Love One Another, page 4
***
Sheriff Ward was now at the podium in the briefing. “I want to thank the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Department of Homeland Security for giving resources to move this case along faster than we could have on our own. Agent Reed has been of invaluable assistance to the Carlisle Police Department.
“Our joint investigation has discovered the following:
“Stuart Powell and James West were killed by the explosion of an improvised explosive device, or homemade bomb, last month. The bomb did extensive damage to an abandoned area near Eleventh Street and Riverside Drive. There were no other injuries reported or discovered.
“The construct of the bomb was an empty fire extinguisher filled with potassium nitrate and ball bearings. The detonator appeared to be a modified household timer. There was other material used but for the sake of brevity, I won’t recount them here. They are in the full report, which you can find on our website.
“This type of bomb is consistent with bombs constructed in Syria. We did find correspondence between Mr. Powell and Hamsa Mohammed, a Syrian refugee, moved here by the federal government’s refugee relocation program. The correspondence shows how to construct a fire extinguisher bomb of a very similar design to what we believe Mr. Powell and Mr. West created.
“Our team did obtain ball bearings and traces of other material used to construct this bomb in the backpack of Mr. Muhammed.
“We examined the computers of the Syrian refugee village known as New Rojava and did find a site from which the bomb making process could be obtained. We also found several communications between Mr. Mohammed and radical Islamists.
“In addition, we found video evidence of Mr. Powell ranting on his computer about how the Syrians must leave and he had a plan to get rid of them. We discovered some deleted texts with the cooperation of the families that indicate that the plan was to create a bomb and detonate it in Carlisle to implicate the Syrian refugee community.
“Finally, based on testimony of family corroborated by other witnesses, Mr. Muhammed did not associate with Mr. West or Mr. Powell over the weeks leading up to the explosion. While it is ill advised, it isn’t a major crime to visit these sites or discuss bomb making. The crime occurs when you act on the information once obtained or fail to warn the authorities of impending terror attacks. Since Mr. Muhammed was unaware an attack was planned based on the evidence and further, he did not associate with them while the bomb was constructed. Mr. Muhammed did not commit a crime by these definitions.
“Based upon this evidence, it’s the conclusion of the Carlisle Police Department, the FBI and DHS that Mr. Mohammed while supplying information had nothing to do with the actual bomb making, its intended target, or its detonation. He will be released into the custody of his family. This case is closed.
“I’ll take questions now.”
The cameras cut to Rima and Amena who were overjoyed and demonstrated it with hugs and smiles.
The camera also went to the West and Powell families. Yosef thought the mothers were crying. The men near them were angry.
After Yosef translated the news to the watchers in the club house, there was much dancing and jubilation.
He went to the door to look at the protestors. People were leaving, deflated. Some left their signs stuck in the ground.
***
Hamsa returned with Rima and Amena a few hours later to a welcoming party.
Yosef addressed the group before he left. “This country isn’t like where you left. They follow the law, not a dictator. They don’t always get it right. The people have firm beliefs sometimes before they get the facts. It’s still better than a dictator, who lives only to feed his own lusts and ego. I’m proud of you as a people. You stood up to the worst in others without showing the worst in yourselves. Now is a time to heal.”
Hamsa came over to thank Yosef for his kindness during this tragic time in his life. Yosef was standing next to the burned field garden and praying for abundance.
“Hamsa, you’ve been spared for a purpose. This could’ve been very bad for you, your family and your entire village. You must stay away from these radical places and look to contribute to the greater good in this land now. Not all get second chances. Stu and Jimmy received justice, but you’ve been granted mercy. Use it wisely.” Yosef said as he hugged Hamsa with one arm.
“Please come back to cooking class once this settles down.”
“I will Yosef. Thank you again. No words can express my deep thanks.”
***
William West, Jimmy’s dad went online to say he thought the whole thing was a conspiracy cooked up by the Feds to get the Syrians off the hook and we shouldn’t believe any of it. He encouraged people to continue the protests until they were driven out. His comments got a small following and were reposted by the Pure Americans, but people had other things to do, and it fizzled until another incident might come along. A short time later, the West family moved away from Carlisle, not to return.
MAY
Chapter 5
A gang war moved into the void left with Da Wyz’s death. The Biz worked hard to keep territory. The Mayans did everything they knew how, to take it. Sooner or later, it had to spill over.
Innocent people became collateral damage, the first were many of the family members of the gang heads on both sides, then it moved to the general populace in Villa Maya and Broken Wharf.
Sheriff Ward and Carlisle’s finest countered with arrests of the gang heads. But it seemed that when one head was arrested or killed, another arose quickly to take their place. The allure of money and power was too much for the young, impoverished men to resist.
MX 60’s leaders remained the only gang that didn’t have lots of turnover at the top. Juan and Carlos were good partners in this. Especially now that Da Wyz was gone.
