Chapter 10: Military Justice

Wednesday, August 13th, 1100 ET—The Pentagon

The briefing room was packed with reporters awaiting the new military leadership’s press briefing. Multiple cameras were set up to televise the briefing nationwide on the primary networks. The audience was seated in an auditorium capable of holding hundreds. It resembled a theater with the podium at the lowest point of the room facing the ascending rows of seats. Much of the chamber was cordoned off to limit the number of journalists and talking heads to a few dozen. Only those selected by lottery to sit in the front row could ask questions.

None of the media personnel knew what to expect. They weren’t even aware of the event until several public affairs officers appeared before the press pool lot adjacent to the Metro Station terrace. They commanded the mob’s attention and randomly selected news personnel from each major network and media outlet. The chosen were escorted inside and stripped of all electronics, including cell phones, cameras, and recorders. The security checkpoint included metal detectors, body scanners, and canines. Once their electronics were cleared, they were returned, and then the group was escorted to the auditorium and offered refreshments. A sharply dressed Air Force Lieutenant informed them of the pending brief and the rules and conditions they were expected to abide by. Half a dozen uniformed guards stood around the auditorium with white MP brassards to underscore the strict atmosphere. They wore tactical helmets and carried M4 carbines slung close to their chests.

They waited for twenty minutes until the overhead lights were adjusted to illuminate the podium. They turned when a side door opened to admit a single individual. He was a middle-aged man with a tall frame and broad shoulders, wearing meticulous Army dress blues. As he crossed the room, they saw an array of colorful ribbons on the left side of his chest. Beneath his decorations, he wore the prestigious yellow and black Airborne rocker centered between his Jump badge with a silver parachute and an Expert Infantry badge. He wore a braided aiguillette on his left shoulder with three gold loops and blue spiral bands. His dark brown hair was cropped severely, so his scalp glistened beneath the lights.

As he approached the platform, he skirted the podium, stepping in front of it to face the audience. There was complete silence as he studied each chosen member before folding his hands behind his back.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said smoothly. He didn’t ask if he could be heard without a microphone. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel James Keller, adjutant liaison for the DOD Public and Civil Affairs division and Chairman of the J5 Concurrent Threat Assessment Steering Committee.” He paused to let his introduction sink in and saw several people taking notes. “I am responsible for sifting through incoming intelligence regarding our national security and the ongoing threat within our borders to develop operational plans.”

“I snoop out terrorists and advise my boss on how best to kill them.” He remained still except for his head, which turned slowly to make eye contact with everyone in the audience. “I’m here informally to update you on our national situation, its effects on you, and what citizens need to know to combat these insurgents. I’ll keep my points concise and allow time for questions.”

He turned to give equal time to each stationary camera.

“Two days ago, on Tuesday, August 11th, the President of the United States ordered a limited tactical air strike on a suspected Insurgent compound 25 miles northeast of Amarillo, Texas. This would be the first time in the 250-year history of our great nation, that US warplanes would project their power within our borders.”

Sudden excited murmurs and troubling exclamations erupted.

“Why didn’t we hear about this?” demanded a gray-haired woman in the third row, ignoring the established etiquette. The remaining reporters and journalists quieted down and looked at him expectantly.

“Because it never happened,” Jim replied. “The order specified the use of multiple low-yield nuclear weapons—” he paused for another outcry and lifted his arms for quiet. “You can be assured the order met similar outrage from the Joint Chiefs of Staff,” he continued. “It was immediately rejected and condemned as an ill-advised ‘statement’ to our enemies. It was a unilateral decision by the executive branch that ignored the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty—and disregarded over a dozen less drastic measures from our military commanders. Simply put, the radiological effects would’ve impacted a radius from Amarillo to Oklahoma City.” A projector screen lit up the wall behind him, showing the topographical region with a dark red circle encompassing the radius. He turned, grabbed a water bottle, and took several small sips before glancing back at the cameras.

