Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give
And to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kind
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, so dark and dreary,
I knew I had found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.
I heard stories about them, I had to see more
So I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping silent alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.
His face so gentle, his room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?
His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,
I soon understood this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night
Owed their lives to these men who were willing to fight.
Soon ‘round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of soldiers like this one lying here.
I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
“Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my Corps.”
With that he rolled over and drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
I watched him for hours, so silent and still,
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
And I covered this Soldier from his toes to his head.
And I put on his T-shirt of gray and black,
With an eagle and an Army patch embroidered on back.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
And for a shining moment, I was United States Army deep inside.
I didn’t want to leave him on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, whispered with a voice so clean and pure,
“Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all is secure.”
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night!
LC James M. Schmidt, HQ Marine Corps, 1986
And the NAVAIR version… 🙂
‘Twas the night before Christmas, And out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, Not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened, To tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, They all would be there.
The fuel trucks were nestled, All snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty, At 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, Now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, Resting my butt.
When the radio lit up, With noise and chatter,
I turned up the scanner, To see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard, Over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land, At the airport below.
He barked his transmission, So lively and quick,
Couldn’t hear him too well, But think his call sign was “St.Nick”.
I ran to the panel, To turn up the lights,
The better to welcome, This magical flight.
He called his position, No room for denial,
“St. Nicholas One, Turnin’ left onto final.”
And then to my wondering eyes, There did suddenly appear,
A Rutan-built sleigh, With eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, Down the glide slope he came,
As he passed all fixes, He called them by name.
Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid! ” What pills was he takin’?
While controllers were sittin’, And scratchin’ their head,
They phoned to my office, And I heard it with dread.
The message they left, Was both urgent and dour:
“When Santa pulls in, Have him please call the tower.”
He landed like silk, With the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard “Left at Charlie,” And “Taxi to parking.”
He slowed to a taxi, Turned off of three-oh,
And stopped on the ramp, With a “Ho-Ho-Ho…”
He stepped out of the sleigh, But before he talks,
I ran out to meet him, With my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles, Were covered with frost,
And his beard was all blackened, From Reindeer exhaust.
His breath smelled like peppermint, Gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, But didn’t inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy, And jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black, As a cropduster’s belly.
He was chubby and plump, In his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to “fill it, With hundred low-lead.”
Then he came dashing in, From the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious, For drainin’ the sump.
I spoke not a word, But went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, But I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, And sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone, For a Flight Service brief.
And I thought as he silently, Scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land, In an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, From the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, And I heard him yell, “Clear!”
And laying a finger, On his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower, For clearance and squawk.
“Take taxiway Charlie, The southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero, At pilot’s discretion”
He sped down the runway, The best of the best,
“Your traffic’s a T-6, Inbound from the west”
Then I heard him proclaim, As he climbed thru the night,
“Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight.
And one serious one-
Christmas At Sea
The sea is cold, the night is dark… the blowing wind is crisp,
I stare across the ship’s huge deck… I did not get my wish.
I wanted so, to be at home… this year on Christmas Eve,
But this will be the year that I… did not get Christmas leave.
I stand and think about my family… gathered by the tree,
I know that one will say my name… and then they’ll think of me.
I am not there to share their joy… my country needs me here,
But I am not the only one… who won’t get home this year.
I miss my family but I am… on guard for my country,
Protecting those who can have Christmas… is my first duty.
Many men have given all… for us to have that right,
And I feel honored just to sacrifice… a Christmas night.
But still I’m feeling so alone… as many of us are,
As I just stand here on the deck… and watch a Christmas star.
I guess it is a Christmas star… it shines for all it’s worth,
And I think back to when a star… foretold His peace on earth.
If only people felt this calm… as on this Christmas Eve,
And not create hostilities… that make their brothers grieve.
Then we could have a peaceful world… as it was meant to be,
But until then we must stand guard… and this night it is me.
Once again my thoughts turn home… my family safe and sound,
Because this ship and other men… are ready to stand ground.
