Second Term - A Novel of America in the Last Days (The End of America Series Book 1) (16 page)

THIRTY
SIX

John
Madison Website Blog

While we were at
worship services this morning I had three somewhat frantic voicemails at home.
The first message, which must have been recorded as we were pulling out of the
drive, merely asked if I was or would be in soon. There was some sort of
muffled sound, like the caller covering the phone while speaking to someone
else, then a quick dial tone. Strange.

The second call,
about an hour later (that must have been about when my wife was elbowing me to
stop nodding off during the Pastor’s sermon), was equally unusual. The unidentified
caller asked when I would return home and said, “This is important. We need to
speak with Mr. Madison. Now. We’ll call back.” Again, no identification by the
caller, but it was obvious to me that neither was a sales call. I was sure
right about that.

The third call, which
came in as we were at lunch after church at the Black Eyed Pea, was not a call
you would ever want to receive. I wrote it down exactly as it was recorded:

Mr.….John Madison.…this
is Special Agent Charles     Bock.…of the FBI in the Dallas regional office. I
need         to speak with you, sir, as soon as you can return this   call….It’s
an urgent matter, I’m informed by our offices   in DC. Please return this call….promptly.
(He left his           number, twice).

It didn’t take a
genius to figure out why the FBI wanted to talk to me on an urgent matter. It
undoubtedly had something to do with my speech in Austin or maybe with my
testimony from last month, or it could be…ooops. I’m writing this in my den.
I’m typing fast. I’m looking at two black Suburbans, government vehicles of
choice, which have just pulled up to our curb. My Sunday afternoon surprise?
How many suits did they send? Four? No, my goodness…three in each vehicle. Two
talking into their sleeves. Not a good sign. Another checking, no, he’s reaching
in and unsnapping, his shoulder holster. A worse sign. I do wish, though, that
they would have just waited until I called back, and not sent their squadron of
agents to my house to arrest me, in front of my family, on a Sunday afternoon.
I’ll get one call to my lawyer -- I hope Chuck’s at home -- more later,
assuming there is a later.

THIRTY
SEVEN

John
Madison - Journal Entry

While I’ve been here
in jail, I’ve been thinking a lot about MLK. Martin Luther King, Jr. used his
time while in jail in 1963 in the midst of the civil rights struggle, to write
what became known as the
Letter from Birmingham City Jail.
He wrote that
“one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws”. I certainly agree with
Rev. King. As a created human being I have the moral right to defend myself,
and my family members, from another human being who may want to harm us or take
our lives. It’s immoral to prevent me from defending myself and my family. I
have the God-given right to speak my mind on who should be the leaders of my
nation’s government.

I’m writing this as a
journal entry, instead of a campaign website blog, since I don’t have access to
a computer. I recognize, though, that these words may never be read. Security
in this Houston, Texas Federal Detention Center is quite tight. King faced a
similar problem, of course. He smuggled his letter out of the Alabama jail in a
toothpaste tube. I’ll get this out somehow. Probably.

The news they allow
us to see here indicates that the House will vote on the McAlister Bill soon.
I’m only allowed one call a day, which I normally use to talk to my beloved
Debbie. So, I’ve not been in a position since I got here to be involved in any
way in either the debate on the gun bill, or working with my buddies to try and
influence Members of Congress to oppose the McAlister Bill. Not that they
missed me all that much. I’m the one that Senator Blevins tricked into saying
that the Second Amendment was vague. Genius, right?

Most of my hours since
I’ve been here have been spent working with Chuck, my erstwhile legal beagle.
My arrest made some splash in the local media in Texas, though the President’s
pals in the national media squelched any national coverage. I’ll have to say
that was a shock, after the coverage given to my testimony before the Senate
Judiciary Committee, but I understand how things work in the liberal mainstream
media. An occasional news magazine or newspaper article, though, quotes me, I’m
told, which must irritate the White House. One article accurately reported that
my dad named me John in honor of John Adams, one of his heroes. He thought that
Adams and James Madison were key to the formation of the nation that we became,
so he wanted me to have both names. The media can get it right, sometimes.

My first question to
Chuck was how quick he could get me out on bail. How hard could that be? Well,
as it turned out, it was very hard. In fact, impossible. Normally a lawyer can
file a writ of habeas corpus and spring his client from the slammer, or at
least force the authorities to file charges. By the time any one reads this, it
should become known that Chuck’s writ of habeas corpus was denied. Habeas
corpus essentially means ‘bring forth the body’ or ‘you may have the body’. The
purpose is to make the authorities bring forth a prisoner to the court and
justify the prisoner’s detention.

