Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Stronghold

As he waited for the meeting to start, Grant could feel that the intensity was building up at each meeting. Each day, there were more and more political issues, like persuading the community to accept ideas such as the jail and judge. Grant could sense that each day, his opponents, guys like Snelling, were caucusing among themselves and coming up with reasons to oppose him and Rich and everyone else.

Grant, who was normally a polite and diplomatic guy, knew that he needed to have an edge in these meetings. The residents were looking for a leader; a passionate and even forceful person to follow. However, “forceful” could be taken too far; the residents were rightly afraid of a dictator or a hothead taking over. Therefore, passion needed to be tempered with reason and logic, and even humor when possible. Sharp words, calmly spoken, were how to win this fight.

And it was a fight. Pierce Point could easily become a jumbled homeowners’ association of weak and indecisive committees that couldn’t agree on having guards, and therefore, inadvertently, letting criminals walk right in. Grant imagined that was exactly what was occurring at his old neighborhood in Olympia, the Cedars.

The Grange meetings were serious business. Politics—persuading people to do the right thing—could very easily be a matter of life and death. Politics can get whole communities killed just as easy as bullets. In fact, often the bullets kill a community because politics broke down. That was certainly true of the former United States, or “FUSA,” as everyone was starting to call it. People quit doing the right thing, and things broke down. The bullets flew. Pierce Point was a mini version of America. They would either do the right thing out there, which was following the Constitution and being decent to each other, or they would break down and the looters would walk in and slaughter everyone. Politics was serious business.

People were filing into the meeting; mostly familiar faces, but some new ones. It seemed like more and more people were venturing out of their homes and finding rides to the Grange to see what was going on.

This was good and a challenge at the same time. It was good that people were viewing the Grange meetings as the place where community decisions were made. It was a challenge because it meant more people with different viewpoints who needed to be persuaded. Not bossed around—that didn’t work—but persuaded. In a larger crowd, there would be more Loyalists. Oh well. That’s the job Grant had been given and he would do his best.

The first order of business was Mrs. Roth’s funeral. Rich introduced Pastor Pete. They discussed the funeral and picked a date for it, which would be the next day at 10:00 a.m. Without embalming fluid, sooner was better than later. The group agreed to Pastor Pete’s idea for a cemetery. It would be the vacant lot overlooking the water. Grant silently wondered if it would be big enough. He imagined that there would be plenty more people dying soon, but he didn’t want to say that out loud. He suspected others were thinking the same thing, however.

It was good that the community was working together on a governance issue like a cemetery. This was one of the first tests for the group, and it was going well. The next test that night would be the church services. Would that divide people?

Pastor Pete asked if the community wanted regular church services. They did. Some asked what kind of church. Pastor Pete described it as non-denominational. “I know that we have people of many, many different denominations out there. There are plenty of things we all agree on. That’s what the services will be about. Anyone can talk to me at any time about this and I will make sure to listen. I want people at church, not to drive them away.”

Dan described how Pastor Pete would also be the chaplain of the guards and beach patrol. Pastor Pete added that he would be happy to counsel people and would officiate at funerals and—he said with a smile—“hopefully weddings, too.” Many people in the crowd said they weren’t exactly “church people,” but were looking forward to attending on Sunday.

Rich then motioned for Grant to come up. Rich whispered, “Should we tell them our idea for the jail and judge?”

Grant whispered back, “Might as well.”

Rich said to the audience, “OK, we have a proposal for you on a vital community matter. A jail and a judge. We have been very fortunate over the past few days to not have any crime, at least, that has been reported to us. That will change. While people protecting their homes and property is the main defense against crime, the guards and Team will likely be catching people, and the question is what to do with them.”

“Shoot ‘em!” someone yelled out. Some people laughed.

Rich didn’t laugh. “That’s not going to work for some things, like small thefts,” Rich said. “I don’t want to live in a place where a kid stealing a can of gas gets executed for it.” The crowd was quiet. The “shoot ‘em!” guy probably felt a little embarrassed.

Rich continued, “But, on the other side of the spectrum, I don’t think we want all the bells and whistles of the current…I mean former legal system. It was pretty good at letting criminals go over and over again.” Rich let that sink in. He wanted there to be a little “shoot ‘em!” sentiment in the crowd, just not too much.

“So,” Rich said, “we have a proposal to have a simple—simple—set of laws out here. Stealing small amounts, and we’ll define those and open it up for debate, would result in jail time. Probably a shorter jail time. Everyone in the community would know who the thief was, which is fine if it means a safer community. Stealing larger amounts would result in more jail time. People in jail would work, of course. We don’t want to give them an incentive to sit in jail and get free food. The community would need to feed them, so they’ll need to work for their meals.”

“Feed them?” someone yelled out.

Rich snapped back, “Yes. Feed them. We’re not animals. We need to come out of this with our humanity intact. If we start shooting each other over little things, we might as well be living in Frederickson or Olympia or, God forbid, Seattle. Anyone who wants that is free to go.”

It was silent. Grant thought that only a respected former law enforcement officer like Rich could have the credibility with the crowd to say this. Grant thanked God that Rich was there.

“Now, for serious crimes, like rape and murder,” Rich said, “well, we will shoot ‘em.” That got some applause from the crowd. “Maybe hang them. We can decide that. I’m leaning toward hanging. It makes much more of a statement than shooting.” More applause. Everyone in that meeting was afraid of rampant crime. They were afraid that the old way of preventing crime—formal police and courts—was over with. They craved a new solution to this problem.

Rich motioned for Grant to come up to the front of the room. “Grant here, who was a lawyer,” it was funny to hear that in the past tense but it was true, “has some ideas on how to do all this. Don’t hate him because he was a lawyer,” Rich said with a smile. Rich wasn’t just cracking a joke; he was communicating something important: you may hate lawyers, but you need one now and this one isn’t a piece of crap like most are.

Grant knew this was an important presentation. There was a lot at stake. He got up to the podium and started off, surprised by the wave of calm he felt in himself. He was strangely confident. He was going to nail this.

“My basic plan,” Grant said, “is, one, simplicity, two, the Constitution—the real Constitution, not all the made up stuff they’ve come up with lately—and, three, transparency. Here’s what I mean,” he said pointing one finger up to show the number one.