CHAPTER SEVEN
Jean, Gaspar, Miller, Antoine, Alec, Tailor, Nine, Doc, Ghost, and Ian walked the area around Jackson Square waiting for the candidate to show up. After doing some background work on Alan Snow, the team wasn’t happy about what they found. Or more importantly, what they didn’t find.
The documents filed for his candidacy said that he was born and raised in Beaumont, Texas.
He wasn’t a native Louisianian. He’d made money in property development, which only sent red flags up for everyone.
Several times over the years, someone had suggested he used force to get what he wanted, but nothing ever made it to a courtroom.
While attempting to build a group of condos on protected land in the Everglades, he decided to run for office. He technically lived in the district and had been a resident for the required period of time.
What no one could understand was why he would run against the incumbent who had held the office for more than twenty years. Suddenly, the incumbent decides to retire, taps a replacement to run in his spot with no experience, no desire for public office, and no education.
Snow won the election, built the condos by pushing through the required permits to build on protected lands, then left as soon as the condos were filled with residents. A year later, Hurricane Sam hit the condos.
Had they been built to code, the condos should have easily survived a category two hurricane. Instead, buildings crumbled into the swamplands, killing dozens of people, contaminating the swamps, creating an environmental disaster, destroying wildlife, and destroying lives.
That didn’t stop Snow, who then decided to build near a protected forest in Arkansas. Again, he built the condos using shoddy work methods, with little to no inspections done, and the first good storm, the condos were gone.
Now in New Orleans, he seemed determined to win the election for mayor, in spite of not being from the area. It wasn’t easy to do. If you weren’t a local, New Orleans residents probably weren’t going to vote for you.
“I’m gonna grab us some waters,” said Jean. He walked into the small convenience store and noticed the woman behind the counter crying, holding her abdomen.
“Ma’am? Are you alright?” he asked. He turned toward the door and yelled. “Hey, Doc? I need you in here.”
“It’s alright. I’ll be alright. That damn man,” she mumbled. Doc rushed to her side, helping her to sit behind the counter.
“What happened?” asked Doc.
“He’s damn determined to force me to put election signs in here and get people to vote for him. I ain’t votin’ for no outsider that’s tryin’ to tear down our park.”
“I’m going to lift your shirt, alright?” asked Doc softly.
“You ain’t gonna see nothin’ good, sweetie. But you’re a cutie, so go ahead.” Jean smirked at his friend as he lifted her t-shirt. Her abdomen was bruised, evidence of someone punching or kicking the woman.
“When did this happen?” growled Jean.
“Uh, is he mad at me?” she asked Doc.
“No, ma’am. But he damn sure is mad, and that might be the worst thing Mr. Snow could have done.”
“You knew who I was talkin’ about?” she frowned.
“Yes, ma’am. We’re about to ruin Mr. Snow’s parade,” said Doc. “Go, Jean. Ya’ll go find him, and I’ll take care of my friend here…”
“Winnie.”
“Winnie. I’ll take care of Winnie.” Jean nodded at Doc and headed out to the Square. He had an armload of bottled waters and set down a fifty-dollar bill.
“That’s too much!” yelled Winnie.
“Don’t worry about it,” smiled Doc. “Coming in here was worth every penny of it.”
“What’s going on in there?” asked Ian.
“Snow and his buddies beat up the old lady that runs the store. Apparently, he was trying to force her to carry his election signs and support his candidacy.”
“He damn sure likes to lay his hands on little old ladies,” frowned Miller. “I think it’s time we met him face to face.”
Antoine held up a finger, cocking his head. The others listened, then heard it as well. Someone with a bullhorn was trying to gather a crowd. They looked around the outer square, then saw the open truck slowly moving toward them.
“I believe that’s our man,” frowned Nine. “A little old-fashioned for my tastes, but then again, if he has no digital footprint, he could get away with a lot more than most people.”
