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ОглавлениеChapter 3
A Truly Lasting Memorial
Thursday, February 14–MD minus 25 days
Oblivious to what was going on beneath the surface, Dr. Janice Girds continued with final preparations for a special posthumous presentation. They were to honor Abdul Farsi as the teacher hero of the Security Fair at Thursday night’s American Teachers Society’s opening banquet. The conference would be dedicated to his memory in honor of his sacrifice.
“What a significant opportunity we have been given to raise the public’s perception of a teacher’s love for his students. We must also see this as an opportunity to attack the president’s insane perception that we are at war with all Arabs and Muslims,” Girds declared to the executive committee gathered to review the final program. “We have a message to send to the American people, and for once we should have an audience to hear. Two of the major networks have agreed to cover the presentation. Tonight is our night.”
“Be careful not to make this overtly political,” Sandra Freeman cautioned. “Let the public draw their own conclusions. The contrast should be obvious from the program. This award, along with inviting former President Cox to be the keynote speaker, should be enough. Not every American teacher sees the issues as we do. Speaking of that, what do we do tomorrow about the president’s call for people to gather to pray and seek forgiveness? There are Christians here among our membership.”
“Look, religious fanaticism is what has generated this nightmare of terrorism,” Girds answered. “I say we simply have a moment of silence and get on with the agenda.”
“That will not be enough for some,” George Cook pointed out, “and frankly, I am one of them. I have never objected to the political direction of this organization, and I am not a Christian, but when you choose to ignore the president’s call to stand before God, I have to draw a line. Whether you like him or not, he is the leader of our country and what he asked has a historical basis. We should honor that.”
“You do what you want on your own time, but we have too full an agenda to give up an afternoon,” Girds answered. “We only meet once a year.”
Ignoring Dr. Girds, Cook went on, “I propose that we change the agenda and dedicate tomorrow afternoon as a time when those who attend have the opportunity to follow the president’s request if that is what they desire to do. Those who don’t would enjoy some free time to golf or shop, but those who want to do as the president requested should have the opportunity.”
Debates like this were occurring all across the United States as decisions were made about the president’s call. Many ended as this one did — with nothing more than a moment of silence set aside. But this was not the case for all, as some people truly understood the significance of the choice.
In the invisible, every entity, event, and person was a spiritual battlefield as people were making their choice about tomorrow.
Events Accelerate
Even as the ATS executive committee had debated their choice, a Saudi diplomatic aircraft landed at Sky Harbor Airport carrying Baqir Dawood and the envelope containing the Sheik’s instructions for Ahmad Habid. Moving quickly through the airport with no luggage other than a locked diplomatic briefcase, Dawood entered a limousine for the drive to the Westin Kierland Resort. There, Habid waited with Phygelus Aladr. Together, J-10 and J-14 waited for the arrival of this message and the other teacher coordinators from across the country.
Further South, Seth Wilson was an hour away from Carmen, Arizona. He had been sent by Homeland Security to follow up on the conversation Kayla Walker had with the kid, Juan Martinez, regarding suspicious activities at the old Craig place.
In Washington, Darrell Reed had been scrambling; working quickly with Pastor Wilson, long-distance, to set up the Together We Pray website so it could receive messages as well as send out messages. “God must be working in this,” he thought as he heard the test results. He had called the archbishop of Rwanda, who had responded and sent a message from Rwanda in the Igikiga dialect, which Pastor Wilson reported was viewed by Christians in Williams clearly in English. “Believers anywhere in the world can communicate with each other,” thought Pastor Wilson as he quickly prepared a message to post which advised the readership around the world.
Through the wisdom of Darrell, a computer link was set in Washington so that believers in the CIA and Homeland Security would be able to read messages instantly with those in Williams as they came into the website. An urgent message was posted, calling for believers around the world to ask God to open their eyes to anything suspicious around them that pointed toward terrorist activity or military movement within the next thirty days. Believers were asked to share anything God revealed, regardless of the perceived importance. The request ended with these instructions, “Whatever God may show you as an answer to your prayers, please share by return email. Trust God that you will be protected. Together let us seek God to end the violence and protect the innocent, and to change hearts and open eyes to Him.”
