Author:
Michelle Durgin (mcd724@hotmail.com)
Spoilers:
VS 3Summary: The first anniversary of the tragic events of September 11th
nears and tempers flare. Is revenge ever justified?
Author’s
Note: This story deals with the tragedy of September 11th. Not the
actual event itself, but the repercussions of the event on the lives of others.
If you don’t want to read something that has anything to do with 911, please
stop reading now. Thanks to Lisa for
sticking with me on this. It was tougher than usual this time given the topic.
And a shout out to the organizers of the VS and Abby O. Additional notes at the
end.
Disclaimer:
JAG belongs to CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement of anything is intended.
The following is for entertainment purposes only.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
2147
EST
Beltway
Washington
DC
September
7, 2002
In
his rearview mirror, Kahil Haq could see the headlights bearing down on him. He
slowed to allow the vehicle to pass. However, instead of passing him, the
midnight blue truck pulled along side of him and kept pace with him on the
empty highway. Haq slowed even more to allow the obviously impaired driver
space. The driver also slowed and started honking at him, while the passenger yelled
something out of his window. He couldn’t make out what the man was saying, but
he knew it didn’t bode well. He had given them the opportunity to pass and they
had chosen not to. His only course of action, since there was not an exit in
sight, was to increase his own speed and attempt to get away from his
tormentors. Resolutely, he pressed down on the accelerator. This seemed to
infuriate the driver of the other vehicle. He too increased his speed. To Haq’s
surprise, the vehicle moved closer and closer until he was sure he could reach
out and touch the truck. When the truck actually struck his car, he was not
surprised. He braced himself and attempted to keep the vehicle on the road, but
the large pickup easily pushed his small Focus off the road into the guardrail.
As they dragged his car along the guardrail, he could finally make out what
they were shouting at him.
“Go
back to your cave, you turban-wearing terrorist!”
Just
as his car was about to slam into the signpost announcing the approaching exit,
his life did not pass in front of his eyes. He had time for only two thoughts
before his head smacked into the steering wheel. The first was “Damn Bin
Laden.” The second was prompted by the gold bumper sticker on the truck’s rear
window that was the last thing Haq saw before hitting the sign. As he lost
consciousness, he wondered where exactly the Navy was supposed to go.
{Theme
Song}
{Commercial
Break}
2303
EST
ER
GEORGETOWN
MEMORIAL
WASHINGTON
DC
"Mac,
we have been here for 2 hours, 26 minutes, and 30 seconds." She arched a
questioning eyebrow at him. "I know it's a Marine thing, but it’s not like
I have anything else to do but watch the clock. Can we please go now?"
"No,
not until you get your knee checked. It locked up on you during a walk around
the Mall. Not exactly what I would call a strenuous workout, Harm. We are
staying. Besides I think we get a free gift with this visit or maybe they’ll
name an exam room after us considering the amount of time we’ve spent here this
summer,” she said with feigned enthusiasm.
Harm
rolled his eyes at her, before protesting, "But Mac…"
"As
much as it pains me to say this…No buts about it. Someone has to make sure you
take care of yourself. And lucky for you, you have me." He didn't look
quite convinced. "Well, if you don't want me here, I could give Sturgis a
call. I'm sure he and Bobbi wouldn't mind keeping you company." She let
the empty threat hang in the air.
Deciding
not to take the bait, he glanced around the emergency room. It was relatively
empty, but the nursing staff was still bustling around preparing for the
inevitable influx that accompanied Saturday nights in the nation’s capital.
While
Harm idly contemplated suitable responses, Mac discreetly observed the others
in the waiting room. Across the room curled in his father’s lap was small boy
of no more than three or four. The man’s eyes constantly darted towards the
nursing station as though he could will them to call his son’s name. In the
opposite corner sat an elderly woman. She paid no heed to the hubbub around her
as she knit.
Mac
smiled as she felt Harm idly drumming “Shave and Haircut” on her bare shoulder
with his fingertips. His arm was draped casually around her shoulder as he sat
with his injured leg stretched out in front of him. Reveling in the easy
intimacy of their relationship, she leaned into him resting her still tender
wrist on his thigh. She supposed there were worse places she could be. She felt
Harm pull her closer to his side. Yes, there were worse things than waiting in
the ER.
At
that instant the double doors from the ambulance bay opened and a gurney
surrounded by EMTs, hospital medical staff, and a state trooper looking
slightly out of sorts as the obviously critically injured man was wheeled into
Trauma Room 3. Mac caught sight of the dark-skinned, black-haired man. He was
muttering something and one of the nurses was trying to make out what he was
saying as they hurried into the room. To the medically illiterate, confusion
reigned as the ER doctor called for needed supplies and tests. The relative
quiet of the waiting area was restored as the door shut, drowning out the fight
for life in the trauma room.
Quietly
Mac said, “I hope he’ll be alright.”
Harm nodded his agreement. They both sat silently and, as is prone to
happen when confronted with one’s own mortality, thought of all that they had
done and not done in their lives as of yet. Before they could get too morbid,
the calm of the waiting room was once again interrupted as at least twenty
distraught people, probably related from the looks of them, descended on the
nursing station.
Harm
and Mac watched as an elderly gentleman dressed in black slacks, a short sleeve
white button-up, and a turban attempted to ask the nurse a question. English
was obviously not his first language and the nurse threw her hands up in
confusion and gestured at the empty chairs in the waiting room. The rest of the
family was trying to peer into the trauma rooms, but were being pushed away
from the doors by orderlies who had been called in response to the massive
invasion of people in the waiting room. The women of the group seated
themselves in a corner. They were all dressed in traditional hijab with long
skirts and their heads covered. Emotions
were raw as the room continued to fill with even more people, all obviously
concerned with the well-being of the man who had just been brought in. The
frustration the family felt at not being able to be understood was palpable, as
was the nurses’ in not being able to maintain order as the family continued to
try and find out the man’s condition on their own.