The Navy and the other branches… keep us safe and strong,
So those at home can celebrate… and sing their Christmas song.
But knowing that I must do this… I can’t hold back a tear,
Wishing I was home this Christmas… sharing in the cheer.
Seeing all my families faces… lights and Christmas trim,
Now the night is getting darker… as I think of them.
Trying now to fight this feeling… of such loneliness,
Softly speaking to myself… a lonely Christmas wish.
Actually my Christmas wish… is now a Christmas prayer,
Thank you for the men who serve… our country everywhere.
Thank you for our families… who enjoy this Christmas free,
Thank you for the other men… who serve this ship with me.
Thank you for allowing me… to make this sacrifice,
A joyous Christmas for our families… makes it worth the price.
May there be peace within you today.
May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our
Wings have trouble remembering how to fly.
As we approach Christmas, one makes choices…
How much can I afford to spend, and who do I buy things for?
What does that person want/need?
Are they old enough to appreciate the gift?
Do you buy for the parents or the kids? If so, do you check with the parents?
Can you actually GET the gift in time, or is it even legal in that location?
How do you corral the kids long enough to get the ^%*( gifts wrapped???
How do you integrate various family’s traditions?
How do you deal with those ‘inappropriate’ gifts? Like the three times regifted fruit cake?
Or the kids opening presents when your back is turned… Sigh…
I give up…
But sometimes, the looks are hilarious! A six foot plush toy for Kaya, who has NO idea what the hell has her surrounded… 🙂
Enjoy whatever traditions y’all have, do your best to keep your sanity, and remember- Tis the season… 🙂
Soooo… Made it to Kali safely, late arrival at PP’s house to be met by everybody including Vito…
Let the licking and leaning begin…
And then it was ‘throw the ball, throw the ball’…
And last night it was ‘hey, just because you’re holding Kaya, don’t mean I can’t lick’… I’d turned her around after I finally got her to release the death grip on my moustache and beard. Kid’s got a STRONG grip!!!
And tomorrow will be another ‘exciting’ day… And another pair of pants messed up… Sigh…
‘Somebody’ had WAY too much time on their hands…
‘Twas No Hope Before Christmas:
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when in the White House,
Not a creature was spinning, not even Josh Earnest’s mouth;
The pantsuits were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Hillary soon would live there;
Democrats were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of socialism danced in their heads,
And Barack in his mom jeans, and I with arm’s firm,
Had just settled down for my husband’s 3rd term;
When across the country there rose such a clatter,
I assumed it involved that Black Lives Matter;
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Kicked out the shutters, threw out Barry’s stash;
The moon illuminated our eight years of woe,
And exposed hope-and-change lies to our subject’s below;
When, what to my vacationing eyes should appear,
But the host of The Apprentice, looking quite cavalier;
I had seen that comb-over, he was tall and was plump,
I knew in a moment, it must be St. Trump;
More rapid than welfare checks, his people they came,
And he hired them, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now Reince, now Ivanka! Now Pencer and Bannon!
On, Mattis, on Sessions! On Kellyanne and Kanye!”
“To the Mexican border! Let’s go build that wall!
Now get to work, get to work, get to work, all!”
As empty promises my husband made that never would fly,
I knew that Obamacare would soon have to die;
The electoral college had spoken, we’d been given the bump,
The free ride was over, thanks a lot, Mr. Trump;
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
My husband’s legacy, gone in a poof!
As I filled with dread, turned my hopeless self around,
Down the chimney St. Trump came with a bound;
He was dressed in a suit, from his head to his feet,
I was expecting a racist, but he was wearing no sheet;
A bunch of red caps he had in a sack,
They said “Make America Great Again,” I felt under attack!
His eyes – how they chilled me, his demeanor how scary,
His skin was so orange, his gaze made we wary;
He was going to erase the last eight years, I swear!