The little group in Williams stopped to pray even as the request was posted, asking that it might be seen by those who could be used to reveal the plan and the participants. They prayed not knowing what they were standing against, but they were sure in their hearts that only God could provide the way to overcome.
Elsewhere in Williams, Sally Johnson sat stunned, having completed her initial reading of Susan Stafford’s journal. “I can’t believe this,” she said. “The first three-fourths reads like it was written by a demon from hell, and then everything changes. It is as if a different person entirely is writing another story, looking back on the nightmare. She chronicles every shooting. There is no doubt she was the shooter, and it appears she acted alone.”
“What now?” Samson asked. “We need to make her letter public as soon as we can. We don’t want people at the memorial service making comments about her without knowing the truth, but the journal is a whole different issue.”
“I agree,” Sally added. “I would like to respect her wishes and keep the journal away from the press if Chief Thompson agrees. It needs to be published, and if that can be done in a way to help the injured and the families of the victims, that would be a good thing.”
“Let’s make some copies and take them to the chief and see how he wants to handle disclosure,” Samson suggested. They left quickly for police headquarters, calling forensics to comb Susan Stafford’s apartment for further evidence to be absolutely certain no one else was involved.
Besserman’s Explosion
Back in Washington, the recess had ended, and Professor Daniel Thompson had commenced his testimony on the dangers of a religion-based foreign policy before the Senate committee looking to amend the Hate Crimes Act. His focus was on separating biblical Israel from the political state of Israel, which he contended are not the same.
For generations we have dealt with the political entity Israel as fiction, causing us to skew our policy to every other nation in the Middle East at a terrible cost. America’s hands are covered with the blood of innocent Arabs killed in the on-going conflict which we fund and support unconditionally. Generations of Arab men, women, and children have endured poverty and desperation, lives without hope so that America could maintain the fiction that Israel exists on the Promised Land given to them by their God. You need to go no further than this to see the dangers of unbridled religious fervor.
The hate and violence we face in these terrorist attacks, even the attempted killing of the children in Williams this morning, although terrible, is nothing other than payback for the deaths America has caused by allowing religious fervor to control our foreign policy. That same danger flows over into individual relationships, which is why I am here today to urge this committee to support the proposed amendment to the Hate Crimes Act to stop religiously motivated hate speech and conduct.
America must first police itself on the home front and then practice what it preaches by devising a new foreign policy which has as its goal as fairness and the ultimate good of the United States. Religion is a private matter and must not be allowed to motive individual conduct at the expense of another or the nation’s foreign policy at the expense of the country. Thank you, Mr. Chairman.
Senator Besserman rose before his microphone, finger pointed at the witness, shaking with anger and said, “So what you’re telling us, Professor Thompson, is that we should sacrifice the only true democracy in the Middle East, a trusted friend and ally of America, to appease those who kill us in the name of their religion, people who refuse to care for their own and who have condemned generations of their own to refugee camps? You need to change your name to Daniel Brutus; you already have the knife in the back.”
Chairman Crow pounded his gavel shouting, “You are out of order! Sit down, Senator.”
“No, you are out of order, Mr. Chairman,” Besserman responded loudly. “The whole committee is out of order, and I for one will have nothing further to do with this circus! Mr. Secretary, you be sure to let my office know when the vote comes up on this amendment so I can come back and vote NO. I am out of here.” And with that, he stomped out of the hearing room, the whole event carefully captured and broadcasted live to living rooms across America.
Act III–Not Exactly According to Script
In Cambridge, Massachusetts, the day was not so bright for Dr. Harold Bristol as the Justice Department lawyers zeroed in on their subpoena as part of his deposition in the “civil rights” lawsuit he had filed. Things just weren’t going according to the script.
“Dr. Bristol, where are the documents which you were subpoenaed to bring today?” asked Larry Jordan, an assistant United States attorney. “You must understand that both individually and as the representative of Harkins College, you have not simply been asked to produce documents, you have been commanded to produce them.”
“Hold on a minute, we object to the overbroad nature of the requests,” responded Professor Trice, who was acting as his counsel. “These records are covered by privacy rights of students.”
