Chapter 2

I worked a lot of weekends because I was single and didn’t mind, letting the married guys be home with their families. Jen worked mostly weekends, stuck in what I called the “Weekend Ghetto”. I once pointed out to the station manager that the entire Saturday lineup was all female and completely minorities. He nearly had a heart attack, thinking of the possible lawsuits, and scrambled to get white males in for Sunday. After he chewed the weekend producer a new anal orifice, a better balance was achieved, and Jen got to do a few things during the week.

If there was any hint of possible confrontation, I was the automatic producer/cameraman of choice, especially if the reporter was female, because of my military background and physical size. There had been a few incidents in the past, once during a protest sparked by an interracial shooting that turned into a small riot, another at a demostration over illegal immigration, and the most intense came while we did a field interview with a group of vets who were having trouble receiving benefits in a timely manner.

A bunch of them were suffering from PTSD, and were already dancing on the edge. One guy lost it, and got into Jen’s face. I stepped from behind the tripod and got between them. “Chill, brother. How much help you think you’d get in jail? She has no idea what you went through, and believe it or not, we’re trying to help.”

My size and the way I held myself seemed to calm him. “You were there?”

I sighed. “Yeah, I was there. Iraq and Afghanistan. Sucked both times.”

The man lost it, and fell sobbing into my arms. “Sorry, man. Ma’am, I didn’t meant to scare you. I lost my job because of my PTSD. We couldn’t afford the mortgage, and lost the house. My wife left, took my kid, because she was afraid to be around me. Sadly, it was the right thing for her to do. I’m living on the street now, got nowhere else to go.”

Another of the protestors snorted. “Suck it up, you pussy. He can say anything. He don’t know shit.”

I kind of zoned out. The guy I was holding stepped back and the other protestor flinched when he saw my face. I had a nice button up shirt and I yanked it apart, the buttons flying everywhere, the three scars evident on my chest and stomach. “I was there, asshole, got the scars and the ribbons to prove it. Now stand down and let us try to help you.”

“How?”

That stopped me. How, indeed. Jen stepped in. “By telling everyone your story. How you’re suffering while your country neglects you. I admit it’s not much, but it’s a start.”

By now I had a full head of steam. “She’s right. There’s not much we can do. But we can talk, keep it to the forefront.”

I paused, thinking. “The whole thing disgusts me. We let politicians give porkbarell deals to defense contractors, pour billions into the countires we tried to defend, knowing as it happened very little would go to help the people, the rest going straight into the pockets of every crooked politician and contractor involved. Hell, our government does things like give hundreds of millions to Brazillian cotton farmers just so they can compete with us in world markets, and give the VA small change. Men and women who served suffer and die every day because our politicians won’t get off their ass and do the right thing.

I noticed then that Jen was behind the camera. They all had a little training so they could do live remotes without having to tie up anyone else, so she knew what to do. I looked straight into the lens.

“Mr. President, members of Congress, what the hell is wrong with you? Scenes like this play out every day all across the country and you sit on your asses. How many of your sons and daughters would you let suffer before you stepped up? Breaking News, they’re all your sons and daughters! You guys need to fix this, you hear me? You need to fix it right now, today. Stop worrying about which golf course you’re going to shut down to play a round or two, the five thousand dollar a plate dinners, or where you’re vacationing on a defense contractor’s dime, AND DO YOUR DAMN JOB!”

I knew this would never see the airways, but damn, did it fell good to say it!

Chapter 3 »