And the one’s who elected him were as white as Pence hair;
My school lunch program would be a thing of the past,
Like the food I made them eat, it would end up in the trash;
He would cancel regulations my husband held dear,
I could feel myself being overcome with fear;
We’d worked so hard to bring America down,
Our hope and change would be killed by this clown;
He represented all the hate for the right that I felt,
And I peed my pants when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye, and a look that said, “You’re effed”
Put me on notice, we had just one month left
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his fracking,
Then he turned to me and said, “Shouldn’t you be packing?”
And laying his finger aside of his nose
Giving me a ‘go to hell’ look, up the chimney he rose;
He sprung to his limo, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a Hillary-seeking missile;
Then I said to Barack, as I climbed back in bed,
“Hopeless Christmas to all, and to all…….whatever.”
Don’t know who gets credit for this, but it’s on the mark!
h/t JP
It’s that time of year, so I’m once again braving the ‘friendly’ skies… Sigh…
Heading out to see the kids and grands for Christmas. Blogging and commenting will be light for the next week, but I’ll get something up when I can.
Please go read the folks on the sidebar, they’re better at this than I am. Just went over 77k words on the rough of Rimworld novel, so I’m getting there…
If you’re taking off early too, I wish you a Merry Christmas or celebration of your choice. 🙂
The Electoral College will be meeting today- It should be interesting to follow this as the day goes on…
And then there is this on the funding/people behind the vote Clinton campaign.
Well, well, well… Look what crawls out of the dark when one follows the money…
The public relations firm working behind the scenes with the faithless electors is rife with ties to prominent Democrats like President Obama and twice-failed presidential candidate Hillary Clinton.
Megaphone Strategies, whose stated mission is to “use PR as a tool to diversify progressive movements,” typically works with progressive causes like Black Lives Matter. The firm is representing the handful of “faithless electors” trying to keep President-elect Donald Trump from winning the Electoral College vote.
The firm was co-founded by Van Jones, the former green jobs czar in the Obama White House who later resigned after it was revealed he signed a statement questioning whether the Bush administration had a role in the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. Jones now works as a CNN commentator.
Full article HERE, at The Daily Caller. The more one digs, the more often one finds Soros money behind all these ‘shadow’ organizations that seem to scurry from the light anytime people start digging…
Between Soros and Bloomie, they seem to fund about 90% of the opposition, one way or the other… It will be interesting to see how Trump handles these once he gets in office…
Also, there are these comments, apparently from BO at a speech in Tampa at McDill in early Dec…
Characterizing the military’s mission as a fight against “violent extremism,” Obama insisted that soldiers need to rise up against Trump if they feel he is pushing policies that are ill considered.
Obama told the troops, “each of us has…the universal right to speak your minds and to protest against authority; to live in a society that’s open and free; that can criticize our president without retribution.”
Soooo… Is he telling the troops to violate UCMJ here? Art 88 Contempt toward officials???
Obama went on to insist that a proper U.S. policy against “violent extremism” is a “long term” policy.
“So rather than offer false promises that we can eliminate terrorism by dropping more bombs or deploying more and more troops or fencing ourselves off from the rest of the world,” Obama said, “we have to take a long view of the terrorist threat. And we have to pursue a smart strategy that can be sustained. In the time remaining, let me just suggest what I think should guide this approach.”
Oh, and he apparently also blamed Bush for ISIS/ISIL… sigh…
ONE THE HARD WAY – Dan Zoernig
Christmas Day, 1941. American Volunteer Group Flight Leader Parker Dupouy finds his guns jammed during combat high over the Gulf of Martaban. Determined to bring down his adversary, he rams the Hayabusa Oscar of Lt. Hiroshi Okuyama of the JAAF 64th Sentai. Though he lost four feet of his wingtip and his entire aileron, Dupouy made it back to his base to fight another day. Lt. Okuyama’s aircraft, however, broke up in flight and carried him to his death. Dupouy went on to score 6.5 victories in the air before war’s end.