“I am going to have fun if you make that objection to the grand jury subpoena,” Jordan responded. “That objection is trash, and you of all people know that. I am prepared to call the judge this very minute, and you can make that argument. We want those records now. It is a matter of national security, life, and death. I suppose the next thing you will tell me is that this morning’s attempted killings of the children in Williams were really only the accidental discharge of a firearm.”
“Wait a minute,” Dr. Bristol insisted. “The terrorist attacks in Williams have nothing to do with Harkins students or faculty.”
“Dr. Bristol, I am not going to argue with you, but what do you think the president was trying to tell you confidentially? One of your students or faculty members was coordinating a major terrorist attack against the United States from your campus and was using your Graduate School of Education computer lab to communicate with conspirators. The whole plan appears to have been launched on your campus and is being carried out under the leadership of your graduates. You are the ones who chose to try and make this a political issue. It’s not. It’s a criminal issue — a national security emergency. We will not allow you to delay disclosure and make this a political circus.”
“You are way out of line,” Trice responded angrily. “You fools think you see a terrorist under every bed. This is nothing more than an attack on our Constitution and this institution, and you will not succeed. The American people won’t allow it.”
“Enough,” Jordan replied, equally angry. Turning to a staff lawyer, he said, “Jim, see if you can get the judge on the line. Tell him we have a significant documents issue in the middle of a deposition relating to national security.
“While we are waiting for the court to schedule us, let’s continue with the deposition. Dr. Bristol, other than Professor Trice, with whom did you discuss the possibility of filing this lawsuit?”
The question was met with silence. “In particular, I want to know with whom in Washington you discussed the possibility of filing this lawsuit before it was filed.”
“I am going to instruct you not to answer that question,” Trice stated with authority.
“Are you going to refuse to answer?” Jordan directed his response to Dr. Bristol, looking him directly in the eyes.
“I have to follow my lawyer’s advice,” Dr. Bristol coldly responded. “I decline to answer.”
“Fine, if that is the way you want it. Jim, advise the court that we want to discuss contempt and sanctions too. Dr. Trice, you know those instructions are a violation of the rules of civil procedure, which specifically prohibit such conduct unless the question seeks communications between an attorney and his client. Are you sure you don’t want to withdraw that instruction?”
Before Trice could answer, Jim announced, “The court is on the line. The judge will hear us now.”
“Great, put the phone in the middle of the table and set it on speaker,” Jordan responded.
“Good morning, your honor, sorry to interrupt your day,” Jordan began.
“No problem, Mr. Jordan,” Judge Hightower responded. “This is what I get paid to do. What is this about, a national security issue?”
A Different Way to Overcome
Chief Thompson agreed; the journal would remain private for some time, and Susan Stafford’s note would not be released until after the memorial service was completed.
“Thank you,” Sally Johnson said. “As important as this is, it shouldn’t divert attention from the memorial service. Those hurting people need this special time, and the national press is already all over it.”
“Someone needs to help me understand this,” Chief Thompson replied. “All that cold-blooded, calculated evil in every word, and then those experiences with supposed angels of light and darkness? I don’t get it. Suddenly, this killer is risking her life to protect others and claims to have found God. If it weren’t for the way she died and her refusal to blame anyone else or destroy the journal, I would write her off as another fraud trying to escape the consequences of what she did. But this letter and journal are not fake, that’s for sure, and she didn’t have to die this morning.”
“I’m with you, Chief,” Samson added. “There are a lot of people that are going to be asking those questions when this all becomes public.”
“Pete, we need to go. We have got to get a copy of this note to Pastor Scribes so that he and anyone else speaking this afternoon is informed about the shooter and don’t simply paint her as a hero.”
“Agreed… but in the end, wasn’t she a hero?”
As they left for College Church, the president had already been taken secretly to the church’s educational facility, where he surprised the waiting relatives of those injured and killed, along with many of the wounded who had been gathered in a large assembly room. He too was surprised when he encountered the smiling Tom Campy, still in a wheelchair, but miraculously recovering quickly. He was humbled by this man who had stood alone against the assault, and thankful that the millions of prayers for this courageous man had been answered. The Bookseller had told him of Tom’s invitation to the press conference that really launched the whole prayer movement — which was now greatly impacting the nation. “It is a wonder,” he thought, “how God uses simple acts of obedience which seem at the time to have no relevance to anything going on in the world. We have no concept of the plans of God or how He wants to use us.”
