Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

—BREAKING NEWS—Possible prison riot at Attica Correctional Facility in western New York State. More details to follow…

—BREAKING NEWS—Numerous National Guard units activated to quell chaos.

The governor of Illinois has activated the National Guard for the greater Chicago area . We have unconfirmed reports that the governor issued a shoot-to-kill order to curtail widespread looting . More details to follow…

—BREAKING NEWS—Massive explosion at army munitions depot in McAlester, Oklahoma. Damage extends nearly one mile from plant.

Sources tell the Daily News the bomb that exploded at the McAlester depot was a GBU-43/B Massive Ordnance Air Blast (MOAB) bomb. Used recently in the war in Afghanistan, the bomb is better known as the Mother of All Bombs. The MOAB is the largest nonnuclear weapon in the American arsenal. More details to follow…

Attica

The gate to the cellblock being closed and then opened has Captain Scott Butler rethinking his strategy. Although heavily armed, his force of nearly a hundred men, including the state troopers, is severely outnumbered. Yes, some of the inmates would die if they tried to ambush Butler and his troops, but they wouldn’t get them all before being overwhelmed. Butler makes a radio call to Lieutenant Gary Clark, who’s leading the second team toward cellblock C.

“Clark here, sir.”

“Hold your position.”

“Roger, Captain.”

Butler pauses to allow Clark time to pass on his order before saying, “Gary, was the gate to cellblock C open or closed when you got there?”

“It was open, Cap.”

“Okay. Gary, you need to maintain situational awareness at all times.”

“We are, sir. I have guards posted around our perimeter.”

“Good. I’ll be back to you in a minute. Butler out.” He tosses the radio handset over his shoulder, thinking. He turns, spots Corrections Officer Art Robinson, and waves him over. When he arrives, Butler says, “Art, do all the guards carry radios and keys?”

“Radios, yes. But not everyone carries keys. The cells are opened and closed electronically, and those working the blocks don’t carry anything that could be used as a weapon.”

“Thank you, Art. Next question. If the inmates were planning an ambush where would they do it?”

Robinson thinks about the question for a moment. “Probably in the transitions between cell blocks, the mess hall, the entrance to the tunnels, or the area around Times Square—the place where all four tunnels interconnect. They could hide down one tunnel and hit you when you funnel into the choke point. In fact, that might be the most logical place to do it.”

“I think you may be right, Art. Thanks for your help.”

Butler unclips the prison radio from his belt and looks at it for a moment, debating his next step. He puts the radio to his lips and presses the transmit button. “Captain Butler to Officer Darnell.”

A couple of seconds later, Darnell answers.

Knowing now that some of the prisoners are most likely listening in, Butler has to be extremely careful or he’ll be putting her life in jeopardy. He changes his mind and says, “Sit tight for now.”

“Roger, Captain,” Darnell replies, confusion in her voice.

Butler turns back to Robinson. “If Darnell is inside Times Square, can she see down all four corridors?”

“No, sir. She can only see down two of the corridors and the entrances to the other two.”

“Thanks.” Robinson turns to leave and Butler squats down and leans back against the wall, considering all of his options—none of them good. After several moments, he glances up and calls over Lieutenant Fred Parker, a social worker by trade. A tall, barrel-chested African American, Parker slings his rifle and walks over as Butler slides up the wall to his feet. “Freddy, you work out complicated social situations all day long. Do you think you could reach out to the inmates over the radio and convince some of them to turn themselves in?”

“I can try, Scott, but they’re going to want some type of reassurances or concessions.”

“I can guarantee you the governor is not going to offer them squat. Surely some of them don’t like what’s happened in here.” Butler kicks at something on the floor with the toe of his boot then looks back up. “Hell, Freddy, they can’t all be bad men.”

Parker takes the radio from Butler and spends a moment gathering his thoughts. Butler makes a radio call to Lieutenant Clark and passes on the plan.

When Parker is ready, he places the radio to his lips and announces his name and position before beginning his plea. “I know some of you don’t like or approve of what has happened today. It’s not our place to judge you or your actions. Our only job is to secure this facility. If you surrender you will be treated with respect and will be afforded due process under the laws of the state of New York. We have troops stationed at the entrances to cellblocks A and C. Surrender with your hands in the air and I will guarantee your safety.” Parker pauses and looks at Butler, who gives him the nod to continue.

Parker, having given them the carrot, now offers the stick. “For those of you who refuse to surrender, there are zero guarantees concerning your survival. We will find you. Whether you live or die will depend on the decisions you make. But, to be honest with you, I don’t like your odds. We will offer no warnings. We will offer no pleas. And, just to make my point clear, we are authorized to shoot to kill.” Parker pauses to let that thought sink in then says, “Men, the ball is now in your court.” Parker hands the radio back to Butler.

“Well done, Freddy,” Butler says. “Now we wait.”

But they don’t have to wait long. Prisoners, their hands in the air, begin streaming into the corridor. Butler orders two squads to search the prisoners as they arrive. “And make sure you find all the damn keys,” he tells them. Now Butler has to find a place to put them. With no power the cell doors are inoperable. He asks Art Robinson, and Robinson suggests the school. Butler relays that information to the team over at cellblock C and orders them to do a head count.

As the prisoners are searched, Butler takes to the radio again, talking to Major Pierce, who is outside the prison walls. “Major, have your troopers escort some of the prison personnel inside so we can start identifying these men.” He passes on the details of where to take them and asks Pierce to round up some coffee. Butler, who started drilling teeth at eight this morning, is running on fumes with a long night still ahead of them.

It’s pushing midnight by the time they finish searching and identifying those prisoners who surrendered. Every member of Butler’s team is hungry and exhausted, but they still have work to do. Some of the prison staff brewed several large pots of coffee in the administration building and that’s helping. But Butler needs his men clear-eyed and focused. He steps over to the coffeepot and pours another cup as the warden, Albert Diaz, approaches.

“Captain,” Diaz says, “we have a somewhat accurate head count.”

“How bad is it?” Butler asks.

“We have no way of knowing how many inmates have been killed in other parts of the prison, but we have two hundred and eleven inmates unaccounted for,” Diaz says.

Butler sighs and sets his coffee cup on the table. “Okay. We need to root them out.”

Diaz holds up a finger. “One more thing, Captain. Ninety-eight of those missing inmates are from the SHU.”

“What the hell is a SHU?”

“It’s our Special Housing Unit. It’s the place where we house the troublemakers and our most violent inmates in solitary confinement.”