Chapter 20: Back to the Salt Mines

Tuesday morning it was back to the salt mines, building the brand name of Reaper Security Consulting and solving law enforcement problems throughout the Old South. Something like that, anyway. What I did was contact Dom Ballantine and confirm that I was making a presentation to the county council of Sullivan County Thursday evening. The meeting was at seven and it was far enough away I needed to stay the night. I made a reservation at the Best Western and let Kelly know I’d drive down Thursday and be home Friday afternoon. Then I started finalizing my presentation.

I got to Sullivan County early enough that I was able to meet with Dom ahead of time. He detailed a deputy to take me over to the county office building and take me to the conference room where the meeting would be held. That allowed me to drop off my gear and set up my laptop and projector; the room already had a drop-down screen at one end. After that it was back to the department, and Dom and I headed out to a local barbecue joint for dinner.

“So, how does this look, Dom? What’s the thinking of the council?” I asked.

“More positive than I would have guessed if you had asked me a year ago.” I gave him a curious look. “Remember when I told you about the Walmart attack last year?”

“Yeah. It was a local nut who decided to get liquored up and shoot all the tan and darkly tan people he could find.”

He nodded, but continued, “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. You start digging and it gets a whole lot messier and uglier.” He paused to drink some tea and I took a bite of my barbecue. When he swallowed, he said, “The woodchuck was just the tip of the spear, so to speak. We’re starting to see a lot of these assholes and they’re coming out of the woodwork. I don’t know if you heard, but one of my deputies was driving in the area two weeks ago and got shot at.”

“Your guy alright?” I asked.

“More shook up than anything. He was just driving along on a routine patrol when a window shattered. He called it in, but we didn’t find anybody. He had some holes in the cruiser that looked like NATO 5.56.”

“Huh.”

“There’s also a lot of crap on Facebook and some other sites about people declaring themselves sovereign citizens, that sort of BS.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes at that. The sovereign citizen movement, such as it was, was a weird mixture of really oddball British common law and tax avoidance. The theory was that you could declare yourself free from control of the United States, that the federal government was an illegal construct, and that all subsequent actions of said illegal construct were themselves illegal. That meant they were immune from paying taxes, that subpoenas and summonses didn’t apply to them, and they didn’t need permits or licenses to do anything, including drivers’ licenses, marriage licenses, and so forth. Occasionally you’d find wacky financial advisers pushing the tax avoidance benefits, which really didn’t work when you dragged them in front of a court. They also liked to file false liens on cops and government officials, which clogged the system and cost money to clear up.

It was convoluted, to say the least, and free state sovereign citizens were almost universally white, a weird collection of racists, white nationalists and supremacists, survivalists, gun nuts, radical evangelicals, and tax cheats. They were crazy, dangerous, and well-armed. It had long been known, at least to law enforcement professionals, that America’s terrorism problem was with white supremacists, not radical Islamics. Sure, seven had shown up in Matucket in 2018, but they were the only ones in years; we caught far more in stings and routine undercover work before they ever got far enough to be dangerous. The right-wing crazies tended to get loose on a monthly basis, or more often, and their body count was orders of magnitude higher.

“People are getting worried?” I asked.

He chewed his own barbecue and nodded. After he swallowed, he said, “It’s not just the county council going to be at the meeting tonight. I’ve been talking to some of my counterparts, some sheriffs and police chiefs from neighboring counties, and they’re starting to get concerned as well. We’re even seeing moonshiners running from the revenooers and hillbilly mafias showing up.”

“Shit!” I muttered.

“I know you’re staying the night. I’ll introduce you to some of these guys tonight. If you have the time, I want you to sit down with some of them tomorrow morning before you head back home. Can do?”

“Can do,” I agreed. I would need to meet individually with the other law enforcement people to figure out their specific concerns but taking the meeting in the morning was a no-brainer. You always take the meeting with potential clients.

We finished our dinner and headed over to the conference room at the county council office. A few people were already milling about the hallway and more began showing up as Dom ‘s deputy let us into the room. I checked my equipment and began unpacking my handouts. Thank God for Office Depot! I had put all my spreadsheets and projections for all my scenarios, along with a cover report, into a single pdf file and then taken it to the local Office Depot a couple of weeks ago. They printed my report, did a spiral binding, and loaded the finished product into cartons. They even had a young man load it all onto a handcart and take it out to my car. My current vehicle was a year-old Lincoln MKZ. It was upscale, to show how successful I was, and American, to show I was a patriot. Something like that, anyway. How a Lincoln built in Mexico was more American than a Toyota built in Kentucky was a mystery to me.

The council meeting went smoothly, which surprised me since it was a government body. Sheriff Ballantine acted as the host, and after introducing me, he also said, “Now, before Doctor Reaper begins his presentation, I’d like to introduce a few guests. In case any of you weren’t aware, cops talk and gossip as much as anybody, only in our case it’s about cop stuff.” He introduced the other law enforcement professionals, many of whom had shown up in uniform, and continued. “All of us are concerned about some of the trends we are seeing, and they want to hear what Doctor Reaper has to say. Put simply, we have a problem, and we need to do something about it. Doctor Reaper, the floor is yours.” He stepped back and took a seat off to my side.