One by one, the president and Janet went to each person and family group, listening intently to their stories, seeking to comfort and encourage. There were tears and hugs, prayers and deep sighs. The president felt helpless seeking to fill the void, wishing he could somehow end the hurt and eliminate the pain. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.
There was, however, a wonderful moment of joy in the midst of the tears as he got to thank both Tom Campy and Sally Johnson, who had joined the group after giving a copy of the note to Pastor Scribes. He paused to thank Campy for his vision and courage, and Sally for her state of mind to react to the danger and preserve lives. Campy responded, “Oh no, Mr. President, it is you that God has given both vision and courage. I am praying for you.”
Humbled, the president thanked him and was then interrupted briefly by Pastor Scribes. “Mr. President, I apologize, but there is something I have to show you before the service,” and taking him aside, Pastor Scribes handed the president a copy of Susan’s note. The president was immediately stunned, but then asked, “Pastor, may I have this? I may want to refer to it in my comments.”
“Mr. President, this has not even been released to the press,” Pastor Scribes responded. “The police were going to hold it until after the service.”
“I don’t want to steal their thunder,” the president answered, “but this is really important to what we are doing today. Don’t you see? Even a serial killer can be changed by God.”
“I understand. It’s yours.”
After a pause, “Mr. President, it is about time to go in and begin the service.”
“Thank you.” Turning to the crowd of survivors, relatives, and loved ones, the president said, “Before we go into the service, will you join with Janet and I in a time of prayer?” Reaching for her hand and Tom Campy’s, the whole group spontaneously joined hands to pray. “Any of you who wishes, please pray out loud, and when you are finished, I will close.”
The time came for the service to begin as the waiting audience wondered at what was about to happen. In the invisible, there was great rejoicing among the forces of light as the music of the collective prayers was lifted to Heaven. The Father listened intently, and His response to each prayer was immediate as he dispatched what each of the praying people needed. He answered whether they had known to ask for it or not and whether their prayer had been out loud or simply in their hearts. The two remaining archangels, Michael and Gabriel, were dispatched to confront the forces of darkness — which always sought to hinder and delay the answers to prayers — for on that day, in that place and at that time, no delays would be tolerated. A peace fell upon those assembled in prayer. They were experiencing the joy of the Lord. The light within burned brightly in every committed heart.
The delay was almost thirty minutes, and the waiting crowd was shocked as the president and Janet came in with the families, led by Tom Campy being pushed in his wheelchair by Sally Johnson. The people rose to their feet as strings of loud curses were heard in the White House press room as the Press Corp saw on TV that the president was in Williams for the service. Once again, ITN had streamed the broadcast on its website for the world to see, but this time they had also made it available on the Together We Pray website at the request of Pastor Scribes. The Senate committee hearings in Washington were preempted, and their television audience was transferred electronically to the Williams service, even as Pastor Scribes stepped to the podium to pray.
“Lord,” he began, “we come before you this day to ask that Your hand of healing rest on the injured, Your presence be among the grieving and for You to change our hearts that we might forgive even as You forgave those who crucified You.15 Give us joy as we celebrate the lives of those who are now home with You. Be honored in all that we do this day. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
The large screen at the front of the auditorium was filled with a compilation of home videos and still photographs interspersed with tributes to those killed and injured in the attacks. At Pastor Scribes’ request, they also included tributes for soldiers killed anywhere in service around the world that week. Behind the visual presentation was music with a message including Ray Boltz’s moving song, “Thank You for Giving to the Lord.” Soon there was not a dry eye in the building, and few among those watching as people came to realize the tragedy of the lives cut short by unbridled hate.
There were solos and old-time congressional singing of familiar songs including, “In the Garden,” “It Is Well with My Soul,” and “Amazing Grace.” It was like a family sing-along with words that comforted and refreshed the soul. “What a contrast,” thought Paul Phillips as he held Samantha’s hand, remembering the funeral for her dad that had started his journey. “If the Curtain opened now, I am sure I would not see so many of those dark things.”