“Due to this unprecedented order, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs called an emergency meeting, and, by unanimous vote, the threat assessment was raised to Alpha One. That afternoon at 1700 hours Eastern time, the United States of America was placed under martial law. This was broadcast over the Emergency Alert system, and local news outlets were tasked to update their communities.

“Immediately after the order, the Secretary of Defense, who hand-delivered the order, was placed in custody, and a series of Emergency General Orders were activated. One stripped the Executive Branch of power, disbanded Congress, and limited the Judicial Branch’s authority without impacting local, state, or federal law enforcement.” He took another drink, waving down further questions.

“Foremost on the minds of every American citizen now is—what impact will this have on me and my family? My answer is: hopefully very little—if you behave accordingly. To explain, I will clarify what martial law means.

“It means the military has taken over the U.S. government, rescinding the Posse Comitatus Act, which prohibits military forces from performing civilian law enforcement activities. This means that anyone committing a crime can be punished under the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

“Law-abiding citizens can continue living as before: go to work, school, and celebrate holidays. Nearly every aspect of the nation’s infrastructure remains intact. Trucks and trains are still being delivered, the postal service operates, and TV stations and cable networks are broadcasting. Stock Exchanges remain open, and air travel continues with heightened security and some restrictions. In the coming weeks, you should notice a decline in expenses as essential products and services like rent, food, fuel, and healthcare come under another EGO.”

Jim paused for another drink and acknowledged a front-row Journalist standing with her hand raised. “Ma’am, I’ll indulge you this time, but then I insist you hold your questions,” he asserted.

“Thank you, Colonel, Gabriella Chantoine, Reuters. Sir, all these extreme measures are meant to stabilize the country and maintain the peace, correct?”

Jim nodded, “That’s correct.” He knew where she was going and smiled inwardly.

“But what about terrorists and criminals acting with impunity, ignoring curfews? It parallels the old Second Amendment argument that if guns are outlawed, only outlaws will have guns...”

He set his water aside and resumed his relaxed position. “Thank you for stating it so poignantly, Ms. Chantoine,” he smiled. “This segues back to the Emergency Orders I mentioned. In addition to removing our elected officials from power, the sole purpose of martial law is to stabilize the country and fix the problem that caused the underlying problem. To that end, another General Order was activated, which authorized broader military action within our borders. Previously, the US military operated outside the continental US, and our intelligence community was constrained from operating within CONUS. That is no longer the case.” He stared directly into a camera.

“Our military forces may operate within our cities or wherever our enemies operate and act decisively, with impunity. We have the full power and support of the NSA, CIA, and our allies. We have reconnaissance satellites to locate and identify enemy insurgents and a fleet of Reaper drones to eliminate them. We are at war and involved in conflicts within our borders and beyond. We will defeat these enemies.”

“What about the reported nuclear strikes in Iran by the Israeli Air Force?” This from another man seated to the left and behind the Reuters journalist.

General Robert Gallagher sat at his desk, watching the press conference with pursed lips and a studious expression. He glanced at a sharp rap on his door and barked, “Come!”

He promptly stood up when the Chairman entered the spacious room, followed by several three and four-star generals and their attaches. “Good evening, Admiral—”

“Did you authorize this press briefing?” the highest-ranking officer in the nation demanded.

Gallagher relaxed and shrugged. “It’s part of Lt. Colonel Keller’s duties in his warrant.”

“Christ, Rob!” his Air Force superior exclaimed. “This is beyond his scope! He’s discussing top level—”

“And doing it with alacrity, General,” he replied, grinning. “Look at him! He’s a goddamn natural in front of the press. Look at them, gawking at him like they’re watching Reagan give a fire-side chat!”

“Dammit, General,” the Chairman snapped, waving his embroidered sleeve full of gold stripes at the monitor on his desk. “He’s only a light Colonel. He isn’t cleared for this!”

“With all due respect, sir, that’s bullshit! That man knows more about this situation than anyone else here. His insights, geopolitical, threat assessment, military law, countermeasures, ideology ... No one explains it better to Joe Dirt.”

“C’mon, General,” the CMC growled. “Consider the optics. A panel with a designated speaker must vet and present formal statements.”

