Home Invasion - J. A. Johnstone [58]
A bold graphic at the bottom of the screen read TEXAS SHOOTING SPREE—ATTACK ON PRESS.
The news anchor continued, “At another anti-immigrant rally held tonight in Home, one of the gun-toting citizens opened fire on news crews from this network and others, attempting to murder them with a shotgun. Here’s footage of some of the damage done to news trucks by stray gunfire as the assailant tried to mow down reporters and cameramen.”
“Wait a minute,” Billy said. “I didn’t shoot at nobody. I just shot up them antennas.”
“Billy Squires, did you do that?” Eloise asked. “Shame on you!”
Alex motioned for both of them to be quiet. On TV, the camera panned across the two ruined satellite dishes, then the footage immediately cut to close-ups of gun racks in several pickups, showing rifles and shotguns hanging on them.
The implication was obvious. Home was full of gun-toting lunatics who would open fire at anything that moved.
The cameraman hadn’t been content with that slanted image, however. Next the round face of the local Baptist pastor leaped onto the screen as he prayed for God to smite the evildoers. His face was flushed and covered with beads of sweat. To viewers on both coasts, the message would be clear: Home, Texas, wasn’t just full of gun-nuts. It was full of religious fanatics, too.
A bitter taste filled Alex’s mouth. Liberal spin, half-truths, and outright lies … those were the media’s stock in trade these days.
Betsy Carlyle came into the station. Alex took hold of Billy’s arm and gave him a gentle push toward her. “Betsy, would you put Mr. Squires in one of the holding cells?”
“Sure, Alex.” Betsy nodded toward the TV. “The story’s all over the radio, too. They’re sure makin’ us look bad.”
“Nothing new about that.”
“Yeah, but it’s not right.” Betsy took hold of Billy’s arm. “Come on, you.”
“Didn’t we go to high school together?” Billy asked the petite, redheaded officer.
“You really are drunk, aren’t you? We dated for two months in tenth grade, you damn fool.”
Billy’s face lit up in a grin. “Oh, yeah! I remember you now. Lil’ Betsy. We went out to Fletcher’s stock tank one night and—”
She shoved him down the hall and into the holding cell before he could continue reminiscing.
“What happens now, boss?” Eloise asked Alex as she leaned on the counter.
Alex sighed wearily. “I’m hoping it’s all over. The news media will smirk at us for a few days, then move on to whatever the next big story is.”
“What about Pete?”
Alex shook her head. “He probably won’t make it.”
“And that man Navarre?”
“Out of our hands now,” Alex said. “He won his court case, and he’ll collect his millions from the federal government and the gun manufacturer. He won’t get much from Pete’s estate, though. There won’t be much there.”
“What about the criminal charges against him?”
Alex grimaced. “I’m betting that Everett Hobson will practically break his neck getting into court tomorrow morning and asking that the charges against Navarre be dropped. The slimy lawyer of his made an end run right around justice.”
“That’s a real shame,” Eloise said as she shook her head. “It’s just not right.”
“No, it’s not,” Alex agreed. “I just hope this fuss tonight was the last of it. I’d like to see the town get back to normal. We’ve had enough trouble.”
Now, she thought, if everybody else would just go along with that …
“It’s extraordinary, isn’t it, Carl, for the President to comment directly on a civil settlement reached by the government?”
“That’s right, Roberta, but the rumor going around Washington today is that the President will have a major announcement to make regarding the Navarre settlement. So far there’s no hint of what that announcement might be, but sources close to White House Chief of Staff Geoffrey St. John indicate that it’s something very important to the President. He—”
“Excuse me, Carl, but we go now live to the Oval Office.”
“My fellow Americans, good afternoon. The past few days I’ve been very troubled, and no doubt you have, too, by the continuing