What Paul thought was absolutely true, for that service was under God’s protection. The forces of darkness had abandoned the fight in the building and now sought to draw the television audience away.
After Pastor Scribes completed his message, which once again focused on forgiveness, the president stood and walked to the podium.
“I stand before you today not as the president of the United States, but as a grieving friend who has been privileged to spend the past several hours with these precious hurting people,” he said, opening his hands to indicate the families and relatives present before him. “I wish all Americans could have joined with Janet and me to hear their stories and share their tears. I am thankful for the beautiful video we were able to watch together; in a small way, it painted a picture of the loss they have suffered individually and the loss we have suffered together as a nation. These were not people who can be easily replaced, for they were men and women of character, faithful to their spouses and children and their faith in the Creator and giver of all life. They truly represent the foundation upon which this nation was built, and the only hope it has for the future.
“We live in perilous times, as this morning again evidences. Hateful people seek only to kill, steal, and destroy all that we hold dear. These are times which require courage and sacrifice, character, and forgiveness; the very best there is in people. It is what we expect from those who are men and women of faith. It is what has been found in this city, and in this place.
“We are gathered today among heroes. Two of these heroes stood and fought. One of them is a pastor who literally ran to the terrorists and offered his life, diverting the attention of the terrorist long enough for Officer Sally Johnson to find the gun which had been lost. Tom Campy fell to the ground from the wounds he suffered while defending the innocents whose only ‘crime’ was a desire to attend a church service. The horror of the possible mass destruction was eliminated, and God was gracious, but we have before us the remnants of the pain, hurt and death launched here only a week ago.
“My friends watching across America and around the world, there are lessons here in Williams we need to learn quickly. Had you been with me in our time with the families and friends of those needlessly and indiscriminately struck down by the killers, you would have seen the difference between a religion of hate where self-appointed judges carry out what they perceive to be the wrath of their god without mercy, and the God of these suffering men and women of faith who motivates them with love to reach out to share their faith and leave judgment and wrath in the hands of God. There were many words of anguish and many questions, but there was no hate or desire to strike back apart from self-defense or preventing future attacks.
“Some in America — and around the world — seek to equate passion for the Christian God with the passionate religious hate which motivated the killers. That thought would never enter the mind of one who walked with those who are suffering and grieving here in Williams. Their passion is expressed by reaching out even as Jesus did when He walked the earth and gave Himself up for all who would put down their wants and desires to serve Him. They will tell you of their faith and pray that you become a believer, but no one fears that they will kill you if you choose not to believe or decide to believe something different. I am thankful to be one of them. And just like them, I have made my choice to be on God’s side. Tomorrow I will join with fellow brothers and sisters to stand before God in repentance for the things we have done and are doing in this nation that offends Him, and things we have not done that we know we should have. Many will gather in this place, and I hope you will find a place or make your home a place for others to gather and make their choice.
“As we grieve, we must not lose hope, for the God of love is also the God of the impossible. He is the only one who can change hearts and turn a soul dominated by hate and evil into one filled with love and light. Yes, we must forgive, even as Pastor Scribes just said, and we must fight to defend ourselves against those who seek to kill us. We must pray for changed hearts; both our own and those who have chosen to be our enemies.
“Can God change a heart filled with hate and evil into a heart of compassion?” He paused to let the question sink in as he spread the copy of Susan Stafford’s note before him.
“I want to read a portion of something to you which is indisputable proof that we must not respond in hate but in prayer that a people of hate be changed, for they can be changed. Listen carefully,” and he began to read.
If you have found this note, hopefully, by God’s grace I am dead and died better than I lived. My life was a waste. I was evil and cruel beyond human imagination, cold and uncaring until my eyes were opened to the truth of what I had become and I screamed in horror at myself.
I WAS the one you called the Williams’ shooter.
There were audible gasps from the crowd as they realized what the president had just read. He continued slowly and deliberately so that every word would be heard and understood.