Below you ‘ll find the NRA’s statement on Secretary Designate Zinke, who has been chosen to head the Department of the Interior under the Trump administration. Zinke is a retired SEAL, so he ‘does’ have an affinity for the outdoors and for shooting. 🙂
Considering what’s been going on with funding for new ranges, I’m liking his selection!
| NRA Statement on Nomination of Ryan Zinke to Secretary of the Interior | |
| Fairfax, Va.— Chris W. Cox, executive director of the National Rifle Association’s Institute for Legislative Action, issued the following statement on the nomination of Congressman Ryan Zinke to be the Secretary of the Interior:“On behalf of our 5 million members, we commend President-Elect Donald Trump for nominating Congressman Ryan Zinke of Montana to be our next Secretary of the Interior,” said Chris W. Cox, executive director of the National Rifle Association’s Institute for Legislative Action. “The sportsmen and women of this nation have long waited for an Interior Secretary who understands the need to preserve America’s outdoor heritage for generations to come. Ryan Zinke will champion those traditions with the devotion of a true outdoorsman while serving as our next Secretary of the Interior.” |
h/t Lars/NRA Media
Thank you to all who’ve parted with their hard earned money to buy the series. I’m truly humbled and appreciative! I’m up to 45 reviews on The Grey Man- Partners, still looking to get over that magic 50 reviews hump. Once that happens, then Amazon starts pushing it a bit more. Vignettes is over the 100 mark, Payback is at 89, and Changes is at 68. 100 reviews is the next milestone, but I’m happy to have the reviews I have.
It seems that the ‘average’ of reviews vs readers is in the 4-6% range, which is about what is expected. Having said that, I’d still like to get over the 50 reviews hump with Partners, so consider this a bleg… 🙂
In other news, thanks to those readers who’ve whined, threatened, sent harassing emails, expressed interest, I’ve started working on the fifth book in the three book Grey Man series. It’s WAY early yet, but here’s a tease… They usual caveats apply…
Dressing for the Occasion
Aaron came out of the bedroom stretching his neck in the unaccustomed suit and tie. As he walked into the kitchen, the old man asked, “What the hell are you doing?”
Aaron stopped short, “Uh, I’ve got to go to court today, I’m testifying. Remember I told you last night.”
“Not dressed like that you aren’t. Get that damn monkey suit off. Jeans and a pressed white shirt. BBQ belt, holster and gun. Get your good Silverbelly. Now vamoose.”
Aaron said, “Can I at least get a cup of coffee first?”
The old man chuckled, “I guess so. And I guess we need to have a chat about dressing for court.”
Fifteen minutes later, Aaron was back, and the old man looked him up and down critically, “Need to run a brush over the boots. A cowboy may only have one pair of boots, and they may be run down, but he’ll do his damnest to put a shine on them.”
Aaron retreated once again, and ten more minutes went by before he reappeared, “How’s this,” he asked.
“That’ll do,” the old man replied. “Now sit down and drink your coffee.”
Aaron filled his cup and took a seat at the table as Jesse came in drowsily carrying Kaya in her arms. Jesse plopped her in the old man’s arms and mumbled as she headed for the coffee pot. Aaron asked, “Why the jeans? When we went through testifying class in the academy, they specified being well dressed and professional looking. To me, that’s a suit.”
The old man sighed, “That’s typical of the HPD mentality. They aren’t in cow country. They’re in an urban environment. Hell, Austin and Dallas are the same way, but anywhere else in Texas, you go in wearing a suit and the jury is gonna be against you.”
Jesse flopped down across from Aaron, “Banker’s, right Papa?”
“Yep, anybody that looks like a banker is gonna remind those jurors of the damn bankers that took their pappy or grandpappy’s land back in the day. That is the wrong foot to get off on with any jury.”
“What about the lawyers?”
The old man chuckled, “Always wanted to get defense lawyers that dressed like that. Guaranteed the jury would hate them for cross-examining us poor ol’ hardworking deputies.”
Aaron said, “But Attorney Randall dresses well, right?”
The old man laughed this time, “Nan Randall dresses only well enough to be seen as a hard working county attorney. She doesn’t wear fancy dresses here, matter of fact, she gets them off the rack at the local department store. That way, if there are women on the jury, they’ll recognize that dress. Hell, they might even have that dress in their closet. Makes ‘em comfortable with her, knowing she’s not putting on airs.”
