The Issues:
“In sum, low quality candidates are more likely to gamble and make statements about the issues.” i
Isn’t it funny that when we get to know people throughout our lives, we make it a point to know their character? We want to know if they are trustworthy, if they are genuinely caring people, if they would defend us on a real level. Then, when we are judging candidates in an election all we want to know is where they stand on the hot issues of the day. Why is this the case with politicians and not with friends? Why would anyone look at a house and judge it by its paint- job rather than its structural soundness? It seems the political paradigm we find ourselves in is not only the fault of the political parties, but also of the voters.
Everything came down to this moment. Election day was fast approaching and, in three days, the final debate would ensue between President Fitz and Senator Gary Hardin. All this while Senator Elliot’s education bill was being pushed through congress and while the FBI had started investigating people who had government level encryption clearance. They were coming close to a resolution and would find the one person who set everything in motion. They would learn why and the path of United States history would be set right again. At least, that’s what they were hoping for.
There was a man in a suit walking down the road outside the White House. As he turned to go around one of the cars parallel parked, the back door opened and a voice came from inside “Get in, Mr. Pearson.”
He got in and Clark was sitting there, in the back seat with him. “Clark?” He wanted to make sure he was in the right place.
“Yes,” Clark assured him, “Let’s go.” Zack was sitting in the passenger seat and Casey was driving. “I don’t think you’ll want to come back here after this. Have you got everything in order?”
The man nodded, “I’ve moved out and everything and I don’t think anyone suspects. I’m officially a whistleblower aren’t I?”
“Not yet,” Casey said from the front, “not until you’ve actually blown the whistle. At this point, you’re all we’ve got so we’re going to make sure you’re safe first.”
They drove for a while and stopped at a house not far out of the city. “Let’s go,” asserted Clark, “We’ve go a lot to cover. Get comfortable and get something to eat before we get started.”
“Yes sir,” he answered and went inside.
Melissa found a place to park, but she wasn’t sure where to start there in D.C. Have you ever known what needed to be done, known what it takes to get there but have no earthly idea where to start? That’s what Melissa was feeling.
She wanted to do some good before everything was said and done. She knew that she might be able to at least stop whoever it was that was pulling the strings; but she didn’t know where to find that person, whoever it was. She also no longer had her badge. There was one way, however, that she might be able to draw them out. She could turn herself in and tell the FBI everything.
In fact, that is what she resolved to do even after trying to convince herself otherwise on the drive over. She found where the FBI would be, walked up the steps and through the doors. She went straight to the receptionist’s desk and before she could identify herself, she was on the floor in cuffs. You’d think they had mugshots posted or something. Well, it was a police station.
They locked her in an interrogation room and there she sat for some time. This was quite the change for her. It wasn’t so long ago that she sat on the other side of the table trying to get information from the man she framed for Hardin’s murder. Now, here she sat. A detective-looking man walked in and unplugged the camera, “I’d offer you legal counsel provided by the state but your being classified as a terrorist, Miss Daniels. So tell me, why have you got such a vendetta against Senator Gary Hardin?”
“I don’t,” she responded, “I was blackmailed. It’s why I wanted to turn myself in: so I can try and make up for what I’ve done.”
“Is that remorse I hear?” asked the detective, “You’ve been ruthless up to this point.”
Melissa’s face was downcast, “I am the same person I was, but I need a deal if you want the information I have.”
“Why would I do that if I can’t even trust your character?” he asked, “You shot the senator, framed a law abiding citizen, tampered with evidence, lied, and now you say you want to do the right thing. How can I try to trust someone who is so inconsistent?”
“The dead man on the roof,” Melissa gave a little, “I know who he was.”
“And if I give you a deal, you tell me?”
“And more,” Melissa admitted.
The detective left the room and when he came back, there was another man with him. They unlocked Melissa’s handcuffs and led her out of the interrogation room. “We are taking Miss Daniels into FBI custody,” they said as they walked her out of the local precinct and placed her in a black car.
Both of the men stepped into the front seat and the car began to move. “Miss Daniels,” she heard a stern voice coming from her other side. She turned and could not believe her eyes.
“I don’t understand,” she stuttered.
“You’ve caused me some grief. It wasn’t time yet, but you forced my hand.”
