The interview with Donald Trump was brief, and Univision cut back to a scene from the main studio where a commentator was discussing the ongoing protests with a panel of experts. They returned to the street with a live shot of the D-8 tractor moving through the crowded protest line.
What are those?" Maria asked. "Behind the tractor?"
Juan’s eyes scanned for a fraction of a second before landing on a convoy of four of the largest military trucks he’d ever seen. They looked angry and evil, and the turrets and gun ports bristled with rifle barrels. “I don't know.”
The news reporter filled them in on the details. "MRAP stands for Mine-Resistant Ambush Protection vehicle," he said. “I've covered three different wars overseas, but I never thought I see those used on US streets. They're war machines.”
A sound like firecrackers erupted. The protestors were shooting fireworks and setting off smoke grenades.
Juan cursed, “Idiots! Those protestors are gonna get somebody killed."
As the tractor drew closer to the crowd, one protestor stepped forward and held his hands out dramatically to stop its advance.
From his living room sofa, Juan couldn't help yelling, "Stop! Get out of the way!"
Over the live TV feed, you could hear a loud popping sound, and see blood splash across the D-8’s windshield. The driver released the throttle as he died, and the D-8 ground to a halt.
Juan leaned forward to get a better view as an unrestrained gunfight broke out between the armed protestors and the marksmen in the armored vehicles on live TV. He saw a beautiful young woman, about his daughter's age, with a fierce look of righteous anger and determination glowing from some great inner fire.
In the next instant, that fire was extinguished.
When a person gets shot, it doesn’t look like anything in the movies. They crumple and collapse into a lifeless heap with no fanfare or outward mark of their passing. Simply here one moment …and then gone.
Juan and Maria both jumped back in horror.
The cameras switched back to the live feeds from the circling helicopters. The helicopter cameras could not hear what was happening below, so Univision switched to a split screen, with the protestors displayed silently on one side while an address from Katie Hobbs, the Governor of Arizona, played on the other.
Governor Hobbs came on the air to make an announcement, “Today, I address a situation that demands swift and decisive action. For more than three weeks, an illegal encampment of protestors has been occupying the Tempe Beach Park and disrupting essential traffic across the Tempe Bridge, Mill Avenue Bridge, and Tempe Town Lake Railroad Bridge, which all cross the nearby Salt River.
“Therefore,” continued Hobbs, “I have authorized the deployment of National Guard troops to swiftly and safely disperse these unlawful gatherings.”
An extreme close-up panned to the fallen civilian. Someone was there next to him, rocking back and forth, weeping as he cradled the corpse.
Juan’s stomach clenched into knots as he watched the line of MRAPs gunning their engines in reverse, crushing some of the protestors who were swarming over the retreating vehicles.
“To those participating in this protest, I urge you to reconsider your actions and engage in constructive dialogue through legal and peaceful means,” said Hobbs. “We are a nation built on the principles of democracy and the rule of law, and it is through these channels that we must address grievances and seek solutions.”
Hundreds of people were arrested in the aftermath of what became known as the Tempe Beach Blockade. The majority of the protestors were released the same day, causing a public outcry and calls for a recall of Governor Hobbs.
But that was just the tip of the iceberg. With the re-election of Donald Trump, the tenuous threads holding together the Democratic coalition began to unravel. Innumerable accusations were hurled from the LGTBQ+ community towards the Free Palestine movement, which in turn criticized Black Lives Matter and Antifa for not supporting them. Blue-collar union workers demonized Marxist college professors, and Native Americans criticized illegal aliens. The fights were vicious and filled with acrimony.
Meanwhile, in a series of pre-dawn raids conducted by the FBI, dozens of key leaders of the Democratic National Party were led to jail in handcuffs and leg irons while news crews from a half-dozen networks looked on.
"Woo-hoo! Look at that, buddy!" Richard Thompson, Juan's old boss, beckoned Juan from his living room chair. They'd both been celebrating with copious amounts of tequila. Richard had hired Juan back after the election because business had picked up again. "They're never going to recover from this, never! The Democratic Party is dead!"
“Hmm…” Juan was bleary-eyed but still coherent. “What’s gonna happen to my ‘family business’ now?” Juan still felt guilty for participating in the election theft.
“Huh?” Richard gave Juan a quizzical look, “What are you talking about?”
Juan shook his head. “Maybe it’s just a setback for them?”
“No way. They’re done,” Richard grinned malevolently. “Trump's got a new DA. He calls him his 'Wingman,' just like Obama did with Eric Holder. He's seized all their files, social media accounts, hard drives, everything. He’s even seized the buildings they were operating out of. But you know what the best part is?”
Juan examined his empty tequila bottle, shook his head, and said, “No, what?”
“The best part is,” Richard laughed so hard he started coughing, “The best part is that they’re pinning the whole thing on Obama.”
“I thought they were after Hillary Clinton?” Juan cocked his head to make sure he’d heard correctly.
"He is, he is!" Richard's laugh was gruff and brutal. "And she's going to die in jail, too! She can appeal all the way up to the new Supreme Court if she wants, but she's finally going to get what's coming to her."
“Hmm…” Juan grunted approvingly. “Well, adios to all those cabróns!” he flipped his hand defiantly.
But then Juan thought of his daughter. Sofia had accused him of betraying the American Dream, and somewhere hidden deep inside, he wondered if she was right. What have we done?
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