Critical Acclaim

"God bless America!" The President of the United States ended his final speech with this old cliché that in reality meant very little. But the people below the stage seemed to disagree with this truth. They had come from all across the country to hear him speak and to brag to their neighbors. What they didn't know was that they were going to witness far more meaningful that President Bush's farewell address.

The crowd of gossipers and liars wore wide grins, masking their pleasure of knowing his term was over permanently as good cheer for the man who led them through 7 years of Hell. Most politicians standing beside the president did not catch on to the two-facedness of Americans. Journalists sat in the front row taking note of the "tangible emotion" in the hall where they had all gathered. The President stood on stage, a smile plastered on his face; just think no more war...

What a tragedy!

George W. Bush lurched forward and tumbled onto the laps of the journalists below him. For a moment there was a confused silence then the hall erupted into a mixture of the high pitched screams of a woman and the calls for people to get down by security guards around the stage. No one listened to the guards and no one soothed the new widow. Instead there was a mad rush to the exits, a stampede to be exact. Wave after wave poured out into the streets of Washington D.C. until the hall was empty save for the emergency workers and one man in the balcony behind the stage.

It was lucky that none of the civilians had seen this man. He was ghostly in the dim lights behind the stage and the gun barrel peeking through the bars would have unnerved all who'd seen him. He was a silent hunter in the midst of deer. Fortunately for most, he had trained the gun on the most open of the deer, and unfortunately for him he had not gone unnoticed by the emergency workers. Within minutes they had the executioner in custody.

The sudden glare of light nearly blinded the slight man chained to the cold steel chair. He pulled as far away from it as the high backed chair would allow to no avail. All he saw was the faint colored blobs as he closed his lids and opened them repeatedly. Despite this disadvantage he was able to hear the distinct sounds of two chairs being dragged across concrete. He focused on the sounds which reached him from beyond the harsh light, which he now recognized as one of those lamps that you see on T.V. shows like Law & Order or The Closer when they make their bust, and he was able to make out two shadows.

He blinked slowly as the shadows moved and took seats, or at least that was what logic told him they were doing. What he saw however were the two shadows sinking into the ground. One of the shadows cleared its throat and began to speak confidently, "Are you Daniel Ford?"

"I am..." He spoke quietly not trusting himself to say anymore until he was sure they wanted to hear him out. They would just shut him up anyway, what was the point in that.

"Alright. Daniel Ford..."

"Please, call me Danny I insist. Daniel is much too formal for this occasion wouldn't you agree?" He said politely. He was such a gentlemen even handcuffed to a chair.

"Whatever, Danny did you shoot the president?"

Danny coughed lightly. "Do you think I didn't?"

The other interrogator cut in sharply, thrusting his head into the pool of lamplight. "Listen Danny, you're in enough trouble as it is; so just answer our questions without any games and we'll be gentle with you. Got it?"

"Yes sir, perfectly."

The first interrogator continued on to the next question. "First things first, how did you get the gun in without being detected? How come no one saw you?"

"Ah well that's a story, unimportant but still a story." Danny saw the two interrogators exchange a look so he hurried on. "You see, my dear..." he squinted to make out the name tag on his first interrogator, "Ms. Vargas that is for me to know and for you...not to."

Detective Saunders opened his mouth to scold him but Vargas cut him off before he could even start. "Very well then, since you're not going to answer that one, how about this? What the hell made you kill the President? He was stepping down, what was the point?"

The chains holding Danny down clanked eerily against the steel of the chair and the table in front of him. Each swing could be heard as it sliced through the musty space. After a moment of the comforting sound Danny looked up from his folded hands and smiled grimly. "It's a long story, I'm not too sure you'd care to hear it."

"We don't have time to hear a guy's life story of how he was abused as a child," the second interrogator snarled. "Just answer the question straight."

"I'm sorry Detective..." Danny squinted against glare from the light to make out the name tag on the interrogator's shirt, "Saunders. But my story has no straight answer and it is directly linked to my actions. To clarify things I was not abused as a child nor was I unloved. Shall I begin my tale now?"

"I don't like this, but fine."

"Good. Now where should I start? Ah yes of course." Danny took a deep breath and began his tale. "My brother was very proud..."

"He stood on the deck of the Navy ship, shoved against the railing by the sheer number of men dressed in the same uniform of navy blue and white, his brass buttons sparkling with the sunlight. He waved to us, my mother who stood by my side waving at her youngest with pride and tears sliding gently down her cheeks. I waved also, I was proud of my little brother; I admired him, having the courage to board a ship for long periods of time and to fight for the rights that we as Americans so deeply cherish. Personally I preferred to be in labs and trying to develop cures for cancer and such, but I admired my little brother so much.

"It hadn't surprised either of us a lot when he announced that he'd enlisted in the Navy. He had always loved the ocean and the Navy offered many benefits. Plus the idea of helping another country throw off its blood-thirsty ruler appealed to him. None of us underestimated the danger involved in going to Iraq but there was nothing we could do about it. He was owned by the United States government.

"On the day he left, I wasn't thinking of the war he would see when he got to the Middle East but about the sea. Would it be kind to them? I didn't know and I worried that he would get sick. It hadn't occurred to me then that this might be the last time I'd see him. It didn't occur to me that seven months later he would die in battle and that the government would send an apology of the deepest regrets, the only personal touch being a signature, and a couple thousand dollars. It didn't occur to me that three weeks after that my mother would follow her youngest to Heaven, having died of grief. It never occurred to me that I would be the last one left, the one left alone with my thoughts.