“President Fitz?” Melissa was trying to overcome her shock.
“You failed when it came to taking care of Hardin and he was just the first piece of the puzzle and now someone else is going to have to finish your job. I can’t have that man undoing everything that I’ve done.” Fitz’ tone became more indignant the more he spoke, “and I thought you loved your sister.”
“This was you all along? Why?”
“Because it’s the only way to win and the only way to do what’s right for this country,.” Fitz admitted unashamedly.
“You would do all this to accomplish what you think is best for the nation? What about doing what’s right? What about having a standard?” Melissa begged.
“There are no such limits when you want to win. It’s the only way to get there.”
The car screeched to a stop and Melissa looked out the window. They were in an abandoned car garage miles away from civilization. She had to blink a couple times because she thought she saw a random hospital bed, and she did. “What is this,” she asked.
“Get out,” demanded the president.
Melissa did and when she stood up she saw her sister laying on that random hospital bed, “What are you about to do?”
“You, young lady, are about to learn that there are repercussions for not doing what you’re told.” He nodded toward the man already standing next to her sister and he hit one button.
One button is all it took and life was gone. Was this how powerful people with bad character dealt with their enemies? Melissa watched helplessly as the computer showed less and less activity. She couldn’t make any noise at all because the lump in her throat and the knot in her stomach was so grossly oversized. The line on the screen stopped moving up and down, the screen turned red and the computer beeped with this awful high pitched ringing that almost sounded like the scream pressing against Melissa’s skull trying to escape but she couldn’t make a sound.
When sound finally did come out of her mouth, all she could say was “no.” It was a soft and helpless “no” that overflowed from the violent scream erupting from her heart. No was what she should have said from the start. She fell to her knees.
The president emptied a handgun all except for one bullet, set it down beside her on the ground and walked back toward the car, “I don’t lose.”
The secret service agents got back in the care and they drove off. Constant talk about policy and the importance of this new education bill kept people in the dark. Anybody could wear policy and position as a mask when character was what truly mattered. Good character is what would promote individual negative Liberty and good character had to come from freedom. One couldn’t even be a slave to victory. That freedom, it seems, could only come from a source higher than humankind. The political conversation needed to run deeper than issues and policies, but it likely would not. Until it did, though, people should only expect to have their negative liberties trampled on by the establishment.
Melissa looked at the gun, picked it up and pulled back the slide to load the only round left in the magazine. Still screaming on the inside, she held the gun up to her own heart, closed her eyes and held her breath. She placed her finger on the trigger and began to pull. It took longer this time than it had ever taken before: pulling the trigger, that is. It also weighed more. Her hand began to shake and she clinched her teeth. She took a deep breath through those neat little spaces as her lips curled. Finally she began to cry and dropped the gun. She got involved and her sister paid the price. The only thing she could do was set things right and now she knew how. Melissa was going to assassinate the President of the United States. Cause and effect.
“Tell us your story,” Casey said as he and Clark sat with Pearson. Zack stood looking out of the front window and there were agents in the other room.
Pearson began to tell a story of government corruption and power. The type of tale you’d expect to hear on one of those conspiracy shows on t.v. “I was brought in about a year ago,” he admitted, “and I didn’t know much. All I knew was that the V-P seemed to be obsessed with the power. I never trusted him.”
“What about the president, let’s start with him. You were standing outside the room during his act of infidelity.”
“I like the president. He is a good man with good character. The person he was on stage was the same person he was in private. He was honest during his meetings, which made him powerful. He was just as respectful and thoughtful in his office as he was when he was meeting with a foreign ambassador or the leader of another country. It wasn’t just about political correctness. He genuinely cared about people and wanted to understand their positions. It wasn’t until recently that he started hiding parts of his life and that’s where it started. Even good men will make mistakes. No one is perfect. I think that the V-P started controlling him somehow, though. I actually think he’s the one who shot this video. I know for certain, though, that he is the one that turned this video into that news network. I was on duty when he did and I stood outside the door.”
Even a man with impeccable character, like the former president, could make mistakes. If we were to look for good character before all else in our leaders, what were we to look for if every person was capable of making mistakes; or if every person was capable of compromising his own character, even if it was true character, at some point or another?