“Jeezus… What else did I get taught that was wrong?”
Jesse patted his hand and laughed, “Probably half the stuff. Urban versus rural. HPD does all urban, leaving us poor rural deputies to learn the hard way.”
Jace wandered into the kitchen rubbing his eyes, “Daddy you go work?”
Aaron tousled his hair, “Yes, Jace. Daddy is going to work.”
Jace ran his hand over the butt of the 1911 on Aaron’s belt, “Daddy wearing pretty gun today.”
The old man coughed to cover a laugh as Jesse said, “Jace, come here. You want breakfast? And what do you do if you see a gun laying out?”
Jace smiled, “No touch, tell a big person. Can I have cereal? With choco… Chocolate milk? Please?”
Jesse said, “That’s right. No touch and tell an adult. Are guns in this house loaded,” she asked as she got up to fix him a bowl of cereal.
Jace nodded solemnly, “Guns are always loaded. Especially the ones hanging on the wall. They make a loud noise!”
Jesse smiled at him, “Yes they do, don’t they! What are you supposed to do before you eat?”
Jace stood hands on hips, prompting another cough from the old man and a chuckle from Aaron, “Oh, I gotta feed Yogi and Boo Boo!” He scrambled across the kitchen, then came back for the bowls, carrying them to the dog food bin by the back door, closely followed by the dogs.
Filling them carefully, he tried to carry both of them back, but finally carried one at a time, sitting them in place next to the water dishes as the dogs whined, “Eat doggies,” Jace said proudly.
Aaron smiled at him, “Good job buddy!” Now you can eat too!”
Kaya took that as a challenge to start crying, prompting the old man to look at her, “Hey now, I’m not your mommy. You want food, go talk to her.” He set her down at watched her toddle toward Jesse, “Incoming.”
Jessie looked down, “Okay baby, give me a couple of minutes.” Kaya reached Jesse and started trying to climb her sweatpants, almost pulling them off. Jesse swatted her lightly, “Hey, mommy is not doing the strip tease here. Aaron?”
Aaron picked up Kaya, planted her in her high chair and thought, I wonder how old this high chair is? I know Jesse used it, I wonder if it was John’s too. There are a lot of pieces of furniture in these houses that are at least a hundred years old. Real wood and handmade. Hell, other than the appliances, I think the newest things in here are our bedroom suite.
With the kids fed, Jesse took them back to their room to get them dressed as Aaron got up, “Time to go do battle.”
He heard a whistle as the old man started to answer, turned and saw Matt come in the back door, “Don’t you look purty today! All dressed up and no place to go?”
Aaron replied, “Gotta go over to Alpine, testifying on that chase that started just south of town and ended up crashing at sixty-seven and ninety.”
The old man chimed in, “Remember, follow Clay’s advice, make sure you get with him before you go in. They’ll call you first, since you initiated it. Just give them the facts as you knew them at the time. Do not add any of the after the fact, at that point you were just an assist.”
Aaron nodded, “I’ll call Clay as soon as I get close to Alpine.” Aaron headed for the door, “Y’all have fun.”
Jesse came back with the kids dressed to find the old man and Matt poring over a topo map of the ranch, with Matt flipping an acetate overlay up and down, “See, if we do that, it’s six miles to eleven seventy-six, so we’re good in that direction.”
The old man pointed to a couple of tracks that ran between Hwy 18 and 1178, “What about these?”
I’ve talked to Halverson and Zapata, they don’t use them, matter of fact,” tracing one of the tracks, “Halverson has blocked this one at his ranch entrance.”
Jesse asked curiously, ‘What are y’all planning?”
Matt replied, “We’re looking at putting in a range on the south forty. We can get all the way out to a thousand yards right here,” pointing at the acrylic overlay, “It’s thirteen hundred, almost fourteen hundred yards deep. Doesn’t impact any wells or fields that are in use for anything. It’s pretty much mesquite, which needs to be grubbed out anyway.”