Just
when it looked as though things might take a turn for the worse, the state
trooper emerged from the trauma room. One of the nurses had alerted him to the
possible situation in the waiting room. He surveyed the room and his expression
was touched with equal parts of disbelief and disgust as he took in the sheer
number of people and how they were dressed. He called for order. Since they
didn’t understand what he was saying, but did recognize him as an authority
figure, the entire group, save the women, converged on him. He attempted to
fend them off, but they were too worried to back away. He started yelling at
the orderlies to move them out of the waiting room. This, of course, outraged
them.
Mac
was close enough to overhear them as they badgered the trooper for information.
She realized they were speaking Farsi. The elderly gentleman that was obviously
the patriarch of the family was trying to settle the young men, while trying to
get any information about the condition of his son. She knew their customs
would make it difficult for them to accept her assistance, because she was both
a woman and a foreigner to them, but she could help them find out what they
needed to know. She hoped their concern outweighed their need to maintain their
traditions.
Having
made her decision, she started to stand, but Harm kept his arm around her. He
looked at her, an unasked question in his eyes. He didn’t want her getting
involved, not when the situation was slowly escalating to the point of no
return. His concern touched her, but someone was going to have to step in.
Quickly she explained, “They are speaking Farsi. I can translate. The only
reason this is getting out of hand is because of a lack of communication.” He
reluctantly nodded. He knew she was right, but the group was teetering on the
edge. He watched her carefully as she approached the group surrounding the
trooper, ready to jump into the fray at any moment.
She
approached the older gentleman and addressed him in Farsi. When he realized she
was speaking to him, his shock was evident on his face and then it immediately
turned to distrust. Women, especially foreign women, did not address Amir Haq.
In
Farsi, Mac said, “Sir, I can translate for you so that you may find out what
has happened to your son.”
When
the trooper realized she spoke the same language, he quickly pulled her to him.
“Look, I don’t know what you just said to them, but he understands. Translate
for me. Tell them if they don’t calm down and get a hold of themselves I will
have them all thrown out of here. There are other people who need care and the
staff can’t do their job with all these people running around making a fuss
about some guy who got into a car accident.”
“They
just want to know what happened to the man you brought in. He is this man’s
son. They are concerned. There is no need to throw them out. Just tell them
what they want to know.” Mac was annoyed with the trooper. If they spoke
English, there would be no threats to throw them out, but the turbans probably
didn’t help their case either.
While
the trooper and Mac were talking, Haq decided he had no choice. The woman was
his only chance to find out what had happened to Kahil. He waited for them to
finish and then looked expectantly to Mac and asked, “How is Kahil? Please tell
me how my boy is.” The emotion in his voice caused it to break in the middle of
his plea.
She
turned back to the trooper. “They are not going to do anything until you give
them an update. How is Kahil?”
“He
is in pretty bad shape. He went off the road. Actually, it looks like he was
forced off the road. He hit a sign and clocked his head pretty good on the
steering wheel. He was pretty much out of it when I found him. When he came to
briefly, he was muttering something about the navy. He kept saying ‘Go navy. Go
navy.’ Over and over again. The doctor’s are working on him now. They’ve got
his vitals stabilized, but they are going to have to do a CT scan to see what
kind of damage he did to his head. That’s all I know at the moment.”
“Forced
off the road?” Mac asked. Before the trooper could respond, Haq cleared his
throat. Instead of waiting for clarification, she quickly translated what the
trooper had told her. She added that while she could understand their fear and
frustration, it was necessary that they restore some order to the waiting room.
Once
Amir Haq found out that his son was stable, he quickly got his family organized
and seated. While he passed on what Mac had told him, she went back to her
chair next to Harm and relayed what she had learned. As she was recounting what
she had heard, she realized Haq was standing beside her, regarding her with
grudging respect and gratitude. She stood and waited for him to say what he needed
to say.
“Thank
you. I don’t know what we would have done if you had not intervened. Kahil is
the only one who speaks English among us. We are here for his wedding. Because
of his work visa, he could not leave, so we came to him. Tell me to whom my
family is indebted. I am Amir Haq.”
“Sarah
Mackenzie, and this is my friend Harmon Rabb,” she said gesturing to where Harm
was seated. He quickly stood up and offered his hand to Haq. Haq regarded him
for a moment before awkwardly accepting his hand.
“I
am pleased to meet you both, but I must return to my family. Again, I am very
thankful for your help, but one of Kahil’s associates from work has arrived. He
will translate for us now.” With that he quickly turned and left them.
Before
they could discuss anything further, Harm’s name was called.
0038
EST
MAC’S
APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN
"Despite
spending four hours and thirty three minutes in the ER with you, I am not all
that tired. I think I’ll watch the news and see if that doesn't do me in. Don't
wait up." Mac tucked her bare feet under her on the couch and turned on
the television with the remote.
From
behind the couch, Harm put his hands on her shoulders and placed a kiss on the
top of her head. "Don't stay up too late. 'Night." He turned and
headed into the bedroom while the TV droned behind him. When he heard the
anchor’s first words, he returned to the couch and took a seat next to Mac. He
stretched his legs out in front of him.
"Kahil
Haq, an Iranian engineer, was forced off the road near the Pentagon. He is in
critical but stable condition. The police suspect foul play." Reginald
Leverton glanced down at his notes before continuing. "An APB has been
issued for a new model, dark-colored extended cab pickup truck with a gold 'GO
NAVY' sticker in the rear window with extensive damage to the passenger side.
If you see a truck matching this description or have any information regarding
this incident, please contact the Metro Police at 1-888-555-2677."