Carlos dropped out of José’s cooking class a few weeks ago and now focused on staying free and staying alive. I can’t take much more of this. Too much bloodshed, but I see no way to stop it. Juan seems to enjoy this. He was like a field commander sending troops to battle. I’m weary, but I can’t show that to the gang, Carlos thought as he barricaded himself in another hide out for the night.
***
Mario, now head of the Biz, determined to subdue the Mayan threat and started sending gangs into VM to shoot things up. If they hit bystanders, so be it. The shootings happened with too much regularity, and with plenty of Latinos in the emergency department of University Hospital.
Juan decided to strike back and sent a team into the heart of the Wharf in broad daylight.
“Diego, I want you to take three homies and go shoot up the residences on Commonwealth. That must be where the Wharf Rats are breeding. We got to send a message. You can’t come to Villa Maya and shoot us up for free. It’s time to take it back to them,” Juan said. Carlos looked on and couldn’t dispute the logic. He cheered the team as they left. His heart ached at the thought of the carnage about to be inflicted.
***
As MX 60’s cruised down Commonwealth, Officer Jim Lemoyne, on his beat, noticed them. The car, painted with such a luminous color looked out of place. He decided to slowly pursue to see what was going to happen.
What happened next horrified him. The Mayans got to the residential section and began to shoot out of each window in the vehicle.
“No!” Jim yelled to no one in particular. He was almost two blocks behind. I never dreamed they’d just open fire. “Base, this is Officer Lemoyne in Car Baker 15. We have active shooters on Commonwealth Avenue near Ninth Street. I’m in pursuit, send back up. Send Ambulances and EMT’s this is going to be very bad. Dear Lord, help us.” He hit the siren and flashing lights.
The sight of the police so close must’ve got their attention, the driver hit the gas. As they drove by Ms. Roberta’s group of mothers meeting on the corner. They’d been meeting here for months now doing their part to stop gang violence. All the ladies ducked down to the ground as fast as they could, but not before two were hit by gunfire.
The hoopti sped down Commonwealth, side swiping a parked car. It careened back into the road into the path of on oncoming pickup truck. The impact set off airbags in all directions. The shooters weren’t wearing seatbelts, so they were thrown all over the car.
Officer Jim caught up to them. One shooter hopped out and ran. The other three were injured. He pulled two from the car. He yelled at the driver, “Get out and show your hands.”
“I can’t officer, the door won’t open.”
“Wait there, help is on the way.”
Backup arrived in two minutes. By then, Jim had one in cuffs and the other with hands behind his head face down.
The other officers extracted the driver, Diego Duran, who was missing teeth and still stunned from the impact.
Jim spoke into his chest mic, “We have a perpetrator on foot, last seen running north away from Commonwealth near Twelfth Street. He is a Latino male, with brown pants and a bright yellow t-shirt. Armed and dangerous. I need to go back down the street to search for victims.”
As Jim backtracked a couple of blocks, he found Ms. Roberta’s group of mothers. One of them already called 911. Shirley Smithson was hit in the back and was bleeding profusely. LaWanda Jackson died on the scene. Gunshot wound to the head. Officer Jim wept over her. If I had only stopped them, when they drove by. These ladies were here trying to stop this. Dear Lord, something must change.
Ms. Roberta was also crying over both of them. Before Jim arrived, she pulled off her jacket and tried to stop the bleeding from Shirley. The paramedics arrived fast and took over.
Jim got up and moved further down the street to see if there were any more casualties. He knocked on doors of homes, on each side of the street, with bullet holes in them. He grabbed his mic and reported, “No other injuries noted.”
***
Mateo was still running when the Wharf Rats caught up to him. There wasn’t much left to identify the body when they finished their retribution.
Where are all the fathers
I see the broken families tossed by the storm
There seem only to be mothers who hold them together
The fathers are gone to seek selfish gain
The fathers are gone because of their own pain
The fathers are in prison, on drugs or at war
They seem not to care for the children they bore
Their fathers left them
Why shouldn’t they go
It makes the child tougher
When dads vanish
This is a lie
Convenient but not true
Do the fathers truly just not care
They are driven by lust that is instinct in most
They want to avoid the results that they host
Sons and daughters need fathers too
The holes left by absent dads are gaping and deep
Many try their whole lives to fill the cavity
They are not the people they could be
Because no father guided them
Fathers say they don’t deserve such reprimand
They didn’t ask to have so many children who demand
So much attention and resource
We want to be carefree
Ignoring the scars that our absence leaves
Even after completeness the wounds leave a trace
Both generations miss blessings abundant
When they reflect they are full of regret
Did he not see me worthy of love
Can she not stand on her own
We were made for relation
To each generation
It is easier to be gone than to wrestle the beast
Please fathers reflect on the path you have chosen
Your truancy is stinging to those left behind
Your children, their mothers, the rest of the land
Have hearts that are scarred by the absence of your hand
We must have our fathers in the homes
They can be safe places with you in the midst
Your frustration is clear
But you are needed here
We can try and be better at giving examples
Of fathers who love and give it abundant
We know that we all seek the love of our dad
If we reflect on what we missed they were not all bad
I lament the father who did not know best
I lament the father I have not been
Help me move on and let the pain rest
Abba Father forgive me for being a poor dad
Forgive me for being a sinful child
Help me to forgive my absent father
Empower me to break this pattern
Show me how to be a father like you
MAY
Chapter 6
The IRS audit of Paul Stanley’s business, Stanley Builders, that began last fall, now moved from bad to awful. Mike Winter, the chief financial officer, made a frantic call to Paul.