“This is why Jim said from the start he was giving an informal presentation,” Rob interjected. “Would you rather he write a complicated narrative for your panel to mess up in their briefs? Look, he hasn’t discussed anything sensitive. If anything, he’s making Akhmed piss himself. And scaring Joe Citizen straight.”

“Clint’s right, Rob,” the Chairman nodded to the Marine. “The optics don’t favor a detailed brief, informal or otherwise, by an O-5.”

General Gallagher gazed back at the military chiefs. “So, fix it.”

“Sir, you’re out of turn, and I’ll advise you to hold your questions or be removed.” Jim glowered at the reporter before continuing. “I can’t speak to that issue other than to confirm what the global issues team stated.” He pointed to himself, “I’m concerned with what’s happening in our streets and neighborhoods.

“Which brings me to my fourth point.” He paused for a swig of water. Another reporter jumped up, and he regarded them with a stony expression and a brief shake of his head. The newsman grumbled hesitantly before retaking his seat. “Under Tango Alpha, the military oversees the judicial system and the rule of law. That does not mean law enforcement, investigative agencies, and the courts will close shop. They are working harder now, helping mitigate the strain on our justice system. With enforced curfews and a larger presence of military and law enforcement personnel, we hope to curb criminal activity and domestic unrest.

“The difference is where civil authority ends and the military steps in. Suppose anyone commits acts of violence or causes willful harm to people or property, affecting national security and citizen safety. In that case, they fall under military tribunal jurisdiction and will be prosecuted accordingly.

“Military law means military judges will adjudicate such criminal behavior, and under martial law, the judgments and punishments are swift and severe. Due process is limited to a single hearing where a panel of three military judges will decide guilt or innocence. These military tribunals will be established as higher courts where the judge advocates will hold the rank of O-6 or higher and rule on the most severe offenses—or lower courts for lesser crimes. These Military tribunals are being established nationwide, in every state.” He nodded to a dark window near the door; the projector screen blinked and changed to a PowerPoint presentation.

“I will address many of your questions,” he said as a PowerPoint slide appeared behind him. It listed several relevant Constitutional statutes: “Many states have legal statutes limiting and regulating prescribed punishments for various criminal offenses. Some have moratoriums on capital punishment or ban specific methods.”

“All of that is superseded by martial law.” He paused for effect and gazed at a camera. “That means the death penalty is back, and it will be used...” An image of a semi-truck appeared on the wall. It was pulling a flatbed trailer carrying a raised box-like platform with a solid steel beam crossing above it. “Every high court will have prefabricated gallows to carry out executions when ordered. Hanging is now the only prescribed method.”

The image zoomed in on the platform, became animated, assembled itself by raising the platform over hydraulic stanchions, and demonstrated the trap door mechanisms. Three square panels were arranged on the stage with an eye bolt overhead on the cross beam. Three cables appeared, uncoiled and clipped into the eye bolts. Three humanoid figures appeared on the stage, one over each trapdoor, with bound hands and hooded heads. The audience noted the center figure had breasts. There were gasps when three shorter lengths of thick rope or cable appeared, with an eyelet on one end and a sturdy clip on the other. Each cord looped through its eyelet before settling over a figure’s neck, clipping itself to the overhead cable with a click. Each noose drew tight, and the image zoomed out and rotated until the three figures faced the audience. The trap doors snapped open, and several journalists and reporters cried out in shock as the animated prisoners dropped through, jerking to a halt with their heads just below the floor.

“Sentences will be carried out within an hour of sentencing,” Jim declared calmly. “Each prisoner will have 15 minutes with a representative of their faith before the sentence is carried out. Immediately after execution, their remains will be transported to a local incinerator for cremation.”

Jim stood tall before the group, observing their expressions. Many looked shocked and dismayed, others contemplative.

“Questions?”

Jesus Jimbo! Rob laughed incredulously to the consternation of his superiors beside him.

The Commandant of the Marine Corps broke the heavy silence, “That brass-balled bastard should’ve been a Marine!”