Bev
Zelenko continued the report. "Given the proximity to the Pentagon, the
impending anniversary of the tragic events of 911, and Mr. Haq's nationality, a
police insider has indicated that this accident has all the earmarks of a hate
crime. Find out more about this growing phenomenon on our special report, Newfound
Nationalism, at 10 tomorrow."
With
a sigh, Mac turned off the television. "A hate crime certainly fits the
bill or, at bare minimum, just some good old-fashioned intimidation. It's as
though 911 gave people the right to hate indiscriminately. He's Iranian, but
the only thing who ever it was that did this saw, was that he wore a turban and
had a tan." Her words were laced with disgust.
"Come
on, Mac, that’s even a bit cynical for you. September 11th did bring
out the worst in some people, but for the vast majority, it was this tragic
wakeup call. All those lives lost, families torn apart…they made us all take
notice of own lives and families and stop taking everything for granted. Every
day is precious, a treasure. No one is guaranteed tomorrow, so it is up to you
each and every day to make sure you are living your life without regrets."
The words rushed past his lips unchecked. He smiled hesitantly at Mac, who was
just as surprised at the idealism and fundamental belief in the goodness of men
that was evident in his words as he was.
Mac
closed the distance between them and he enfolded her into his arms.
"Didn't know you still had it in you, Harm."
He
placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and whispered, "I didn't
either."
0748
EST
JAG
HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
SEPTEMBER
9, 2002
Harm
walked into the bullpen with his cover in one hand and his briefcase in the
other. Before he could even make his way into his office, Tiner hurried over to
him.
"Sir,
the Admiral would like to see you." Harm nodded absently as he opened his
office door and set his briefcase and cover down. He glanced up at Tiner
standing in the doorway, who said as respectively as possible, "Now,
Sir."
"Yes,
Tiner." He glanced into Mac's office and wasn't surprised to find it
empty.
"They've
been waiting for you, Sir. You can go right in."
Harm
gave a perfunctory knock before pushing the door open and entering the
Admiral's office. He found the Admiral on the phone and Mac seated in front of
his desk.
"Yes,
Sir, he just walked in. Yes, Sir, I will be sure to emphasize the importance of
getting this incident resolved as quickly as possible." Harm shot a smile
at Mac. There was only one person the Admiral could be speaking with. Only the
SECNAV could cause him to say "Yes, Sir" through clenched teeth.
"Of course, you will be kept in the loop, Sir, but I really need to brief
them so they can get their investigation underway. Yes, Sir."
Gesturing
to the chair next to Mac, the Admiral began his brief. "That was the
SECNAV, as I am sure you guessed. He has asked that you and Mac be assigned to
investigate a car that was forced off the road. Mac was telling me about your
visit to the ER. It sounds like this is one and the same, so you two are
already a step ahead of the game. The press is having a field day with the idea
that someone affiliated with the Navy was involved, which is a problem for the
SECNAV. What looks bad for the Navy, looks bad for him."
"Because
of a Navy bumper sticker, Sir?"
"Yes,
Commander, because of a Navy bumper sticker. If this was a hate crime and
military personnel were involved…I don’t want to go there. Not with the
anniversary of 911 around the corner. The entire country is already walking on
eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Wondering if there is going to
be another attack. Wondering what the lasting message of 911 really is. Love
thy neighbor or hate thy neighbor." With a sigh, the Admiral issued their
orders, "Find out what you can and report back to me immediately.
Dismissed."
{Commercial
Break}
1033
EST
JAG
HEADQUARTERS
FALLS
CHURCH, VIRIGINIA
Mac
walked into Harm's office without knocking. They had been searching for a good
starting point and now they had it. "Harm, just heard from the Fairfax
County police. They found an abandoned truck in an alley that superficially
matches the APB put out by the Metro Police, right down to the paint scraps
matching the color of Haq's car. They are going to run some tests and check it
for prints, but we have a name. The truck is registered to a Daniel Sanders out
of Senate Heights."
"Mr.
Sanders, doesn't work the government, or more specifically, the Navy, does
he?"
"Not
as far as we can tell, but I have Harriet pulling together any information she
can on Sanders."
"Well,
while she is doing that, let's go pay Mr. Sanders a visit."
1124
EST
SENATE
HEIGHTS
SANDERS
RESIDENCE
Harm
rapped on the door and they waited for Daniel Sanders to answer. They had
called ahead to insure he was home before driving out, but he had not sounded
that enthusiastic when they requested some time. Finally, the door opened and a
slim blonde man of no more than twenty-two answered. He examined their
identification before allowing them entrance. Grudgingly, he led them into the
living room. The room was tidy and everything looked to have its place.
Pictures of him, another young man of similar build, but with dark hair, and a
pretty young woman were scattered throughout the room. Harm and Mac glanced
around the room quickly before sitting down on the couch.
“Thank
you for making time to see us. We’re here, because we have a few questions
about your truck. It was found in Fairfax County. Do you have any idea how it
could have ended up down there?” Harm asked.
“Like
I told the police, the truck was stolen when I was out Saturday night. I don’t
really see what else I can tell you.”
“Mr.
Sanders, I know you have already gone over this with the police, but we have
reason to believe that your vehicle may have been used in a hate crime. We
really would appreciate anything you could tell us.”
“Hate
crime?" Daniel Sanders scoffed. "Oh, you are talking about that guy
who was run off the road by the Pentagon?”
“We
are not at liberty to discuss that, but suffice it to say, any information you
have would help.” Harm watched the young man carefully, trying to decide if
there was anything more or if he was hiding anything.
“Excuse
me, but do you think I could use your facilities?” Mac asked demurely.
Sanders
looked like he wanted to deny the request, but knew that would only arouse
suspicion. “It is down the hall, first door on the right.”
