Chapter 30
Euclid raised her arms as a young deputy with curly blond hair—-couldn’t have been more than twenty--four years old—-slipped a heavy bulletproof vest over her head. He was handsome, sporting a crooked nose that looked like it had once been broken.
“Is this really necessary?” Euclid chuckled nervously.
“Better to not want it and have it than need it and not have it.” He smiled at her reassuringly, squeezing her arm. “You’re gonna do great.”
He handed her a ballistic helmet, and Euclid clipped it under her chin, feeling a little like a toddler in oversized clothing as it slipped down over her forehead. Now outfitted, she took a seat in a plush office chair in the corner of the Eagle County Sheriff’s Office.
A team had been assembled at the behest of District Attorney Adewale to execute the arrest of Margie Brooksfield. It was four thirty in the morning and still dark, the eastern sky just edging into a shade of dark gray that signaled approaching daybreak.
The request for Margie to turn herself in, made to her attorney, Caldas, had been ignored.
Euclid could guess why: Caldas wanted a scene of her client’s arrest that would make a big splash in the news.
It would be a way to take control of the narrative, but even more so to create a spectacle with many opportunities for law enforcement to make missteps that could then be used in court.
The goal was, therefore, to effectuate an uneventful and smooth arrest. The team had been carefully picked and was comprised of the primary arrest officer—-Sheriff Colcord—-along with Agent Cash, six backup officers, a media--coordinating officer, and a weapons specialist. Paul Brooksfield was a gun owner, after all, and who knew how he would react.
Adewale had asked Euclid to accompany the arrest team.
It was unusual for the vertical prosecutor to be present for a routine arrest, but this was a high--profile case, and there was some media value in it.
There were also complexities surrounding the Brooksfield arrest that might require immediate legal advice, as well as a “supervisor” for evidence collection.
Caldas was known for getting her clients off on technicalities, and everything had to be perfect.
Everything. That’s where Euclid came in.
Her lips thinned in determination. She felt adrift in unfamiliar waters here. But with the promise of a promotion on the horizon, and with her natural instincts making her want to kick Belen Caldas’s butt in the courtroom, she knew her attendance would give her an edge.
“All right, quiet down a sec!” Director Holmes shouted above the hubbub. A hush fell over the room. “As you all know, this is a tricky arrest. Our private investigator said there are reporters and protestors camped outside of the Brooksfield Ranch. Where’s our media coordinator?”
A pale woman with a beautiful face and a black bob raised a hand. “Josephine Smith, Director.”
“Good. I’m sure Sheriff Colcord has gotten you up to speed.
You’re going to be debriefing the press and public while the arrest occurs.
Keep them distracted. Coordinate a path with our deputies through the crowd that we can bring Margie Brooksfield through.
It’s early, so hopefully there won’t be that many camped outside the place.
Weapons Specialist Orlov, can you say a few words?
” Holmes peered over the sea of tactical helmets.
A burly arm was raised. A bear-like man with a hooked nose stepped forward.
He towered over the rest of the officers.
“Boris Orlov, ma’am.” He craned his neck around to address the room.
“Our main priority should be ensuring a peaceful arrest, and compliance from Mr. and Mrs. Brooksfield. Sheriff Colcord and I have debriefed the deputies on how to use our specialized breaching equipment and gone over risk mitigation. I’ve also impressed the importance of only using weapons like bean bag rounds and Tasers to maintain control and safety.
We certainly hope it will not come to that.
I’ve gone over with the deputies what to do if Paul Brooksfield arms himself and resists. ”
“Good, good. Now the prosecutor?” She looked around.
Euclid stood, clearing her throat nervously. “Here, ma’am.”
“Officer Cassian Wiley is your point person. Stick by him.”
The attractive blond deputy with the crooked nose nodded somberly at her.
“If any of you have any legal questions,” Holmes continued, “ask Deputy DA Euclid here. These include questions on what and where you’re allowed and not allowed to search.