The Administration,
though, had its Department of Justice file a pleading opposing our writ of
habeas corpus. On what basis? Article I, Section 9 of the U.S. Constitution
allows the government to suspend the right to a writ of habeas corpus “in cases
of rebellion…when the public safety may require it.” The Administration warned
the Court that national security issues were involved, and notified the Court
that my right to a writ of habeas corpus was suspended, because I was part of a
“rebellion”. They said the “public safety” required that I lose my right to
file a writ. They also argued that under the newly passed National Defense
Authorization Act, section 1021, I could be held, as an American citizen, for
an indeterminate period of time.

We’re told that the
only person more shocked than Chuck and I was the federal district court judge,
who told one of Chuck’s lawyer friends that he had never seen anything like it.
He had his staff research whether it had happened before. They learned that it
hadn’t happened since Abraham Lincoln suspended the right to habeas corpus
writs for Confederate soldiers. No question that the South in the 1860’s
rebelled, but our efforts to use the Constitution to change how things work in
DC could hardly be called a rebellion.

Great. Now I’m in
“rebellion” against the United States. Give me a break. Chuck says that the
conservative commentators and bloggers are calling me a “political prisoner”. I
can’t read the blogs, incidentally, because we don’t have access to the
internet in the slammer, which I can understand. The guys in here, with all
their free time, would figure out how to hack every bank or government office
in the country.

“Political prisoner”?
That has an ominous ring to it. I guess that’s what I am. I haven’t done
anything to break any laws, at least any that I know of. I know, I know, I hear
it all the time from almost every inmate in here that he’s an innocent man.
But, I think I really am innocent. They won’t tell us what laws I am accused of
breaking, and since my habeas corpus petition rights have been suspended, Chuck
says they can just keep holding me here on unspecified charges. Section 1021. We
both think that will eventually change and they’ll file charges, but they’re
holding up, we believe, until after the McAlister Bill passes, or gets
defeated, as the case may be. They don’t want to stir things up any more than
necessary, until the vote is taken. Likewise, I didn’t want to go completely
ballistic public-comment wise, as much as I can from the slammer, until after
the vote on the Bill. That would be a complication that the opponents of the
bill don’t need, to be saddled with official charges of “rebellion”, or
whatever they decide on, filed against one of the leaders against the Bill.

Bottom line, right
now it looks like I’m not getting out of federal prison until I’m eventually tried
by a jury of my peers, hopefully, and found innocent. When will that be?
Unknown, according to Chuck. Obviously, they need to keep me bottled up here
until the Congress votes the McAlister Bill up or down. If it passes, I’ll be
tried and the Department of Justice will throw the veritable kitchen sink at
me. If the Bill fails, it could be a long time before my case comes to a public
trial, for obvious reasons. They wouldn’t want to try a leader of a cause that
had just won, if the Bill is defeated. Chuck says that a defeat of the McAlister
Bill would make it harder to get a jury to convict me. I like the sound of
that.

My primary heart ache
in jail has not been myself (I knew what I was getting into, sort of), but
instead, my ongoing disagreements with our son, John Madison II, a/k/a Jack.
Jack, our oldest child, is married and has fathered our two grandchildren. He
is the pastor of a fast growing church in the Dallas area, and is starting a
new television ministry. Jack is a great kid (though at his age now the word
kid might not apply). We have a good relationship, and have had since he was
birthed, but that doesn’t mean he agrees with his dad on what I have been doing
for the last few years. His view is that as Christians we are to ‘render unto
Caesar’. I agree with that, but only as I think Jesus used it, in regard to
paying taxes.

My opposition to the
President in the recent Presidential campaign, which admittedly was fairly high
profile, led to several somewhat intense arguments with Jack. He just feels
that we should live under whatever government we get, and not ever oppose
Caesar. In one of our debates, I reminded him of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the
German theologian who was executed for his involvement in an attempt to
assassinate Hitler. He admitted that Bonhoeffer was a good example of a
principled Christian who acted out of a desire to save the lives of Jews who
were being slaughtered in concentration camps, but he argued I was no
Bonhoeffer. OK, agreed, but I am worried about how this Administration is
treating Israel, pushing it to give up its land. If we curse Israel, we will be
cursed, I argued to Jack, citing one of the verses I’ve actually memorized.
Genesis 12:3, I reminded my son, promises blessings to those who bless Israel
and curses to those who curse Israel. He said America would never abandon
Israel, but I replied that may not be the case under this Administration. But,
simply stated, Jack’s not in very much agreement with me on very much that I’ve
been doing.

Debbie and I love
Jack, and his terrific wife, Allison, who doesn’t say much on the subject, but who
seems to agree with her husband. We pray that they will eventually understand
why his dad took on the President. In the meantime, we’ll just agree to
disagree, and try to do it agreeably, as they say. But, it still hurts every
time Jack asks me if I really know what I’m doing. Our other child, Katie, is
working overseas and not too much affected by her dad’s problems. We only
briefly discuss the issue in our weekly calls. But, she says she prays a lot
for us, which is good to hear.