“Thank
you.” Mac got up and walked down the hallway. On the way she passed a highboy
in the hall. Considering how tidy the house was, she was surprised to see a few
papers sticking haphazardly out of a drawer, as if they had been shoved in
quickly. Quietly, she pulled out the stack and realized they were flyers for
Homeland United. Not wanting to be missed, she tucked a flyer into her purse,
shoved the rest back into the drawer, and went into the bathroom. She waited a
moment before flushing the toilet and returning to the living room.
Harm
and Sanders were finishing up when she returned. “Thank you again for taking
the time to speak with us. If you think of anything else, here is my card. Please
feel free to give me a call.” They stood up and shook hands. “By the way, why
‘Go Navy’?”
It
took a moment for Sanders to figure out that Harm was referring to the sticker
on his truck. “Oh, the truck belonged to my brother before he sold it to me. He
played football at the Academy and is stationed aboard the USS Enterprise.”
1247
EST
JAG
HEADQUARTERS
FALLS
CHURCH, VIRIGINIA
Harm
and Mac were discussing Sanders when the elevator doors slid open. They walked
into the bullpen. LT Sims was at her desk working on her computer. When she saw
them come in, she immediately went over and briefed them on what she had
learned. “Daniel Sanders is a student at American. He works part time at a
bank. He has no record. It turns out that his brother, LT Gilbert Sanders,
played football for the Academy.”
“And
let me guess, Harriet. His brother is on the Enterprise?” Harm asked, knowing
full well that he was.
“Uh,
yes, Sir, he is. How did you know?”
“Don’t
be too impressed, Harriet. We got all that from interviewing Daniel Sanders.
Did you find out anything else?” Mac asked.
“It
seems the LT is on leave and arrived in country on the 8th.”
“Hmm,
I wonder why Sanders didn’t mention that.”
“His
story also checks out. The truck was reported stolen around 1800 on Saturday.
Apparently, he was having dinner and the truck was taken from parking garage
where the valets parked it. There were no witnesses and, unfortunately, it was
one of the few garages that doesn’t have video-recording equipment installed.
According to the Metro Police, there have been a rash of car thefts in that
area, particularly from parking garages. Despite assigning more patrol cars to
the area, they have not been able to figure out why. They suspect an inside
job, but have nothing solid at present. So far that is all I have been able to
pull together.”
“Thanks
for doing all that legwork, Harriet. We appreciate it.”
They
went into Mac’s office and closed the door. “So what do you think?” Harm asked
as he sat down.
Instead
of sitting down, Mac paced her office. “I don’t know. On the surface it doesn’t
look like he had anything to do with Haq’s accident, but then I found this. And
it certainly puts a different spin on the tidy little college kid image he was
putting on.” She handed the flyer for Homeland United to Harm. As he examined
it, she continued, “I found it when I went to use the ‘facilities’. It looked
like it had been hastily put away, so my guess is he didn’t want us seeing it.”
“Homeland
United, huh?” He read the flyer, which promised to deliver America back to its
rightful people. “It says they are holding a meeting tonight at 1800 out in
Highland Park. Guess I will need a raincheck for dinner. Looks like I have
other plans.” He gestured at the flyer in his hand.
“If
you’re going, I’m going. Who knows what kind of wackos you might run into?”
“Yeah,
that would go over big. You’d blend right in,” Harm countered facetiously.
Knowing
he was right, but not liking it, Mac agreed. “Fine. You go. Just be careful.
Harriet and I will do some research on Homeland United. It sounds like one of
those new nationalist groups we heard about on the news. If that is the case,
there might be more to Danny Sanders than he is letting on.”
1755
EST
801
HULL ROAD
HIGHLAND
PARK, VIRGINIA
The
renovated barn serving as the headquarters for Homeland United was not quite
what Harm expected. It was furnished inexpensively, but functionally. There were pamphlets and books scattered on
the end tables in the lobby leading into the meeting room. He glanced at some of the titles. America:
Home of the Brave, Not the Braves, New Nationalism, and Forget Turning the
Other Cheek were just a few of the titles that caught his eye. Shaking his
head, he walked into the meeting hall.
He
stood at the back of the room, not wanting to call too much attention to
himself. He glanced around the room to see if could spot Daniel Sanders. Harm
didn’t see him, but during his scan of the room, he noticed another man
standing unobtrusively against a side wall. He, too, looked like he was more an
observer than a participant. There was something familiar about him, but Harm
couldn’t place him. Shaking his head with frustration, he turned his attention
to the podium on the stage.
A
man in his mid-fifties was waiting for the room to come to order. He seemed
content to wait until they noticed him. Surprisingly, it didn’t take very long.
Matthew Harding looked more like a college professor than a leader of
dissidents, but looks can be deceiving. He spoke softly. He was obviously of
the school of thought that believes the lower you speak, the more captive your
audience.
“Thank
you all for coming tonight. Your presence here is an acknowledgement of the
problems our country is facing. We have been invaded by foreigners who are
taking our jobs, marrying our women, and, worse, attempting to brainwash our
children into believing that we are all equal.” He scanned the room before
continuing. “The events of September 11th weigh heavily on all of
us. It was a wakeup call for our great nation. Instead of attempting to fix the
woes of countries abroad, we need our government to close ranks and fix the
problems that stem from our open boarders and foreign policy. Had we not
attempted to police the world, we would not have buried those that died in the
World Trade Center or the Pentagon. There would have been no cause to attack
us, if we had not interfered in a dispute that has gone on for centuries longer
than our country has been in existence. It is up to us now to show our
government the error of its ways. We must be diligent and commit
whole-heartedly to righting the egregious crimes against the American people.