"And I might add that these ideas, the brief images that flitted through my mind in the first three years were none too good. Neighbors came to offer their condolences for awhile and then it became old news. Then began the rumors of other things, like how the war was a scam, how the soldiers needed to come home immediately, how the whole thing was a complete failure. This sunk deep down into me and awakened something in me that twisted angrily. My brother had died because of this war, and my mother was not in the kitchen right then because of his death. He could not have died for nothing at all. I would not let this happen.

"With this in mind I reemerged into the world. But this time there were no welcoming smiles from the people I'd known all of my life. No, they glared at me...I had supported the war and so had my brother and my mother. In the beginning all had supported the war. It was only because of recent events and the media that broadcasted the negatives that had flipped everyone.

"I did my best to ignore them and instead focused my attention on the politics of things. It was early this year when I began to really listen. We were still "helping" Iraq, still trying to democratize a country that would most likely revert back to a dictatorship after American troops pulled out. This country was run by a hypocrite, a man who was too cowardly to admit his grand plan. Too bad for him it had failed miserably, whatever it was because I could not imagine why anyone would want Iraq to be like this now.

"That's when it struck me, really struck me. I stood in front of a TV display watching as the President made his final State of the Union address. There had been many people assassinated before. Agamemnon, Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, Abraham Lincoln, the last Czar of Russia Nicolas, and John F. Kennedy; hadn't they all been assassinated? And many of them for less than what this man had done? Why was he still breathing?

"I was reminded of the video the news had shown of Osama Bin Laden. He'd said that America was a paper lion. In a way he was right. The people of this country are afraid of their own roar. I dared to think that it was time to change that, but this wasn't merely a thought. I was going to make it a reality."

Danny paused and looked at the interrogators. They had miraculously been silent throughout the narrative. Now as he examined them they sat across him, stony faced and stunned. "I'm sorry detectives, but I am a bit thirsty. Is it too much to ask for a glass of water?"

"No its fine, I'll get it." Detective Vargas stood and stretched before striding out of the interrogating room, that Danny could finally see clearly. Now that it was in sharp focus it no longer appeared as ominous.

His attention shifted to the remaining interrogator and the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smirk. "So Detective Saunders, do you like my story?"

"Its interesting enough, but you're not really answering the question Mr. Ford. Why did you kill the President?"

Detective Vargas reentered and placed the small plastic cup on the table in front of him. He took the cup and held it gingerly with both hands. "Thank you Ms. Saunders," he drained it in one gulp and sighed apparently satisfied. He replaced the cup on the table and looked up at Detective Vargas. "To answer your question simply; it was revenge; revenge for not only my family, but for everyone that has died in this senseless war."

Vargas shot him a quizzical look, "You killed him for revenge? Danny, you're pretty well-off; owned your own business, did well in the stock market, had a nice house and an expensive car. Why risk all of that for revenge? Why not wait for someone else to do it?"

"Everyone waits for someone else to do the dirty work. They wish for the person to go play in traffic and lose, especially a politician. But will they do anything to make this dream a reality? No they will not."

Detective Saunders snorted, "So why did you wait until not? The elections are in two weeks, he was going to be out of office for good. What was the point? To start a panic because if that was your goal you sure did a good job of it?"

"That was a bit unfortunate actually. No, Detective I didn't do it to start a mad stampede. My goal was to kill him at the best opportunity. It just turned out that my first and best opportunity was a public one. In a way I turned it into a public execution, Louis XVI of America. Vive la republique!"

"Is there more to your story Danny?" Ms. Vargas asked quietly.

"But of course..."

"The hall as you know was packed. I had of course gotten in unbothered. Or rather I got in with a lot of help. And I was given the best seats, thanks to my friend. I doubt she knew that I had a gun or what I planned to do. I had told no one lest they suffer the same fate that I would. I knew that I would be caught but it worth it.

"So in I went and I was taken up to my seat. I listened to his whole speech. I searched him for redeeming qualities. There was just the slightest chance that I might go through with this plan but he did nothing to save himself. Instead he made matters much worse for himself. He lied through his teeth and hated everyone in that room. If he had his way he would have turned America into a monarchy and declared himself president for life.

"But this did not matter. He continued with his speech and I noticed other things as he spoke. The people... None of them were being honest. They all had these huge smiles on their faces and saying things like, 'I'm so glad I got to see this speech. I've always admired President Bush.' And for what were they doing this? To impress the press probably. That's the only reason I could surmise.

And then it was time for the last words. What foolishness would he utter? I was somewhat pleased that he said 'God Bless America.' That's what all of them say. That's what our money says, did you know that. Either 'God Bless America' or 'In God we trust.' It was the perfect line to kill this man who had cursed our nation. That is when I shot him."

"Mr. Ford, do you regret shooting the President?" Saunders asked slowly.

"Not at all. If I could I would do it again."

Both of the interrogators were stunned. Detective Vargas paused then addressed Danny again. "Mr. Ford we have no choice but to keep you in custody and charge you."

Danny nodded politely, "I expected no less. I of course will plead guilty, I have no need of an attorney."

"Daniel Ford, you are hereby charged with capital felony. You will spend the duration in prison until your name is called at which time you will report to the warden."

"As you wish Your Honor."

His execution was quick but most likely it was not painless. The man trembled as the lethal injection made its way though his body and stopped his heart. There was no service for him, no one who would grieve for him. And the only people who knew the reason behind his madness were his interrogators. Both had attended the execution disturbed as the body that had once housed Danny Ford, a man with a purpose in life, a John Brown of modern times, was taken away. Then they both left as did everyone else in the room. Their job was done, they had executed the executor.