Questions on escalation of force. Anything of a legal nature at all.
And, Ms. Euclid,” Holmes said, “if you see any behavior that falls into the gray or red area of the law, please make yourself known. We can’t have Caldas bringing anything into court over what happens today. ”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let’s move out.”
Pretty soon, Euclid was sandwiched between Officer Wiley and a female deputy in the back of an SUV, bumping down a remote Colorado road.
Agent Cash was driving. Euclid eyed her curiously.
Muscles rippled under her shirt as she manipulated the steering wheel.
She seemed capable, and Euclid felt a little safer in her car.
But when they arrived outside the Brooksfield Ranch, Euclid was dismayed to see several tents set up on federal land outside.
Some had been pitched in the road itself, blocking the gate.
Press vans had pulled off the road, idling like sharks waiting to close in for the kill.
As they grew closer, she could see signs and placards had been scrawled and staked next to the tents.
She strained her eyes to make out what they said, and a flash of headlights on them revealed the words.
JUSTICE FOR JAVI, KILL THE FREAKS!, BACK TO EXTINCTION!
, NEANDERS: A GOVERNMENT PROJECT, SAPIENS SUPREMACY, and RE-EXTINCT THE FREAKS!
Other signs were less aggressive, some of them bearing crosses.
IT’S A CRIME TO BE A GOOD CHRISTIAN, they said.
Others still said, MARGIE BURN IN HELL, LOCK HER UP, and AREA 51.
“What’s all this?” Euclid asked, confused.
“We got crazies,” said Agent Cash from the driver’s seat, “who think the Neanders are responsible and that Margie Brooksfield is a government plant. We got members of her church protesting. We got people demanding her arrest. And then we got people—-” Agent Cash paused to inspect the signs.
“Well, I don’t know what the hell they’re protesting. ”
“Did we know they had blocked the road? Is there another entrance?”
“No,” Officer Wiley responded, a troubled expression on his face. “This isn’t good, but we’ll clear them out.”
The train of SUVs slowed to a halt in front of the gate.
Sheriff Colcord vaulted out of the front car with several deputies to approach the four tents pitched in the road.
Agent Cash followed. It was still dark, and lights began to switch on in the tents, shadows stirring inside.
A reporter holding a microphone, followed by a cameraperson, sidled up to one of the SUVs in front of them, shouting questions through the tinted windows.
Pretty soon, another reporter was at Euclid’s window, shining a flashlight inside.
Euclid squinted and shielded her eyes, ignoring him.
“After I leave, make sure that door’s locked,” Wiley said.
“Where are you going?” Euclid asked, alarmed.
“To help them clear a path. You stay put, doors locked, windows up. Won’t need you until we get to the house anyways. I’ll be back.”
Officer Wiley and the female deputy disappeared from the vehicle, leaving Euclid alone.
She watched as they gently shooed the cameraperson away.
Angry cries erupted across the dirt road.
Euclid couldn’t see well through the tinted windows—-but well enough to see several men and women were exiting the tents with metal baseball bats, shouting.
Some of the deputies had now pulled up the tent stakes and were dragging them off the road, even with people inside.
The commotion worsened. Josephine Smith was trying to move the television crews back from
the road, as they were shooting the enfolding events.
“Get back!” Cash shouted.
More people poured out of the tents, some picking up signs, others with bats, shouting anti--government slogans.
Euclid could see many of them wore blue armbands with Neander profiles crossed out.
The dark fury on their faces surprised her—-they were beyond angry.
Orlov’s huge silhouette stepped from one of the cars, wielding a Taser and shouting for them to stand back, temporarily halting their advance.
But the crowd was seething, and Euclid could see the beginnings of actual violence.
An especially angry teenager with a pinched brow and a blue bandanna wrapped around his lower face approached her SUV, shouting and holding a bat aloft.
He jabbed the bat into a side window, shattering it.
Before Euclid could react, he’d reached in, unlocked the door, and pulled it open.
