Chapter 4

Two months had gone by since Alvin Kuntzler had inundated the news services with the reports of murders across the United States. Left-wing politicians, the left-wing media and anyone else hating anything right-wing were up in arms.

Democrats in Washington were cobbling together emergency gun control legislation that in turn had the right-wing people up in arms. Republicans agreed for political reasons to jump on the gun-control band wagon. Having wrested control of the White House and Congress in 2016, it was more-or-less assumed the Democrats would get whatever they wanted passed.

Congressional legislators, with good reason, would vote on the measures in a closed session with the voting results to be withheld from the public. The events of the last 90 days had certainly tightend many a sphincter in the halls of Congress.

The hue and cry ignited the news stories daily. Right-wing organizations – protective of their 2nd Amendment rights were swelling their ranks with new groups forming weekly. Gun sales could not keep up with demand. Some Muslim leaders were crying out for protection but the bulk of them have gone silent. Likewise, Liberal activist who were quite vocal in the past, in the cities and college campuses, have crawled into the woodwork..

Back in his office, Greg Marcotte scanned the Internet for the latest news and editorials taking one side or another. In spite of the investigation being full blown and removed from his hands, very little had come of the digging for the perpetrators.

In once instance, a Senator that proposed repealing the second amendment was shot in the chest but survived, right in D.C. A white van was spotted at the scene. Police pursued and surrounded the vehicle.

The drive inside was found dead, having swallowed cyanide. Something Greg Marcotte though only happened in the movies. But those at the FBI and behind closed doors in Washington were convinced this was a major operation with big money behind it. Every rich man in America was coming under the microscope.

Greg Marcotte, now assigned to a lesser task, looked over the major websites for the news services. It was with interest that he that morning he did a little dot-connecting himself.

In Little Rock, a child molester was given 25 years for his misdeeds with an eight-year-old. In Topeka, a judge ruled in favor of a condo-owner who sued to keep displaying the American flag in his upstairs window. In Runyan, Kansas, an entire school board was replaced by the citizens after banning any mention of Christmas yet allowing displays of Muslim holiday posters.

In something so tinged with national disharmony and potential choas, leaders of politically active groups – primarily liberal leaning groups would be approached by the press and give the newly adopted script line of “no comment’.

Greg Marcotte leaned back in his chair and wondered just what it all meant and just what can of worms Mr. Alvin Kuntzler had actually opened. It wasn’t Alvin Kuntzler’s can of worms, he only handled the can opener. In spite of all of the dangers this may be leading to, Greg Marcotte felt a tinge of respect for Mr. Kuntzler’s abiltity to see what no one else was willing to pay attention to.

He took a moment to remember the time when he was eleven years old. His father was a Cinncinati, Ohio Police Officer with twelve years of distinguished service. Greg Marcotte remembered distinctly the day he was notified at school – taken to his home and told by his Mom that his Dad had been gunned down at a convenience store after responding to a robbery attempt. His killer was never found – never brought to justice.

Greg stepped away from his desk and moved to his office window. He thought about the many things that brought him into law enforcment, especially the mental commitment he had made to his Father at the funeral.

Agent Marcotte just stood for a while, looking at the world outside and contemplating his life, his world and the events of the last three months. He looked at his watch and decided he was going to take a nice, long lunch – but first he would call his wife – just to tell her he loved her.