And it was showtime! I highlighted some of the concerns that Sheriff Ballantine had pointed out and then gave a summary of the force structure the Sullivan County Sheriff’s Department currently had. Then I gave a variety of options ranging from a SWAT-SuperLite package that was only marginally more than what they currently operated and moving up in manpower and hardware. The costs I left until the end. What really surprised me was that nobody was screaming about the costs. Either Ballantine had been priming these guys with what the costs would be, or they were really spooked about the situation and knew they had to do something about it. Or both.

One thing I pointed out was what SWAT teams could and couldn’t do. “Let me make clear, no matter which choice you make, SWAT is not a magic wand. I was SWAT, and I was pretty good at it, but SWAT is a reactive force. There’s a problem, SWAT reacts and comes to the rescue. They don’t stop crime other than by capturing criminals quickly and efficiently and preventing them from committing further crimes. SWAT would not have stopped the attack at the Walmart last year.”

A hand rose and I nodded to the man. “Sir?”

“Then what do we need a SWAT team for?”

“Fair enough. What I said was accurate. SWAT would not have stopped an attack like what you saw at Walmart, but that’s only the first step. After the attack, SWAT is excellent at the follow-up. When you identify the threat, SWAT can contain it and do a controlled entry that minimizes danger, both for the police and for the suspects. Leaving aside the jargon, after identifying a shooter, warrants for a search could be obtained and a SWAT team is perfect for approaching and entering the property and making any searches or arrests. The same goes for serving warrants on people who don’t want to be served. I used to do it all the time. Deployed properly, you could have a SWAT team on site anywhere in the county, properly equipped and outfitted, in under an hour. Just as important, by removing that tasking from your regular patrols, you have increased the manpower available to patrol the county. SWAT and a good Patrol backup is a powerful combination.” I popped up a few slides to demonstrate.

That was about the end of the presentation. I made sure everybody had a printed copy, including our guests. For them I said, “I just want to make sure you gentlemen, and lady...” One of the police chiefs was a woman. “ ... understand that the specifics and costs listed were based on numbers provided by Sheriff Ballantine and the Sullivan County Sheriff’s Department. The Sheriff can back me up on this, but my system begins with a detailed look at the status of a specific department and works up plans based on that department. Each department represented here is different, some by a lot and some only superficially, but there are differences. Before I could ever work up options for any department, I would need to sit down and review your current status, including your budgets, organization, manpower, and equipment.” In other words, don’t just take the Sullivan County package and slap your logo on it and think I’ll back it up. You want my work; you need to pay me.

Later that night I called Kelly and told her I’d be home Friday, but it might not be until dinner time instead of early afternoon. The next morning, I stopped at a Dunkin Donuts after breakfast and picked up a dozen doughnuts. When I got to the station, I found at least one other participant had done the same. As he said, “Hey, we’re cops. We can never have too many doughnuts!” Dom set us all up in a conference room and we started getting down to specifics. The council vote was scheduled for the following week and one of my top options was the favorite. Several other people showed a lot of interest, and one of the people who had been at the meeting and was there the next morning, was a captain in the Georgia State Patrol. His comment was that Georgia was interested in what was happening and at least wanted to know what everybody was thinking. Left unsaid was that they could be a force for good or for ill. They could grease the wheels or throw sand in the gears.

Chief Walsh, the female police chief from a city in one of the adjacent counties, asked an interesting question of the Statie captain. “What’s the state police going to say about combining forces?”

He shrugged. “Combining forces is always good. A lot’s going to depend on how you organize things.” He looked over at me, but I just looked back. I didn’t have any answers either.

Walsh looked over at me and asked, “Is something regional even doable?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Is it doable? Sure! We managed to get organized enough to defeat the Germans and the Japanese during World War II. I’m sure we can organize to do a better job being cops. The politics is something else, though, and something you’re going to have to look into on your own. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Please.”

“Listen, we just started the process here in Sullivan County. I suggest you talk it over with your bosses and see if we can’t do something to upgrade your local capabilities. At that point we can sit down and talk about some form of cooperation or regional coordination.” I was tied into the office’s WiFi and was able to print from my laptop. I printed out proposals to act as a consultant, much like how the deal with Sullivan County had started. Everybody glanced at them and put them in their briefcases. I traded business cards with everybody and promised to follow through next week on an individual basis. After that, the meeting broke up. I said goodbye and told Dom I’d call him next week as well. Then I left. I got home mid-afternoon, just in time to be told to clean up, we were going over to Kelly’s parents for pizza and wings. I kissed my wife and said, “What a wonderful welcome!”

She whispered in my ear, “The wonderful welcome comes later.”

“Works for me!”

We spent the weekend puttering around the house, doing chores and getting ready for the summer. We were still a couple of weeks away from Memorial Day, but the weather was getting warmer, and it was a good time to start prepping the boat and dock. We also needed to get this year’s fishing licenses. I had taught the kids to fish, though Seamus wasn’t as into it as his sister. She was more like me in that it was a good way to goof off and catch dinner at the same time. Seamus tended to think about it more.