We must be brave like the young patriots that showed Kahil Haq he does not
belong here in our country. ”
Again,
Harm was surprised. This was not the type of rhetoric he had expected. Though
the message was no different from that exhorted by Hitler and Timothy McVeigh,
Matthew Harding had couched his message in logic. They were not the words of a
crazed zealot, but rather the words of an educated man who had given the matter
some thought. Harm again looked around the room and could see the acceptance on
the faces of the seventy or so men in the room. Though Harm felt Harding’s
reasoning was flawed, he could see how these men who were frustrated by their
circumstances could fall prey to his persuasive words. It was easier to place
the blame on others for the misfortunes that befell the United States and, in
turn, its citizens, than to take responsibility and work to make a positive
difference.
Concerned
about the potential power such a man might accumulate, Harm quietly slipped out
of the room. The only person who noticed his departure was the young man
standing against the wall.
SAME
TIME
TARA,
VIRGINIA
ROBERTS’
NEW HOUSE
Harriet
and Mac had decided to work at the house, since AJ’s sitter couldn’t stay late.
At the computer, Mac ran a search on Homeland United. She pulled up their main
page and was surprised at the number of branches that were listed for
additional information. While Harriet fed AJ, Mac read some of the propaganda
on the site. Then she did some research on Matthew Harding, the leader of the
organization that was based out of Highland Park. She couldn’t believe how well
organized Homeland United was.
While
AJ was busy watching Star Wars for the hundredth time, Mac and Harriet
discussed what she found.
“So
what did you find out, Mac?” Harriet asked as she picked up scattered toys
around the living room.
“Well,
Homeland United is exactly what it sounds like---a fundamentalist, nationalist
group that is working towards the ultimate goal of what basically amounts to
ridding America of all foreigners, who are at the root of all of America’s
problems.”
“And
how do they propose to do this?”
“By
any means necessary. There are a number of resources on the site that provide
information on how to ‘decontaminate a vehicle’ or ‘cleanse an environment’.
It's like a how to guide for dummies on how to commit crimes…all in the name of
a better America.” Just talking about it was making Mac slightly nauseous.
"One of the more disturbing things on the site is the membership profile.
The people who are buying into this are not uneducated people without other
alternatives to fight back. This guy, Harding, is creating a whole new kind of
bigot---one with resources and contacts."
"Why
would anyone believe this guy? History has shown what happens when people start
assigning values to a person's skin color or religion." Harriet just
couldn't understand how people could actually put any stock into Harding's
message, not when it was so firmly rooted in hatred.
"True,
but history has also shown what a charismatic leader can convince people of.
And Harding is just one of many. When I ran a search on nationalism, there were
hundreds of hits. Some of the sites where in the tradition of Neo-Nazis and the
Klan, just spewing profanity and hate. But there were a lot of other seemingly
innocuous sites like Homeland United that preached its message of hate, but
conveyed it in such a way that it almost sounds reasonable. What happened on
September 11th exposed a nerve and people like Harding are
exploiting those feelings of anger and hate that people still feel, even after
a year of healing."
Their
conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. They looked up in surprise
at how quickly the time had gone. Harriet answered the door and invited Harm to
join them in the living room.
"So
how was the meeting?" Mac asked.
"A
lot more organized than I expected, actually, but there was no sign of
Sanders."
"Well,
even though running Haq off the road seems like something that would be right
up their alley, unless we find something to connect them with the truck, I
guess we are going to have to start looking elsewhere."
They
all decided to call it a night. After kissing AJ goodnight, they said their
farewells to Harriet and went out to their cars. Harm walked Mac to her
corvette. Before he could say anything, Mac's cell phone rang. "Colonel
Mackenzie here." She listened intently for a few moments and then replied,
"Alright, thanks for the heads up." She turned to Harm and shook her
head in disbelief. "That was the forensics' team. They found a business
card for none other than Matthew Harding wedged beneath the floorboard of the
truck."
Harm
smiled and placed a swift peck on her lips upon hearing the new information.
"This time Mr. Sanders can come to us."
{Commercial
Break}
0932
EST
JAG
HEADQUARTERS
FALLS
CHURCH, VIRGINIA
In
the conference room, Harm and Mac were waiting for Daniel Sanders. In light of
the business card, flyer, and the nature of the crime, they had a few
unanswered questions to pose to the young college student. LT Singer escorted
Mr. Sanders into the conference room. Trailing the group was a young
dark-haired lieutenant.
As
Daniel Sanders entered the room, he gestured to the lieutenant. “This is my
brother, LT Gilbert Sanders. I’d appreciate it if he could sit in on this
interview.”
Harm
and Mac both stood to shake the young lieutenant’s hand. As he and Harm shook,
a jolt of recognition coursed through them. Harm spoke first, “You. You were at
the meeting last night. You’re his brother?”
Unsure
how to respond, the young lieutenant simply stood and nodded.
“Please
take a seat.” The brothers sat down and waited anxiously, unsure how the rest
of the interview was going to proceed. “The commander and I will be back in a
few minutes.” Mac rose from the table and quickly left the conference room.
Harm was on her heels.
Once
they were further down the hallway, they stopped to regroup. “When I saw him
last night, I couldn’t place him. We
must have seen a picture of him when we went to talk to Daniel yesterday.”
“That
makes sense, but what was he doing at the meeting?” Mac asked.
“I
don’t know, but I am going to find out. You see what you can get out of Daniel
and I will take the lieutenant.” Mac nodded her agreement. They returned to the
conference room.
“Given
the evidence that we have, we would like to speak to you individually. You and
the colonel will stay here. Lieutenant, let’s go to my office.” Harm’s tone
brooked no argument.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Take
a seat, Lieutenant.” Harm sat down
behind his desk and waited for the lieutenant to follow his order. He did. “So tell me what exactly an Annapolis grad
was doing at the Homeland United meeting last night?”
“Sir,
it’s not what you think. You’ve got to believe me.”
“I’m
listening.”
Fiddling
with his cover, the lieutenant attempted to explain. “I’m back here visiting my
brother. He’s the only family I have, Sir. While I was at the house, I came
across a flyer for the meeting and decided to check it out. It sounded like bad
news, but I didn’t want to jump the gun without knowing the facts. And now that
I know what they are all about…” the lieutenant trailed off.