“Are there penalties besides capital punishment?” a young Middle Eastern man asked.

“Of course,” Jim replied casually. “Depending on the court ruling, a person can face time in a prison labor camp,” he explained. “If a lower court is divided over a case, they may refer it to the higher court. And vice versa.” He nodded to an ABC correspondent.

“Colonel, what crime would warrant capital punishment instead of a lesser sentence?”

He smiled thinly and shrugged. “I’m not a judge,” he explained. “If I were commanding a unit, I could award non-judicial punishment under the UCMJ, but I couldn’t differentiate between bad and really bad.” He tucked his chin before adding. “The simple answer is if a person commits murder, rape, treason or deserts their post, they could swing for it.” He turned back to the cameras. “If you get caught breaking into a store and stealing food, you might end up in a prison camp. If you steal a television or a car, destroy someone’s property, or commit arson—you could end up in front of the high court. In a military tribunal, there are no victimless crimes.” He stared at the next camera, “My advice ... don’t ef around and find out.”

“What about the First Amendment?” someone from the back burst.

“What do you call this?” Jim shot back, waving his hands. “Do you feel your freedom of speech is being quelled or restricted? You can leave and write or say whatever you want, and the American people are free to listen or change the channel.” He nodded toward another front-row journalist, but the same correspondent cut him off.

“What about the right to assemble?”

He glared at the man, who gazed back defiantly. “If you interrupt again, you will be removed. Sit down!” he barked. The man flinched and returned to his seat. “To answer your question—that’s a slippery slope, but the key word is ‘peaceful.’” James looked at a darkened window to the A/V control room, gestured, and drank from his water bottle. The PowerPoint image behind him disappeared, replaced by footage from the surveillance drone overlooking the Insurgent celebration two nights before. The screen split to show a clip from insurgent cameras revealing the burning squad cars and blurred-out bodies of the captured and killed troopers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re about to witness the second military air strike on American soil by US forces in response to attacks against our energy infrastructure in North Texas. This is a celebration by the Taliban insurgents who carried out those attacks, thinking they had crippled our nation.” He paused for the video. The Global Hawk imaging capabilities were incredible, offering close-up infrared and gray-scale images seconds before the bomblets were disbursed in a precise pattern. The screen was whited out but refocused as the area was blanketed with overlapping explosions.

“Less than a dozen reported survivors were taken into custody, and only five survived to receive treatment. They will be interrogated, treated as enemies of the state, and tried accordingly.” He nodded toward another front-row journalist, taking a moment to sip more water.

A middle-aged bald man stood, addressing him, “Lieutenant Colonel Keller, Mike Sisken, Reuters. Sir, can you comment on the estimated damages and death tolls from the recent attacks?”

James placed his water bottle on the podium and nodded toward the black window. The screen showed a topographical map of the country with marked areas. “There were coordinated attacks against four power grids in different states with varying damage, the worst being North Texas where outages affected 300,000 residents. Initial assessments suggest energy can be rerouted in days to mitigate most of those affected. A similar attack targeted a larger wind farm in Central Kansas, knocking out 13% of its capacity; existing infrastructure, nuclear plants, and neighboring states will absorb this. Two other attacks were reported in California at the Diablo Canyon nuclear facility and a large coal-burning plant in Tennessee, with no damage or service interruption. Next Question.”

A young lady with too much makeup stood when acknowledged and introduced herself as an independent journalist for a popular social media platform. “Sir, what can you tell us about the errant nuclear missile launches in North Dakota?”

“I can’t tell you anything about that because it is still under investigation,” he replied. “But I want to correct you: they were NOT nuclear missiles, as none were armed with strategic warheads.”

“But the act of launching—” she persisted.

“Is under investigation, and I cannot comment further.” He raised his hand placatingly. “Look, folks, I don’t know any more than you. My job is to track terrorist attacks against civilian targets and try to prevent them by analyzing the most likely targets based on vulnerability and community impact. I am tasked with briefing you on these threats to prepare your viewers for another attack. And there will be more attacks.