Well, that’s enough
candid blathering for now. Sorry I ran on, but what else are you going to do
with your time in the joint?

THIRTY
EIGHT

Dallas,
Texas

Pastor Jack Madison
was having a good day. He’d met with his men’s discipleship group for breakfast
at La Donni’s, his favorite morning restaurant, he’d finished his sermon notes
for Sunday and had just started reading a contract from a local television
station to carry his church’s services on air. Then his day changed, abruptly. His
long-time assistant had just buzzed him to tell him that there were two
unsmiling, dark-suited federal agents in her office demanding that they see
him. The agents had arrived at his church, without an appointment. Great, he
thought, I’ m not dressed in business attire today, just jeans and a polo
shirt, since it’s Friday. How was he going to be perceived by his unannounced
visitors? He was taller than his dad, due to his mom being nearly as tall as
her husband. He had a full head of dark hair and his wife, Allison, regularly
told him she thought he was quite handsome. But, his looks he quickly concluded,
would have nothing to do with why he was being visited by federal agents. He
had a distinctly bad feeling about what was about to occur.

After perfunctorily
apologizing for coming to his church office without an appointment, the older
of the two agents said, before even taking a seat, “Pastor Madison, we’re here
to advise you, as a representative of the family, that the government plans to
indict your father for several federal crimes, not the least of which is
expected to be a charge of conspiracy to overthrow the government”.

Jack was not pleased
at having federal agents descend on his office, unannounced, nor with their
attitude and general demeanor. His earlier thoughts were confirmed, as he
sensed that this meeting would not yield positive results. Thus it was that
Jack flippantly responded, “Well, any candidate who runs for office is trying
to overthrow the government”.

“
Really
,
Pastor Madison?” It was obvious to Jack that they were definitely not amused.
“Your father wasn’t a candidate for office. If he had been a candidate, maybe
some of his incendiary words, though not his seditious plans, might have been
protected speech. No, Pastor Madison, your father is expected to be charged
with these several federal crimes because
he went over the line
. He
clearly violated the federal hate crimes law. He’ll be charged with even more
serious crimes than hate crimes. He’s an
enemy of the state
.”

Jack was raised to be
polite, but he was at the outside limit of his ability to restrain himself. He
wanted to reach across the desk and smack these guys silly, but he knew that
striking a federal agent would earn him an adjoining cell next to his dad.
Instead, all he could think to say was, “May I ask why you are here? And why
are you telling me these things? I’m not my dad’s lawyer. Call Chuck Webster in
Tyler. I don’t control what my dad says or does. Talk to him.”

“Pastor Madison, you
make a valid point, you are not legally representing your father. But, as his
son, you have contact and you communicate with your father, as we, of course,
know from monitoring all of your father’s communications with anyone outside
the federal facility.”

“Don’t you see any
Constitutional issues involved here? You read everything he writes? Everything,
even to my mom?”

“Of course, Pastor.
Your father is expected to be charged soon as an enemy of the state. Under the
Patriot Act we can do what we need to do to protect America.”

“Look guys. I’m a
busy pastor of a fair-sized church. You’ve got lots of federal criminals out
there to catch, I’m sure, so can we either wind this up, or can we get to the
point?”

“No reason to be
testy, Pastor Madison. The
point
that you want us to get to is simply
this. Three things. Number one. Encourage your father to back off his trouble
making. We know what he’s doing, or trying to do. Knock it off.

“Number two. Advise
John Madison to stop writing letters and articles that are being used to stir
up the gunners across the country. Stop writing.

“And number three.
Suggest to him that if he ever wants to live someplace but a prison cell, he
should consider a plea bargain once he’s charged. Agree with the Department of
Justice that he’s violated the law, take his lumps, and maybe, with some good
behavior, someday he’ll get to spend some time, on the outside, with your children,
Josh, Sarah and Thomas, that is while they’re still children.”

The agent’s last
comment, specifically naming Jack’s three minor children, obviously to scare
and intimidate him, was too much for Jack. “We’re
done
, gentlemen. You
found your own way in, you can find your own way out.”

The agents were
trained to carefully watch and evaluate the reaction of interviewees whom they
wanted to intimidate. After they were abruptly evicted from the Pastor’s
office, they both agreed that it had been a fruitful visit. They both agreed as
they drove away from the church that Pastor John “Jack” Madison had been somewhat
intimidated. He would talk to his father and convey everything he had heard.
However, the older agent, upon reflection, said, “I agree that he was
intimidated, he’ll pass it all on to his dad. But…. I saw in his eyes something
that concerned me. He’s no wimp, no roll over. The powers that be had better
never push this young man
too
far
….or….they may wish they
hadn’t
.”