Little Red Riding Hood - part 4

Safely back at home now, Red was having trouble coping with the horror of the entire experience.

"How could the police hurt us worse than the rapist?!" she asked angrily of Mr Wheelhouse, the family attorney. "How could the POLICE actually be WORSE than the criminals?!"

"This happens all the time, Red." Mr Wheelhouse replied calmly. "We're going to demand answers, but don't be surprised if they refuse to give any. In these increasingly hostile and litigious times it isn't at all uncommon for government agencies and law enforcement to simply refuse to acknowledge any and all wrongdoing on their part and force you to prove they've made even the tiniest little error."

"Well we can sure prove it easily enough," Red said bitterly, as she placed one hand on the place where the Taser had penetrated her groin and left a permanent scar. "Daddy was just standing there, unarmed, when they attacked him like a pack of rabid dogs. And I had surrendered. I did everything they asked."

"We can prove a lot," Mr Wheelhouse continued, "but unfortunately the courts are in bed with the police and almost always take their side. The court will likely dismiss as much of our evidence as they can and simply ignore the rest. It is possible, but rare, for a private citizen to obtain justice from the police. In recent years, unfortunately, the Supreme Court has granted law enforcement nearly unlimited power and almost total immunity."

Meanwhile ...

Meanwhile, on Shady Grove Rd, near the spot where Red was attacked by Wolf, a crowd of black protesters were gathering, led by none other than Mr Al Sharpton himself. They held professionally manufactured signs with slogans carefully crafted and printed by a Marxist pro-black liberation marketing firm in Chicago, Illinois. Many of the agitators holding the signs didn't even bother to read them. In fact, some of them couldn't have read the signs if they tried. All of the agitators were being paid for the time they were about to spend shouting slogans, which had been taught to them by Al Sharpton himself and rehearsed earlier that same morning. For some of them, having recently been released from Shelby County Correctional Facility, this was the only job they had held in many years and the first truly legal job they had ever held in their entire lives.

Naturally the black liberation agitators weren't intending to protest merely for the fun of it. Mr Sharpton's corporate-funded political machine had contacted all the local news stations and the major networks before he even boarded the plane to Memphis to make sure news reporters and cameras were ready and waiting for this event. It was going to be their top story for the next several months, if they could manage it, and Mr Sharpton and his team intended to make the most of the opportunity to shout on national TV about their endless grievances against white capitalist cruelty and endless perceived slights of racism.

As the cameras rolled, Al Sharpton stepped up on a hastily constructed stage and began to speak.

"He was killed because he was black!"

"We are here ... because of a hate crime." He sing-songed loudly into the microphone. 

"Amen! Amen!" the mob of 13 black protesters shouted in unison, along with 4 white liberals who happened to be wandering by, but joined in out of guilt and fear of being called 'racists.'

"We are here ... because one of our brothers in slay-vuh-ray ... the slay-vuh-ray of captuhlist white oh-press-son ... has been moidored." He paused for effect. "We are here ... because whenevah ... one black man ANYWHERE suffers injusist" he paused again, waving his finger in the air for effect "all black men everywheya .... suffers injusist!"

"AMEN! AMEN!" the agitators shouted once again.

"This black may-un, this fine young may-un, this Wolf was his names ..." he paused again "cannot even step foots in the neighborhood of these rich white folks" he said, pointing at the 4 white people who had joined his mob and now looked at each other in embarrassment, "without being shot dead in cold bloodishment ..."

"That's right!" one of the protesters shouted.

"and for WHAT?!" Mr Sharpton shouted. "I axed you, for WHAT did he die?!"

"For being black!" several agitators shouted.

"That's right!" more agitators shouted in response. "For being black!"

"For being black," Mr Sharpton agreed, smiling with satisfaction that they had reached the right conclusion.

It was also the exact same conclusion he had instructed them to reach earlier that morning while they were rehearsing for the Press.

"This is the golden goose, Barry"

At the same time, in Washington, DC, Eric Holder sat cross-legged in an eighteenth-century chair in the oval office. Across from him sat his boss, US President Barack Obama.

"This is a golden goose, Barry." Eric said with his trademark quiet, rather high, soft voice. "A golden goose that could save both of our asses if we play it right."

President Obama sat with his elbows on the desk, chin resting on the backs of his hands, fingers intertwined. He was facing straight ahead, but his eyes were turned to Eric. He nodded in agreement. "Oh believe me, I know it. When I heard the news I jumped up and punched the portrait of Thomas Jefferson right in the face and shouted "hell yeah, motherfucker, four more years are in the bag!"

Eric smiled a Mona Lisa smile, as he always did and said, "with this case we can put the white man back on his heels, back on the defensive, where he belongs. We can hit him with the race card so hard it'll land him flat on his tight ass with rich, white, liberal guilt."

"And there's not a damn thing Mitt Romney can do about it, either." Obama added, sitting up straighter now and smiling a broad grin, now looking quite like the Joker in a Batman comic. "We're gonna fuck his entire campaign and then, after its all over and I've won, I'm gonna go to his house and fuck his crippled white wife right up the ass."

"Yep," Eric laughed. "And then we're gonna fuck HIM right up his rich, white ass."

Obama's smile faltered a bit and he sat looking at Eric in a momentarily awkward silence. "Uh, yeah."

... To be continued ...

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