I am solely responsible for all the hurt, injury and death, and am without excuse. I deserve the cruelest punishment and death ever devised for what I did, and I know what that is. It is crucifixion. I deserve to die that way.
I cannot change what I did or I would. I am so sorry now for the pain and anguish I have caused. I am unworthy of anyone’s forgiveness, so I will not even ask.
“This is only a portion of a note that was taken from the body of Susan Stafford this morning after she was killed by terrorists. She was taken as she stood and confronted them when they sought to kill the children at Kingdom Daycare, less than a mile from where I now stand.
“Think about that carefully — the shooter who killed and hurt so many in this city, dying in one of those red jackets as she stood to defend children against those who were doing exactly what she herself had done. How can this be?
“The answer is right here,” he said as he picked up Pastor Scribes’ Bible that had been left on the podium at the president’s request. “Let me read 2 Corinthians 5:17. It says, ‘Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old is gone, the new has come!’
“There it is. God removed the old in Susan Stafford’s heart and replaced it with a new heart of love; His heart. Now, if God can do that with a serial killer who terrorized this city for months, He can surely do that with anyone whose life is dominated by hate.
“Some believe that hate can be removed by legislation or compromise, or a change in foreign or military policy. They are well intended but ignore the lessons of history and the intricacies of the human heart. Hate can only be removed by God, and only then by the gift of a new heart.
“As we seek this day to remember those who are hurting and grieving, let us honor their memory and those who have died at the hands of terrorist attacks. Let’s honor them by committing to join together to pray without ceasing that hearts be changed so that hate is exorcised that we all may live without fear. That would be the real living memorial to the victims of all these attacks — a world without fear of terrorism.”
The president stepped back as the Bookseller walked to the podium and closed the service in prayer.
Nothing but Ashes
“He has lost it! There’s no one at home — it’s lights out at the White House,” former President Cox yelled at the television as the memorial service ended. “The man is a terminal fool, a religious nut! How will we ever survive the next twenty-two months?” he declared loudly to no one other than himself.
Located high above everyone in the Presidential Suite of the Westin Kierland Resort, Leonard Cox had been watching the service less than a hundred feet from Demas Assad and Phygelus Aldar’s suite, four floors below, as they opened the envelope delivered by Baqir Dawood. The message read simply, “MD March 11–execution teams cease all current activities and become part of MD.” The message was in English, and not encoded. No signature or indication of where it originated was included or necessary. They knew.
“Good,” said Assad shaking his head up and down in approval. “Now we know when and we can tell our people. There is enough time to prepare and to escape.”
“Yes,” Aldar agreed, “and the addition of the execution teams on MD will further confuse and strike terror into the hearts of the Americans.”
“I am glad for another reason,” Assad continued. “It was clear we needed to do something. The Williams experiment failed miserably. We lost everyone, and the enemy only got better organized. They are looking for us everywhere, and it is obvious from the Harkins lawsuit that they are close. We have to get the word out tonight after the opening session and appoint new leadership. We won’t last until MD. My flight leaves from here tomorrow morning. I will travel under a new name with new identification. I suggest you do likewise. I’m not even going back to pack.”
“Agreed,” Aldar added. “I hadn’t planned on leaving this early, but it makes sense. I have several remaining alternative identities and papers. We can work from the Mexican side until March 11th, and then we move to Europe to prepare for life after the United States.”
“Did you get the room list from conference management?” Assad asked.
“I did,” Aldar responded.
“Good. We can move quickly room to room tonight and go through the new instructions.”
“Who will be your replacement?”
“I will use Walid Ghazi, and I suggest you use Tariq Qusay. They are both based in California, which is a long way from Cambridge. We have had little contact with them over the years, and they are not Harkins graduates. The Americans will have difficulty tracing them from us. They work well together, and remember, they were with us that summer when we did the initial planning.”
“Good choice; they can be trusted,” Aldar replied. “Qusay had to dispose of one of his operatives earlier. He didn’t flinch. They will do whatever it takes to succeed.”
Lighting a match, Assad set the note on fire, dropping it in an empty trashcan as the flame rose. Smiling he said, “That is how America will end; in fire, nothing but ashes on the trash pit of history.”
