Glenn Beck - The Overton Window

“Charlie-”

“Correction. You stay quiet and let me talk to you.”

They sat, with Noah taking a chair that preserved his view to the

hall.

“I don’t know what you did or didn’t do,” Charlie said, “and I don’t want to know. What matters is what they could charge you with, which is putting your hands on a cop while he’s doing his duty, and that’s a first-degree felony in this state. Look at me. If you did that, in the eyes of the law it doesn’t matter why you did it-self-defense, heat of the moment, temporary insanity, doesn’t matter-conviction is a virtual certainty.

“Now, I called in some major favors, and they still wanted to charge you with something less egregious, simple assault, disorderly conduct, whatever. Then I called in some more favors and we worked that out, too. You’re going to walk out of here tonight like this never happened.”

“Listen to me for a second-”

“This is a big deal, Noah. And I’ll tell you something else: this is it. I spent all your get-out-of-jail-free cards tonight. Until further notice if you so much as jaywalk, miss a trash can with a gum wrapper, or play your car stereo too loud, and any of these guys get wind of it? Forget about it. Starting now, if you step out of line below Thirty-fourth Street there won’t be much I can do for you.”

“I understand, and thank you. Can I say something now?”

Charlie checked his watch. “Go ahead.”

“This whole thing was a setup.”

“I don’t care.”

“Those guys, right out there”-Noah pointed through the glass, and Charlie looked briefly in that direction-“they were at this meeting tonight, where all this happened, and they were there specifically to start something. When they got tired of waiting for the people to get violent they did it themselves.”

“Let me see if I understand you. You’re saying that you think an undercover New York City police officer discharged his weapon in a crowded bar to incite this whole incident?”

“Yes.”

“No way. Absolutely not.”

“Okay, not a cop, then. I didn’t see any badges on the men who burst into that place, maybe they were… I don’t know, contractors, hired security men who did the dirty work and then turned us all over to the NYPD-”

“Noah,” Charlie said. His voice was patient but firm. “Calm down. Whatever really happened, none of this matters to you.”

“How can you say that? That guy right there, the one with the visitor’s badge and the holster under his vest, that’s the guy who fired the shots that started all this! Then the men in riot gear came busting in immediately, there was no call to nine-one-one, no delay, they were right there waiting outside the door. And the press-all those reporters were already here outside the station; how would they have known-”

“Okay, so it was a setup. And what do you think we can do about that, you and I? Who are you now, Nelson Mandela? News flash, son: there’s no Santa Claus, no Easter Bunny, and no Legal Fairy who cares about what you think you saw. Injustice exists in this world, and while you’re lucky enough to be insulated from the worst of it, most people aren’t.” He patted Noah on the arm. “Your righteous indignation is noted and filed. Now come on, let’s go count our blessings and get a slice of pie, somewhere uptown.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I’m sorry… what?”

“Not without everybody else who was brought in with me.”

Charlie didn’t respond right away.

“You’re sure about what you saw,” he said at last.

“Positive.”

“Because if I open this can of worms again and I come up empty-handed? There’s a good chance we’re going to blow this deal I just made.”

“Charlie, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” the lawyer said quietly. “Let me look into it and I’ll see what I can do. But I’ll tell you right now, whatever I find out, this is going to take a lot more chips than I’ve got in my pocket. That means I’ll have to call your dad.”

That wasn’t welcome news, but Noah took a deep breath and nodded his permission.

He’d kept calm as he walked down the last long hallway toward the exit of the First Precinct, but as Noah finally stepped out onto the sidewalk his heart began to work so hard he could nearly see it pounding beneath his borrowed shirt.

Injustice exists, Charlie had said, and for that fact his young client was now profoundly thankful. If it had been an abuse of power that put him in jail for most of the night, then it was surely a second abuse that had coerced the authorities to let him go. But, however it was won, it was still freedom, and maybe for the first time he fully understood the meaning of that word.

According to Charlie, after he’d started digging, a group of cops had eventually come forward to corroborate Noah’s version of the evening’s events: they’d apparently wanted to play no part in the railroading of this harmless group of like-minded citizens. Just as a minor rebellion was threatening to break out between the actual uniformed officers and the contract security forces who’d been working the scene, a phone call had come in from some high echelon, and right away everything was abruptly and quietly settled.

Noah stopped near the street, suddenly spent and unsteady, and leaned against a lamppost for support. He took in a deep breath of the cold, sobering night air, right through a thin dagger of pain that jabbed hard between his ribs. It hurt, but not as though anything was permanently damaged in there; bent for sure, but not broken.

All the others had begun filtering out behind him, checking their watches, counting and pocketing their returned personal effects, everyone looking thoroughly relieved and happy and hardly any the worse for wear. The out-of-towners were scanning the urban horizon for landmarks as though they’d been airdropped into the darkest corner of Borneo without a compass. But one by one they helped each other, and before long most of them seemed to have gone their separate ways to sleep off the evening’s adventure, safe and sound in their own rooms instead of a prison cell.

Noah was surprised by how different things appeared outside. Hours ago it had been stormy, bleak, and miserable, but now the sky was clearing with the soft lights of the predawn metropolis outshining all but the brightest stars.

Something lightly brushed his arm and the contact shook him out of his reflections. As he turned to see who’d touched him he found himself needing to look up to make eye contact.

“Just wanted to say my thank-you,” Hollis said. If he’d still had his hat he would have been clutching it shyly in his hands.

“Hey, don’t mention it.”

“No, no.” Hollis shook his head solemnly. “I’m in your debt.”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Noah said. “Tell me what time it is and we’ll call it even.”

The big man looked up and seemed to take a bearing on a number of celestial bodies before ciphering a moment. “I’d say she’s nigh onto half-past four in the morning, give or take some.”

“Four-thirty. Should I assume that’s Mountain Time?”

Hollis smiled politely, as though a good friend had made a joke that wasn’t very funny. “Good night, now,” he said.

“Take care.”

Up the street a few blocks Noah saw his car round the corner. He raised a hand to make himself known to the driver and watched the Mercedes blink its brights and signal toward the curb.

Noah took a step toward the car, but stopped when he heard familiar voices behind him. He turned to see Molly and her mother saying goodbye to the last of their departing compatriots. The two of them had apparently stayed back to make sure everyone made it out to the street. When they saw him standing there Molly whispered something in her mom’s ear and they walked up to him together.