The old man nodded, “Okay, I’ll buy that. What else are you planning?”
Matt pulled another sheet from under the topo map pointing, “Well, we figured we could do a pistol range here, a hundred yard berm here, three hundred here, six hundred out here and a thousand all the way at the end.”
The old man shrugged, “Okay, if that’s what y’all want, go ahead.”
***
Aaron pulled into the diner in Alpine, saw Clay Boone’s unmarked car and parked next to it. Feeling a bit self-conscious, he walked into the diner and saw Clay waving from a booth at the back of the diner. “Morning, Ranger. Mr. Cronin said to make sure I talked to you.”
Clay stuck out a hand, “Sit, Aaron, sit. Yeah, just want to make sure you know what to expect this morning. Coffee?”
Aaron nodded and Clay waved his coffee cup at the waitress and pointed to Aaron, “Angie, another one please.”
Aaron slid into the booth and chuckled, “Normally, I try to sit facing the door, but I guess I’m out ranked aren’t I?”
Clay laughed, “Yep, John is worse than I am about it. Now the court down here is basically the same as Fort Stockton, but it’s Judge Cameron down here. He’s by the book, doesn’t like a bunch of BS in his courtroom and he’s already pissed off at this case and the defendant, not that he’ll ever admit that, but I’ve known him for thirty years. The change of venue motion didn’t go over well, nor did that highfalutin’ lawyer from Houston.”
Angie delivered Aaron’s coffee and refilled Clay’s, “Honey you want anything to eat?”
“No, ma’am. I had breakfast this morning, just coffee.”
She smiled and sauntered back to the counter, pouring refills as she went. Clay detailed the expectations for the trial, including the fact that even though the chase had started in Pecos County, it ended in Brewster County with the perp hitting the Brewster County patrol car, then rolling his brand new Challenger three times out in the field. He cautioned Aaron about letting the defense attorney try to get Aaron to say anything about what happened after the wreck, including the drugs Deputy Ortiz had found after Aaron called for backup after seeing the package thrown from the Challenger. Luckily, it had been caught on video with a road sign in the video allowing pinpointing exactly where it had been thrown out.
Clay stopped and sipped his coffee and Aaron asked, “So just to confirm, all I talk to is start of the pursuit to the wreck, nothing after. I know when they deposed me they wanted a copy of my wheel book, but they only got the pages with the notes for this chase, broken down by timeline.”
Clay nodded, “Remember to ask for a copy of your deposition to refer to. Don’t let them catch you out. I’ll guarantee they’re going to try.” Clay looked at his watch, “We better go. Ain’t no point in being late and pissing the judge off any more than he already is. I got the coffee, you get the tip.”
They got up and Aaron dropped two dollars on the table, tipping his hat to Angie as the headed for the door.
***
Thirty minutes into his testimony and cross examination, Mr. Klapp, the prosecutor wearily got up, “Objection again your honor, Deputy Miller was not involved in the subsequent arrest of Mr. Holmes that was conducted by Brewster County personnel.”
Judge Cameron rapped his gavel, “Sustained. Mr. Maginault, I’ve told you three times to keep your questioning relevant. Am I not getting through to you?”
Maginault, the lawyer hired by Holmes parents, didn’t even look at the judge, “No further questions.” He sat carefully back down, straightening his Armani jacket and smoothing his styled hair in what Aaron had determined was a nervous tic.
“Prosecution calls Deputy Grayson.”
Aaron returned to his seat in the back of the courtroom, next to Sheriff Rodriquez as they waited for Deputy Ortiz and Ranger Boone to testify. The sheriff gave him a thumbs up and leaned over, “Fun ain’t it, Amigo.”
Aaron said softly, “Yeah, ‘bout as much fun as a surprise inspection in the Corps. Glad that’s over.” He zoned out on Grayson’s testimony, just remembering the flashing blue and red lights of the roadblock, the Challenger’s frantic braking, hitting the front of the cruiser and rolling out into the field.