She scrambled over to the driver’s side and seized the door to pull it closed, but the kid managed to thrust the baseball bat into the doorjamb. He yanked it open.
“Well, lookie--loo here,” he said, crawling into the vehicle. “Got myself a government piggy all by herself.”
“Get the hell away from me!” Euclid yelled, looking around for Wiley.
Where was he? She pressed her back to the passenger door, fingers clawing behind her for the handle to get out the other side.
The guy grabbed her foot, and she felt herself pulled toward him.
Finally, her fingers snagged the handle just enough to click the door open.
She jerked her foot away and went spilling into the dirt of the road.
She leapt to her feet, taking off running.
Glancing back, she saw the masked teenager coming out the other side of the SUV and start after her.
Everything was in chaos. Shouts and yells reverberated around her. Dust was rising, adding to the bedlam. Euclid couldn’t believe how fast everything had happened.
“Come back here, you little bitch!” She heard the voice behind her again as he caught up to her, his hand grasping the backstrap of her bulletproof vest. He jerked her back.
She swung around and hit him in the face.
Crying out in surprise, he released her and dropped the bat, giving her time to turn and run again.
A bang echoed to her left, and another, and acrid smoke suddenly filled the air, an unfamiliar, pungent stench attacking Euclid’s nose and lungs and blinding her.
She staggered, coughing, her eyes, nose, throat on fire.
Jesus Christ, someone had deployed tear gas. Had it been police or protesters?
Suddenly, a palm fell on her shoulder. She whipped around. A terrifying black mask emerged from the smoke like some demented plague doctor. She tried to scream but couldn’t. She was choking and could hardly see to move. She stumbled back.
“It’s Officer Wiley,” the familiar voice said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
She felt something slip over her head and face, and suddenly, she could breathe again.
It was a gas mask. She took deep, gulping breaths, hacking.
Her entire face was wet with tears and snot.
Another bang, and more gas hissed into the air.
She could hear crying, coughing, and screams from the fog.
The smoke was everywhere. Euclid could barely see through her tears.
Her assailant seemed to have disappeared.
Euclid felt faint and stumbled against Officer Wiley. He scooped her up with ease. One arm looped under her knees, the other supporting her back. Her cheek bumped softly against a muscled shoulder as he strode toward an idling SUV.
“I never should have left you alone. I’m sorry,” Wiley said.
He opened the door and placed her behind the passenger seat. Someone had swept the seats free of broken glass.
Next to her was a handcuffed woman in a gas mask who could only be Margie Brooksfield. Euclid could just make out the terrified expression through the mask.
“We got Brooksfield,” Wiley said. “Gave herself up voluntarily to try to stop the situation from escalating. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Cash was in the driver’s seat, and Officer Wiley sat next to her.
The CBI agent revved the engine and peeled off down the road, emerging from the clouds of dust and tear gas at speed.
Euclid glanced back at the Armageddon they had left behind, the press rushing this way and that, smoke drifting in the air.
She was horrified to see an SUV upside down and on fire—-a fire that was now spreading through the dry grass and licking up the ranch fence.
She could hear sirens wailing in the distance.
Euclid pulled off the gas mask. “What … happened?” she panted, raising her arm to wipe snot and tears off her face.
Wiley grabbed her arm to stop her. “Don’t—-your shirt’s still covered in tear gas.” He handed her a towel from the front, and she took it gratefully, cleaning herself up.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Who deployed the tear gas?”
“They tried to flip Sheriff Colcord’s police cruiser and set it on fire with two deputies inside,” Cash said. “They barely got out on time. That’s when we deployed the tear gas. Several of them attacked our people with bats. An absolute shit show.”
“Jesus.” Euclid laid her head back on the seat, ears ringing.
This had been a catastrophe. Her eyes stung, and her throat was swollen and on fire.
She could barely swallow. Belen Caldas would have plenty to work with, that was for sure.
Euclid couldn’t even begin to imagine how she was going to explain this to the judge.
What a mess. She just hoped nobody had been killed.