“Yes,
Lieutenant?” Harm probed.
“Now,
I need to find out how Danny got mixed up in all of this. He's a smart kid.
This isn’t like him.”
“Lieutenant,
do you think your brother was involved in running that car off the road?”
“I
really don’t know, Sir. Before going to that meeting last night, I would have
said no way, but now…I don’t know.” Almost to himself, he said, “But it would fit. The timing is right.”
Harm
heard him anyway. “Why is the timing right? Because of September 11th?”
“Kind
of, Sir.” Harm could see the lieutenant debating how much to say. Harm waited,
he had a feeling LT Sanders would make the right decision. After a moment, the
young lieutenant continued. “It’s not so much that it’s the anniversary of 911.
It’s, well…” he struggled to find the words.
Sensing
how difficult this was, Harm said a few encouraging words, “It’s alright,
Lieutenant. Take your time.”
“The
thing is, Sir…Well, did you lose anyone in the attack, Sir? And I don't mean a
colleague. I mean someone you loved. ”
Surprised
by the question, but knowing it was not a frivolous question, Harm answered him
honestly. “No, but my father was MIA. I only found out what happened to him a
few years ago. But I have lost people I care about. What's on your mind,
LT?"
“Then
you kind of know how it feels, Sir.” LT Sanders stared down at the cover in his
hands. “This coming weekend was supposed to be my first wedding anniversary.”
Harm could hear the pain in the young man’s voice. “Nicole, my fiancée and
Marine lieutenant, was killed in the attack on the Pentagon just before our
wedding. So, yes, in a way all this might be related to 911, but I think it has
more to do with the fact that Nicole is dead.” Even though a year had passed,
the wound was still raw and bleeding.
“I’m
sorry for your loss, LT.” Harm gave him some time to compose himself.
“The
thing is, Danny, Nicole, and I grew up together. So even though it was my
fiancée that died, he’s just as angry as I am. I think, in some ways, Danny was
a little bit in love with her, too. So the both of us have just been kind of
going through the motions this year. I volunteered for the first cruise that
would get me as far away from here as possible, and if it meant getting the
opportunity to strike back at the people who did this, so much the better. But
Danny was left here. I think this Homeland United is his way of getting back at
the people who did this to Nicole.”
“LT,
I can’t imagine what this past year has been like for you, but if your brother
is mixed up with Homeland United, he is doing a disservice to Nicole’s memory.
She was a Marine. There is no way she would have tolerated running an innocent
man off the road in her name.”
"I
know you're right, Sir. When I tried to talk to Danny last night after the
meeting, he stonewalled me about everything connected to Homeland United. Maybe
with you and the Colonel present, I can finally find out the truth."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"So
Mr. Sanders, what can you tell me about Homeland United?"
"I'm
not saying a word until Gil comes back in." The stubborn set of his jaw
exemplified his resolve.
They
both sat in silence for a while. Finally, Mac decided to try another tactic.
"Fine,
you listen, I'll talk. Last night they found Matthew Harding's business card in
your stolen truck. Now, the strange thing is, the truck was completely clean
other than that and I mean spotless. No prints, no nothing. Well, nothing
except that card. Add that to the fact that Commander Rabb saw your brother at
the Homeland United meeting, and things are not looking too good."
"Are
you trying to say Gil was involved in this?" Danny asked incredulously.
"I
am just telling you the facts as we know them, Mr. Sanders," Mac responded
casually.
"Enough
already with the Mr. Sanders. My name's Danny."
"Alright,
Danny, if that is not what happened, why don't you fill me in?"
At
that moment, the door to the conference room opened and Harm and LT Sanders
entered. They sat down at the
conference table with Danny and Mac.
“You
both are just in time. Danny is about to tell me a story.”
Danny
glared at her and stayed silent. LT Sanders jumped in. “Danny, if you know
anything that could help them solve this case, you have to tell them---even if
you're involved.” They waited to see if Danny would speak. He still remained
silent. Finally, Gil added, “If you did this for Nicole, then you really didn’t
know her at all.”
“How
can you say that, Gil? You know that’s not true. She was my best friend.”
“Then
tell these people what you know. That is what she would have wanted.”
Hearing
the truth in his brother’s words, Danny began to speak. “A couple of months
ago, I was at this bar and this guy started talking to me about Homeland
United. I was kind of drunk, but he was making a lot of sense. He invited me to
go to a meeting out in Highland Park. I figured what the hell and went. And
ever since, I've been going. The stuff they say about us isn’t true. We are not
homegrown terrorists. We just want to make sure our own are protected.”
Gil
Sanders looked at him, unable to comprehend that his brother was regurgitating
Harding’s rhetoric. “Do you even hear yourself? ‘Make sure our own are
protected?’ What is that supposed to mean? That’s what the military is for. You
can’t go taking matters into your own hands. When people do that, innocent
people get hurt, Danny, like Kahil Haq.”
“He’s
not innocent. He’s one of them, Gil. Because of him, Nicole is dead.” But the
conviction was missing from his voice.
“No,”
LT Sander shook his head emphatically. “Nicole is dead because a terrorist
rammed a plane into the Pentagon. And she’s gone. Nothing is going to bring her
back. Nothing."
“But
if I do nothing, then it’s like I’m forgetting all about her. Like it’s alright
that she is gone. And, dammit, Gil, it’s not alright.”
“So
trying to kill someone else is going to do what? Bring her back? What do you
think you’re accomplishing?”
“Matt
says we’re working to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Harm
and Mac had sat quietly thought the painful confrontation between the Sanders,
but now that the worst looked to be over, Mac ventured a question. “Matt as in
Matthew Harding?”
Danny
glanced at his brother, who nodded at him to answer. “Yes.”