Casey continued to question him, “Do you think Fitz is connected to the Bellicosus case?”
“I think he was the one behind everything,” Pearson admitted, “and I think he was gunning for the presidency all along. I only wish I had proof because I’m not sure my testimony is enough.”
Casey opened the computer and pulled up the encrypted data that they found on what was once a zip drive. “We found this on a guy’s body who was connected to this. Can you read the files?”
“I’m not sure. We investigate crimes sometimes, but we usually let our tech guys handle the digital evidence. What do you think is on here?”
“We don’t even have a guess,” Casey claimed, “but I hope there is a name and some damning evidence. If you’re right about the Vice President, though, we will need to tread very carefully.”
Pearson pulled the computer over to himself, “Is there any WiFi or internet connection at all here?”
“No, we figured it would be safer without that.” “Good,” Pearson continued. He hit a couple keys and a message came up asking for credentials, “It’s definitely government encryption.” He typed in his name and a very long password only to be denied access. “This is above my security clearance,” he said, “which gives more validity to my theory. This is going to be top level CIA.”
“Thanks for trying,” Casey was disappointed. He pulled up a picture of the man they found in Greenville, “Do you recognize this guy?”
“Yes,” Pearson raised his eyebrows and pinched his lips together, “The V-P met with him. Handed him a yellow envelope, but I don’t know what was in it.”
“You were with him when he did this?”
“Yes,” Pearson continued, “and I’ve seen underhanded politics throughout my service, but nothing ever led to the death of a Senator and the wrong man being accused. At least, not that I know of. There’s a lot I imagine they would need to handle discretely, so I thought nothing of it at the time.”
Impeachment was impossible, or near impossible.
Only two presidents in U.S. history had been impeached, and there wasn’t quite enough evidence to bring against Fitz, though he was most definitely guilty of treason. It was Fitz who authorized the murder of a U.S. senator. It was Fitz who underhandedly made a way for Zack to be charged with that senator’s murder. Brent Woods, if that was his name, met with Fitz and Fitz blew the whistle on the sins of the now former president. He likely had Elliot’s family murdered and not even Elliot had been heard from. Melissa’s sister was also gone.
What was this for? Power? Did he think he was doing some sort of good? Fitz could not be allowed to serve another term. The coming election gave him that chance. Casey sat weighing his options. He was sure that, for the good of the nation, Fitz could not make it to election time. Material evidence was lacking and proceedings would take so long that Fitz’ first official term in office would be over and damage to this great nation done.
Crisis might have been a good way to describe this.
Crisis because Casey was tough, but this was not who he was. Assassination, as far as he was concerned, was murder; but it may have been the only option for the good of many. Was it ever right to do wrong? Was assassination always wrong? Was vigilantism always wrong? What if there was one person so powerful that justice would never be delivered? Was there ever a time to rise against a tyrant, or a potential tyrant?
Casey stood up and walked into the other room with the FBI agent. They talked extensively for hours and came back into the room with Zack’s bag. Casey handed Zack his bag and a note. Zack read it and looked, surprised and disturbed, at Casey. Was there truly no other option?
Zack remembered the guy in the courtroom, the one he shot. He already had blood on his hands and this did seem like the only way if the nation did not want to experience four years of tyranny under a president who was willing to kill to get his way and sly enough to do it without getting caught.
Right or wrong, Zack wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have more innocent blood on his hands. From now on he wanted to see the whole picture, unlike when he was convinced Elliot was to blame. He walked to the computer and took a new zip drive with all the information on it and walked out the door.
Casey, Pearson and Clark stood looking at each other. “I don’t know what else to do,” Casey sat next to Pearson.
They heard the squealing of car tires outside and the slamming of car doors before a team of armed men invaded the house and took all of them away. The future of the United States rested with Zack. The future of personal liberty rested on the shoulders of one man; at least that’s how it seemed. That is unless the people voted for the man who talked more about character and less about the issues. Conversation about issues diverts attention from an examination of the man, but both are important.
They were taken, but the television was left on. It seems that when those who police the state don’t have the manners to help save electricity. The commercial break ended and the news came on with the latest poll. Fitz was projected to win against Hardin because of Elliot’s education bill, not because he was fit for office.