whether these new arrivals were on their side or were there to try to free the prisoners.
Their allegiance quickly became clear. One of the civilians, accompanied by several men in dark suits, walked up the steps to the platform and approached Rabbi Garfinkle.
“Mr. Harrison,” the Rabbi said. “While I appreciate the protection that has been provided to us, our committee has decided to bring today’s event to a close and to ask everybody to return to their accommodations. We’ll meet this evening and decide whether to go forward tomorrow or not.”
The rabbi gestured down the Mall, to the empty space where the Washington Monument had stood.
“You realize, of course, that we had absolutely nothing to do with that.”
“I realize nothing at this point,” the Attorney General said, “except that ten minutes ago I was standing in the Oval Office with the President and I was an eye witness to the desecration of one of the most sacred symbols this country has.
“I’m a lawyer, Rabbi,” he continued. “There are many things I believe in. One of the things I don’t believe in, however, is coincidence.
“Five seconds after your speaker, a fellow rabbi, orders half a million Jews to go out and commit terrorist acts, five seconds, boom, down goes the Washington Monument. And you want me to believe that was a coincidence? As the chief law enforcement officer of the United States, sir, I can’t buy that. Or do you want me to take what happened as an act of God?”
“I understand why you might be skeptical of my denials,” the Rabbi said slowly. “What are you going to do now?”
“Well, I don’t exactly know what we are going to do. The President, I am told, is being held in a secure location for the moment. I can tell you what I am not going to do, however. Nobody who is here now is going home. Everybody who is on this platform is coming along with my FBI agents here.” He indicated the men in civilian clothes who stood in a perimeter around the platform. Everybody else out there, well, they could have gone home last night, after the President’s talk. I understand that plenty of people did just that. I have to assume that the people who decided to stay here, those folks out there, are the hard core of your movement.
“Now wouldn’t we be foolish to let those people go home? What would they do, go home to New York and blow up the Statute of Liberty? Go back to San Francisco and bomb the Golden Gate Bridge? Or just return to Chicago and shoot up a shopping mall?
“No, sir, we’ll hold onto these people for a while, too.”
Harrison looked at the microphone and turned to Rabbi Garfinkle.
“I want you to get on that microphone and tell people to cooperate with the soldiers, to go along with them. We’ve got trucks and buses coming to take everybody away. It will be a while so ask people to be patient. The trucks and buses will be here soon. Do you understand me Rabbi?”
Rabbi Garfinkle looked at the soldiers standing on the grass around the platform, their faces hidden behind plastic, their bodies crouched behind their shields. He looked out at the crowd, still on its feet, not knowing what to do, waiting for instructions while the ring of soldiers stood encircling them.
He faced the Attorney General, standing at the microphone, then took two rapid steps toward him. The Attorney General stepped backwards so quickly that an FBI agent standing nearby reached out to keep the man from falling off the platform.
“Mr. Attorney General,” the Rabbi said, his voice shaking with rage. “Trucks? Buses? Don’t you have freight cars to take us Jews away?
“You want me to address these people. I am proud to do so.”
He walked up to the microphone and tapped it three times to make sure it was active. The tapping sound made people throughout the crowd turn their heads toward the platform.
“The Attorney General here wants me to order you all to go along peacefully with these soldiers,” Rabbi Garfinkle said, speaking slowly, loudly and clearly. He appreciated that this could be his most important, and possibly his final, sermon. “Trucks and buses will take you away, away to some place where you will be detained.”
His head swiveled to take in the entire crowd of hundreds of thousands of people. His words set off loud shouting.
After several minutes, he raised his hands over his head and asked for quiet.
“I refuse to do that. History taught us what happens when Jews allow themselves to be herded by soldiers like cattle, driven off to the camps in buses, or in trucks, or ...” He turned to face Harrison, who was fuming at him. “… or in cattle cars.
“Don’t be sheep. Don’t make it easy for them to round up Jews. Resist. Fight back. Struggle. Never again, never again, say it now, join me, never again, never again.”
The chant roared from the crowd.
NEVER AGAIN, NEVER AGAIN, NEVER AGAIN.
Harrison gestured to two FBI agents standing at his side. The men walked up to Rabbi Garfinkle, grabbed both arms and marched him, his feet dragging, off the platform. Harrison spoke to another FBI agent, who spoke into a microphone attached to his sleeve. The cordon of soldiers and agents surrounding the platform moved up to its edges, not allowing anybody to leap free. Other FBI agents herded the people on the platform off to one side and down the stairs, where plastic handcuffs were placed on them and they were marched, or carried, or dragged, to waiting buses.
Moments later the soldiers walked into the crowd, their plastic shields held before them, placing plastic handcuffs on everybody within reach. Some people struggled and were beaten to the grass by batons.
While this pandemonium was happening, Judy Katz grabbed Shapiro by the hand and shouted to Sarah Goldberg to stand next to her. Katz ran up to the nearest FBI agent, reaching into her jacket pocket as she approached him. She found her wallet and flipped it open to hold in front of the agent’s face.
“Justice Department, Assistant U.S. Attorney,” she shouted. “I’m with him.” She pointed at Attorney General Harrison.
The agent nodded. She looked like the least threatening person within sight and he was used to working with AUSA’s. Then he looked at Shapiro and Goldberg.
“They’re with me,” Katz said quickly. “Please help me. Get us out of here.” She smiled at the man. Whether it was his training or his hormones at seeing a lady in distress, the FBI agent reacted instantly.
“Follow me,” he said, pushing people aside to make an opening for the three people following inches behind him. He ushered them from the platform and off to the side, away from the screaming mass of people in front of the platform.
“Thanks, agent,” Katz said, flashing another large smile.
“My pleasure, ma’am,” the man said, almost ready to salute. He turned and strutted away.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Sarah said.
“Thank me when we’re out of here,” Katz replied as the three ran toward the far corner of the Capital Building, putting the roundup of hundreds of thousands of Jewish citizens by the United States Army as far behind them as they could.