“Was
he involved in any way with what happened to Kahil Haq?”
“Well,
he didn’t tell us who to get, but he did challenge us to do it...and he told us
how to do it without getting caught. He set everything up.” They waited
expectantly for him to continue. “First, we picked a target at random and
familiarized ourselves with his activities. Then once we had a target, we went
to eat dinner at restaurant in the Alexandria. The valets are part of Homeland,
so they would arrange for our car to be taken during dinner, so that we could
report it stolen. Then after the report was filed, we would meet up, get the
car back, and go take care of the victim, in this case Haq. After we did what
we had planned, we would sweep the car and dump it. Then when the police found
it, we wouldn’t be connected with it, so we would get the car back and the
insurance companies would cover any damage.”
“The
perfect crime, or it would have been, if you hadn’t left the business card in
the truck.” Harm and Mac were both impressed and disgusted at the thought that
had gone into the attack on Kahil Haq.
“I
can’t believe you agreed to this, Danny. You don’t really buy all that stuff
that Harding was spouting at that meeting, do you?”
“Well,
no, not really. But I just felt so powerless. Nicole is dead and you are out
there fighting the good fight. Where does that leave me? I had to do something
and Harding offered me a way to fight back." Danny made eye contact with
Mac. "What's going to happen to me now?”
“It
depends. Based on what we have, you are looking at some pretty serious jail
time. Following 911, Congress passed some pretty strict laws concerning hate
crimes to stop people from taking justice into their own hands.” Mac could see
the fear in both the brothers’ eyes. “However, maybe there is something you can
do that would help your case.”
“What?”
“Does
Harding trust you?” Harm asked. He knew exactly where Mac was heading.
“I
don’t think that guy trusts anyone. But since I took out Haq, he probably
doesn’t distrust me as much as he does everyone else. I guess I would say he
respects me more than anything for taking action.” Danny hung his head; he
understood now that the action he had taken was wrong no matter the reason
behind it.
“Well,
if he is the one responsible for planning all of these attacks, he is the one
we want.”
“What
do you need us to do?” asked LT Sanders, who was not going to let his brother
go in alone. Plus he felt a little guilty for leaving his brother to his own
devices. If he had stuck around, maybe Danny wouldn’t have gotten himself into
this mess.
{Commercial
Break}
1321
EST
801
HULL ROAD-PICNIC AREA
HIGHLAND
PARK, VIRGINIA
SEPTEMBER
11, 2002
The
scene resembled a company picnic. The day had been declared a National Day of
Remembrance and many employers had given their people the day off to spend with
their families. Banners touting the “1st
Annual Homeland United Patriot’s Picnic” were hung around the picnic area.
Families were scattered on blankets around the mock stage constructed in the
middle of the grassy field. Under a canopy was a wide selection of food and
beverages. Matthew Harding was making his way around the picnic area greeting
people.
Harm,
Gil, and Danny Sanders were on the fringe of the group tossing a football
around. After thirty minutes or so, Harding made his way over to them. “Well,
if it isn’t our very own patriot. I’m glad you could make it.” Harding shook
hands with Danny like a practiced politician. He studied Harm and Gil. “And you
two were at the meeting on Monday. I’m glad you took my message to heart and
decided to return. We can always use a few more good men.”
In
the surveillance van in the parking lot where they were listening in, Mac
cringed at the Marine motto being uttered by such a man.
Danny
introduced the two men to Harding. “Matt, this is my brother, Gil, that I've
been telling you about and this Harm Rabb, a friend of his.”
Harding
shook hands with both of them. To Gil he said, “I am very sorry for your loss.
It is a tragedy that I hope will never again befall this great nation. I’m glad
you’ve decided to help us make a difference.”
“Thank
you. My brother has been telling me how instrumental you've been in helping him
find an outlet for his anger. I appreciate it. I don’t know what kind of
trouble he would have gotten himself into, if it hadn’t been for you.”
“Your
brother did all the hard work. I simply pointed him the right direction.”
“Well,
it takes a smart man to arrange everything the way you did.” Gil leaned in
conspiratorially to Harding. “That's actually why we're here.”
“You
have something in mind?” Harding eyed them all suspiciously.
“Look,
I don’t know exactly what Danny has told you, Mr. Harding, but my fiancée was
killed a year ago today. And before my buddies and I drink ourselves under the
table, I would like to give those towel-headed bastards something to remember
me by and Danny told me you were the man to see. If you’re not, I’m sure we can
come up with something on our own.” Gil’s voice was dripping with pent up anger
and frustration at Nicole’s senseless death. The hatred in his voice seemed to
convince Harding that he was not being set up.
“Why
don’t you all accompany me to my office?” Harding proceeded to lead the way.
Once inside he gestured for them to be seated. "I do happen to have some
information that may be of assistance to you gentlemen."
In
the van, Mac rolled her eyes heavenward. Harding didn't sound like an extremist
poised to lecture an impromptu how-to-class on revenge, but that is exactly
what he was doing. He just had a better vocabulary than most of the fanatics
she had come across.
"At
Muhammads Mosque, there is going to be a sunset service to honor those who were
lost in the attacks." Harding shook his head with disgust as he continued,
"As if they could understand the anguish of the American people or your
own personnel suffering, Gil. They are making a mockery of this sacred
day."
Playing
along, Harm asked, "Do you have any ideas about how we could make them
reevaluate their plans?"
"If
I'm not mistaken, the mosque is situated on an intersection that runs right
over a gas main. By contacting a member of Homeland, you could gain access to
the main and plant a remote incendiary device. And then it would simply be a
waiting game. When you felt the time was right to remind them whose country
this is, all it would take is the flick of switch."
Gil
seemed to consider Harding's words. "That sounds easier said than done,
especially that part about a remote incendiary device."