“The IRS seized our bank account today. I suspect they’re going to seize your personal accounts too. You should check with the bank. You may want to pull a bunch of cash, so you can live for a while.”
“I am about to tee off with a very important potential investor. Can’t this wait until this afternoon? What’s going on with you anyway? I thought you had them buffaloed on the audit. You didn’t tell me there was a problem. My name and the company name are going to show up as federal violators. You owe me better than this. I thought you were good at your job.”
“Paul, I am good, we don’t need to do this over the phone. Get some cash out. I’ve called our attorneys and out tax accountants. We can fight this, but you’ll need money to live. After the initial seizure, they’ll give us some cash to keep operating. We won’t be able to hold them off any longer. We’re going to have to show them all the books, for all the companies.”
“Only a couple are under audit, we don’t have to show them everything. They’re not even looking at the investment company. Keep your head and earn the money I overpay you.”
“You’d better focus on the cash and remember if you take out more than $10,000 at a time, you’re going to get reported as a potential money launderer. Best to keep it below the ten K,” Mike said.
“I’ll get some cash, but you need to get the business unfrozen. Now!” Paul said.
Paul hung up and told his golf guest, “The business cannot run without me for a minute.” He stepped to the other side of the golf path and called his attorney, Bill Shire. “I want a court injunction on them today!”
After his lackluster round of golf, Paul went to two banks where he had accounts and withdrew $9,000 from each. Then he went to his main bank, the Bank of the New South and withdrew $9,500 more. That should be enough to live on for a month until we get this sorted. Mike better get this sorted or we won’t make the next payroll.
After locking the stash in the safe at his estate Up the Hill, Paul showered, drove to the office to meet with Mike and Special Agent Steven Moore. They met in the conference room adjoining Paul’s office with it marble top conference table and fine black leather chairs. It was decorated with artist’s renderings of all the projects done over the years by Stanley Builders.
“Agent Moore, I understand you’ve seized my assets today. What do you think you’re doing? I’m the president of the Chamber of Commerce. An elder in my church. Everything I do is out there for all to see. What would make you do this to us?”
“Mr. Stanley, the IRS doesn’t do such things unless we believe we’re not being taken seriously. We have significant questions about your real estate dealings, your treatment of like kind exchange investments, and we aren’t getting prompt and clear responses. All the data Mr. Winter provides is piecemeal and it’s obvious to us you’re trying to confuse our agents. After repeated attempts to clarify the data and multiple attempts to communicate with you, we couldn’t find any other way to get your attention. Frankly, we’re fed up, sir.”
Paul looked at Mike, “Is this so? Have you been stonewalling this audit?”
“No sir, Paul. We’ve been giving them what we can, in the time we have. You know we’re short staffed. We just can’t go any faster. We have the business to run on top of these requests.”
Paul shook his head in disgust and looked back to Agent Moore. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how bad this has gotten. What do we need to give you to unfreeze our assets? We have payroll to make at the end of the month, less than a week away. You must want my employees to be paid.”
“Now that we have your attention, we’ll work with Mike to release funds for approved expenses. In the meantime, we need our data requests to be taken seriously and acted on promptly. I want the overdue requests filled before I’ll release anything, for the payroll or other vendors.”
Paul was pleased to see that the IRS didn’t seize his personal assets also. He kept the cash he took out, just in case.
Once this is done, I’m going to get rid of Mike. He knows too much and he’s not very bright. A proper payment will make him go away. What a pain this whole thing is. Why don’t they leave business alone and let us create jobs? They just get in the way of folks who know what they’re doing.
MAY
Chapter 7
The Saturday after the shootings in the Wharf was the day of the late afternoon wedding of Jesus Esteban to Maricela Rodriguez. The same couple whose Christmas time engagement party that signaled José’s arrival in Carlisle when he created a meal for the ages.
Saint Francis of Assisi Catholic Church, adorned in its finest, was the place for the nuptials with Father Menendez presiding. The church had a grand outdoor staircase leading into the sanctuary. Ideal for wedding photo shoots and staging the wedding party.
The May afternoon was a Chamber of Commerce day in Carlisle with a cloudless sky. The smell of fresh cut grass along with roses and peonies filled the air.
The bridesmaids all dressed in strapless, flowing lavender gowns gathered outside on the grand staircase awaiting the processional. The bride was in the lobby just inside the doorway in her off the shoulder dress with long train. She had eight attendants not including the flower girls. A gentle breeze blew.