The truck stopped, and Snow was doing everything in his power to gather a crowd. His tactics were old-fashioned and clumsy, almost as if he’d never run for office before. He was waving at women and children, giving out balloons and candy. It was all very strange.
“It’s time for a change, folks! We need to move out the trash and bring in modern condos and office space. It’s been too long of doing things the old way here in New Orleans. We want to attract the right kind of people to our fair city. Not the trash!”
“Go away, boy,” yelled an old man on the corner. “We told ‘ya. We ain’t votin’ for a man who knows nothin’ about our city. You call our city and our people trash again, and I’ll show you what this old man can do.”
Nine watched as one of the men on the truck hopped off and circled toward the old man. He held a baton, which no doubt was the cattle prod.
“I got him,” said Alec.
Alec worked his way toward the old man, arriving just as the bodyguard reached for him. But instead of his cattle prod making a direct connection, it was blocked, stripped from his hand, broken in half, and then shoved in his mouth.
“Hey! Hey, what are you doing?” yelled Snow.
“I’m teaching your dog a lesson,” said Alec. Snow nodded toward three other men who were promptly met by Miller, Ghost, Antoine, Gaspar, and Nine.
“Going somewhere, boys?” asked Ghost.
“Get out of my way, old man,” said one of the men.
“Old man,” smirked Gaspar. “You’re calling my friends old? Maybe a little age and experience would serve you well. You’re trying to convince others of your good deeds, yet you enjoy hurting old women. That’s a pathetic excuse for a man.”
The men looked at one another, then back at Snow, who lifted his hands in exasperation. He walked closer to where they were standing, bending over the railing of the truck.
“Get rid of them,” he snapped.
“Why don’t you get rid of us?” said Jean, now standing in the back of the truck behind the man.
“Who the hell are you?” he said, lowering the microphone.
“Me? Oh, me and all these men are the sons of the woman you used the cattle prod on yesterday. If you need clarity, she was about five-feet tall with white hair. Not to be confused with the woman in that store over there that you had your men beat.”
“I gave no such orders,” he said, smirking at Jean.
“Yeah? Well, I’ve decided I don’t like what you’re selling.” Jean lifted the man, gripping him between his thighs and under his arms, and tossed him over the railing and onto the pavement of the Square.
The eruption of laughter and applause infuriated Snow as he stood, brushing the dampness and dirt from his linen trousers.
“I’ll have you arrested,” he snapped.
“Oh. Please do. Here, let me call the police chief,” said Jean, dialing the number.
“Caleb? Yeah, man, how are you? Good, good. Listen, Caleb, if you’re near the Square, we could use some help.
A man named Snow would like us arrested.
Yep. I tossed him out of his truck. He went after Mama and Miss Ruby with a cattle prod and had a lady named Winnie, yep, the one in the convenience store, had her beaten. Cool.”
“Who the hell are you?” demanded Snow.
“Well, now, hold on. I’m granting your wish. The police chief is on the way, and I’m sure he’d like to speak with you directly about your accusations. And, of course, we’d like to speak to him directly about you laying hands on our mama and her friend.”
“That old woman wouldn’t get out of my way.”
“That old woman is our mother,” said Alec, charging toward him. Snow literally screamed like a little girl, evoking more laughter and applause. “But it wouldn’t matter whose mother she was, you don’t hit women, especially old women who deserve your respect.”
“You won’t stop this. None of you will stop this! This park will be torn down, and I will have my condos.”
“I don’t think so,” said Gaspar. “You see, this is a national park. A historic national park. Those trees are more than three hundred years old, which means you can’t touch them.
The city will stop you, the state will stop you, and more importantly, the federal government will stop you.
Protective agencies will step in and stop you, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll stop you.
I think you’ve seen that we can, and we don’t care who you are. ”
“I’ll have my development. This park will be torn down, and I will use those same trees you’re trying to protect to build my condos and office space.
That should send a message to everyone here that I cannot be stopped.
I will get this land one way or another,” he said, standing firm. Nine just chuckled, shaking his head.
“Not in this lifetime.”