"I
suppose young Daniel has not had time to fill you in on all of the resources
our organization has at its fingertips. We, like many of our brethren, supply
starter kits and instructions for those members who have not yet familiarized
themselves with some of the necessary tools of our crusade." Harding's
eyes gleamed as he described the power of Homeland United. "Actually, one
of instructional classes just finished assembling some of our starter kits. I
don't foresee the device being an issue. We take care of our own."
"I
think that wraps up all the details, don't you?" Harm looked at the
Sanders and then back to Harding. "I have to say, in a perverse way, I am
very impressed with your operation."
"What's
perverse about it? This is a new war we're fighting. If we're not organized, we
have absolutely no hope of succeeding."
"Actually,
organized or not, you have no hope of succeeding, unless of course you think
you can keep all this together from your jail cell." Harm waited for his
words to sink in.
Harding
immediately went on the defensive. "I don't know what you're talking
about, but I think you gentlemen need to remove yourself from the
premises."
Gil
Sanders spoke up, "Oh, we'll leave alright, but only after the cops take
you away in handcuffs."
"You
obviously don't know your law. This is entrapment. There is no way this is
going to hold up in court." Despite their threats, Harding still looked
smug.
"Actually,
all we did was ask you a question. Nothing illegal about that. And your
response should provide, in addition to the case that is already being built
against you, civil disorder charges, conspiracy charges, and, if the prosecutor
gets really creative, possible incitement of genocide charges." Harding’s
eyes darted around the room for a possible escape, as he realized the truth of
Harm’s words. “I wouldn’t try anything, Mr. Harding. The cops will be here
momentarily.”
As
if on cue, a forceful knocking was heard on Harding's office door. "Open
the door. We have a warrant for your arrest."
1800
EST
CHAPEL
GEORGETOWN,
VIRGINIA
Seated
at the service in honor of those lost were the Admiral, Harm, Mac, Singer,
Sturgis, Tiner, Harriet, and the Sanders. At the pulpit was Chaplin Turner.
“Today
we remember those that were lost at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.
All of us have been touched by this tragic event. Some of us have made our
peace with it and taken from it the knowledge that every day is a gift not to
be abused. Some of us are still struggling to find a meaning in all that has
happened. And when that answer eludes us, we must guard against the natural
inclination to hate that which we do not understand. For it is that same hatred
that brings us here today as we remember the victims of September 11th.”
Chaplin
Turner scanned the pews and met the eyes of Danny Sanders, before continuing.
“The task before us today is to do as Peter tells us. We are to live in harmony
with one another, to be sympathetic, to love as brothers, to be compassionate
and humble. He tells us not to repay evil with evil, but in these times of
uncertainty when the world is on the brink of self-destructing, striking back
at our enemies seems like the easiest course of action. But we must find strength
in our families, our friends, and our faith. In doing so we find the truth
which we have sought: not all men have the reserves to draw upon that are at
your disposal, so nurture your families, your friends, and your faith. May God
bless you all.”
Harm
thought back the Homeland United meeting that he attended just two days ago.
The messages could not have been more different. He could only hope Danny
Sanders was listening.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Standing
on the steps outside the chapel, Mac waited for Harm to bring his car around. A
light drizzle was falling. The Admiral finished talking with Chaplin Turner and
joined her. "Nice work, Mac. Not only did you clear the Navy in this mess,
you actually got a us a gold star from the SECNAV."
"Thank
you, Sir, but I can't take all the credit."
Harm
walked up beside her and added, "That's right…most of it goes to me."
He dodged Mac's playful swat. The Admiral just ignored Harm's comment and said,
"I'll see you two at the restaurant." When he left, the Sanders
brothers joined them.
"Sir.
Ma'am. I just wanted to thank you for everything. I don't know what would have
happened to Danny, if you hadn't come up with that plan to get Harding."
Harm
nodded and caught Danny's eye. "Just make sure it wasn't for
nothing."
"I
will." The look of determination in Daniel Sanders' eyes confirmed his
words. "Because I agreed to
testify against Harding, the DA is reducing the charges against me. It looks
like I'm going to be on probation for three years and have to do 250 hours of
community service. I'll be lecturing at area schools about hate crimes and how
easy it is to get sucked in. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep a few kids from
making the same mistakes I did. Thanks for the chance."
"Well,
we'll let you go now, Sir. Ma'am. Goodnight." The brothers turned and
walked down the steps leaving Harm and Mac alone.
Harm
placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her to his car where he
opened her door and seated her before going around to his side and climbing in.
As they buckled their seatbelts, Harm spoke. "See 911 was a wakeup call.
It just took some longer than others to answer."
"There's
that idealism again, Harm." Mac smiled at him as she spoke.
"Well,
in times like these, idealism separates the men from the boys." He flashed
her his patented grin
Mac
expression turned serious. "Not all men, Harm. Some men use it as
justification to do what they want in the name of their cause. Others use it as
an excuse to do nothing, since ideals are, by definition, unattainable. But you,"
she met his eyes as continued, "you use it as a measuring stick for how
far we've come and where we can go." She leaned over and placed a gentle
kiss on his lips. They savored the moment and then he put the car in gear and
sped off---they couldn't keep the Admiral waiting.
{Commercial
Break}
{Preview:
Don't miss the exciting conclusion to the Virtual Season airing on September 10th.}
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's
Notes: If the idea of an organization
like Homeland United scares you (and it should), please be aware that it is not
a figment of my imagination. Groups like it have sprung up in the wake of
September 11th and those that existed before have gained momentum as
people look for ways to deal with their anger and frustration. The
stereotypical image of an uneducated, Copenhagen chewing, militiaman is no
longer accurate. Extremists now come in all shapes, colors, and sizes.
This
story is my little attempt to shed some light on the issue. It doesn't do it
justice, but if it made you stop and think about it, it did its job.
For
additional information: www.civilrights.org