Publisher’s Note: Previously, I published a fictional narrative of a very personal nature that painted a grim picture of the possible outcomes police aggression and over-reach in America will look like. I suspect the future holds a much more macabre reality on a larger scale of the insurgency against statist police militarization and misbehavior that is recognizable by anyone in America who is paying attention. On reflection, large swaths of American history are influenced by the machinations and misbehavior of government policing mechanisms like the twenty years of tax and regulatory enforcement by the British Regulars in colonial America and the two Fugitive Slave Acts (1793 and 1850) that created the formative police state in America before the Second American Revolution in 1861.
This isn’t about the misdirection and illusion of the national election of the latest gaseous meat-puppet running to purchase the Offal Office. Want a barometer of political delivery of freedom? Pay attention to the real practice of politics on the streets of America by the enforcers of armed bureaucratic will, the badged thuggery. That’s the true measure of liberty, not your ability to elect yet another feedlot owner in the next quadrennial serial killer beauty contest. Nation-states are nothing more than rather sophisticated plantation combines scattered around the planet.
I would like to press home that I wish this to remain a work of troubled imagination but I fear that the government domestically will keep pushing until the following fictional account becomes a bloody reality. I had promised this chapter would take on a proportion even more dramatic than the last one. There are literally thousands of angered and maligned former vets with very special skills who could pull off much of what I describe in not only one city but many simultaneously and I assure you the police are not prepared and they will respond in a fashion that will bring even more of the same. The most obese occupation in America have all the best kit at tax Helot expense but neither the skills nor discipline to use them to effect. There is a reason they sell regular production “tactical” pants for police with 60′ waists. Five feet…
This is yet another sample chapter from my novel in progress.
In other news, I have just completed five of six parts of a series I am doing with ProfCJ at the Dangerous History Podcast on Irregular Warfare. Due to technical difficulties (on my part), we have yet to complete it but we are working on it. Indeed, we started with one part anticipated and ended with six and potentially more.
I wrote the Foreword for my friend Jim Rawles’ latest book, Land of Promise, which is now available for pre-order on Amazon.
My books are available on Amazon and I would love some honest reviews if you have the time. -BB
“Jim, what did dispatch say about that accident up ahead?”
“Three miles ahead near mile marker 43.”
“Call that in that we are on the way.”
Wiley listened to the portable police scanner, the older gentleman who had manhandled the steel cover strategically on the overpass that night with his son had a father who was an engineer like himself and had observed the Operation Plumbbob tests in 1957 as a test administrator and had told his young son the story of a 2000 pound steel cap that had been launched into the air during the Pascal-B portion of the test. It gave him an idea. In the opposite direction.
The manhole cover dropped approximately 45 feet from the overpass and weighed about 150 pounds, it cratered into the front windshield of the patrol car and pasted the driver and his companion, they were both dead within minutes. The occupants saw a blur and faded to black in a millisecond. The patrol car actually lost 15 miles per hour in an instant with the impact it was so severe.
Three months ago, Wiley had been stopped for a broken tail light by the very same cops he had just killed. That night they had stopped him for a minor traffic violation and before everything was said and done, he and his wife had been beaten and tazed and he watched as his wife was mauled by both men for coming around the car to defend her husband. She was still traumatized by the event.
Wiley would not let that stand.
He was not alone.
The news was peppered with frothy reporters and other government apologists getting on the “war on cops” bandwagon. Even though the historical incidence of cops killed in the line of duty had increased, the ratio was still seriously skewed on the number of dead Americans on the streets at the hands of the cops. The ratio had rocketed from about 30:1 to 55:1 as frightened cops started shooting and tazing even more innocents than previous records.
For the first time since the 1930s, cops were actually facing a nascent resistance to their occupation on US streets. One could see the emerging trend line of distrust of the police with the 1972 Drug War ratcheting up the war on civilians and the inevitable perverse incentives that slowly militarized and polarized the cop on the street against the ordinary civilians they were allegedly protecting. The police bombing of the MOVE headquarters in 1985, Waco, Ruby Ridge and then finally 9/11 had opened the floodgates for government abuse of even the most mundane variety being escalated to mortal consequences for the slightest resistance to the authority of the police forces.
Newton’s Third Law was going live with a vengeance.
Decker turned to Rourke, his features hardened in a frown. “Alright, Bill, it looks like we have a green light, everyone is in position.”
Bill Rourke: “Roger, I think every infil and exfil is covered.” They hunkered down in the cramped confines of the tunnel below the busy street above. The street wouldn’t be busy for long because the police were cordoning off the parade route for the funeral for six cops slain at Decker’s hand in a raid gone bad a month earlier.
“Decker, once we go, there is no going back.”
Decker nodded morosely.
The delivery trucks looked perfectly ordinary with the famous logo on the side recognizable by anyone who ever received a parcel at their home or business. On close inspection, they were packed with every variety of package and some larger boxes bearing various commercial legends on the cardboard. Rourke had arranged four of the trucks at various points on the parade route. Bill had used the advice of a “long hole miner” to properly synchronize the explosives and the propane tanks. Depending on the side of the street the vehicles were parked, the starboard or port-side axis of the trucks had been strengthened with asymmetrical commercial trailer shocks and thick metal on the same vehicle walls to make the blasts directional. Several of his colleagues had spent time in the sandbox and provided their C-IED expertise. The entire crew involved in the operation had unpleasant encounters with the police or family members had been maimed or killed. Rourke’s own daughter had been murdered by the local Sheriff’s Department.
So far none of the badged malefactors had suffered anything more than administrative leave. That would change this morning.
Rourke knew this was a gambit he would not ultimately survive most likely.
If the cancer doesn’t kill me, the manhunt certainly will.
The Tucson police assistant chief swiveled in his chair and stared at the manifest in front of him. They were conducting a mass funeral for the slain officers from a month previous when the failed raid had cost the lives of the men and the killer, Decker, was still at large but the subject of a nationwide manhunt. They’d been knee-deep in planning this politically important event for the better part of two weeks.
Chief Smith: “How many PD’s have sent representatives?”
Thank God this is the last meeting.
Slater responded: “Sir, 1305 departments have sent a total of 1576 officers to attend the funeral, one of the largest turnouts in recent history. This tragedy has really united the blue line. Here in the department we will have 426 mustered for the funeral to include attendees and traffic control along the route. We also have a fairly sizable contingent of Feds and inter-agency jurisdictional pax coming to the funeral. No total numbers yet.”
“God, that’s a lot of cops in one place. Any chatter on the inter-agency task forces and fusion centers on any threats to the event?”