55
Friday, March 5, 2021, 3PM Central Standard Time
It was a sleety, gray afternoon in St. Louis, Missouri. Judge Jacob Cooke, Chief Judge of the 8th District Court of Appeals, was looking forward to the weekend. He was reading over a report on a promising new vaccine for the virus. Maybe we can get back to normal finally, he thought. It had been a dreary, disruptive year.
As he was thinking these happy thoughts, his cell phone buzzed. He picked it up and answered.
“Cooke.”
“Judge Cooke?” A man’s voice.
“Speaking.”
“This is Jim Bielecki over in Omaha.”
“Jim,” Judge Cooke said, thinking.
“U.S. Marshals Service. I head up the Judicial Security Division up here.”
“Right,” Judge Cooke said. “What can I do for you?”
“We have had an incident up here,” Bielecki said.
“What kind of incident?”
“A pair of shootings.”
“Jesus. In the courthouse?”
“One outside the courthouse, one at the home of a judge. There may be more.”
The bottom of Judge Cooke’s stomach seemed to drop out.
“Dead?” he said.
“One dead, one seems okay, but we have her in protective custody. And we’re trying to account for all the other judges.”
“Who?”
“Judge Chuck Thomas was killed. Judge Judith Martin was unhurt, but as you can imagine, she’s pretty shaken up.”
“Jesus.”
“We have the police and FBI here looking for two males. One blond guy who was reported to look like ex-military, and a younger, gangly-looking guy, walked with a limp.”
“They are two of the judges who sat on the three-judge panel to rule on the recount issue in the Omaha congressional district,” Judge Cooke said suddenly.
“Judge Martin seems to think there’s a link to that as well. She’s pretty shook.”
“Have you checked on the third judge?”
“Lewis,” Bielecki said. “We’re trying to locate him right now. And all the others, just in case.”
“My god,” Judge Cooke said.
“It’s my understanding,” the agent said to him, “that the Eighth Circuit is set to rule on this case?”
The judge sank back in his chair.
“That’s right.”
“Your honor, I think we are going to have to step up your security down there in St. Louis,” Bielecki said. “If there is a link to this case, then they won’t stop with these judges. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary around your courthouse?”
Cooke thought for a moment.
“Nothing I’ve noticed,” he said. “Missouri’s had armed people protesting the virus lockdown and trying to force their way into the statehouse, but Jeff City’s 120 miles from here.”
“I’m going to call my guys down where you are,” Bielecki said. “You need to coordinate with them to get some procedures in place to secure the courthouse. I’ll give you the right numbers. And Judge?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful. We’ll do all we can do, but it’ll help if you notify your people and try to make sure they are safe.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’m going to be busy over here with this investigation and securing the place here, but our guys down there will help you.”
“Thanks.”
“And Judge,” Bielecki said, sounding a little hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“Your honor, I would trust the non-politicals and the middle-seniority agents maybe a little more than the senior and political people on this.”
“What… what are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything, your honor. Just, listen to the working guys on this one. Don’t put anyone’s life at risk just because some higher-up seems ready to nonchalant it. That’s about as far as I can go.”
Cooke did not know what to say to this.
“Uh, okay. Thanks.”
“Tell your people to keep their heads down.”
“I will. Thank you again.”
Judge Cooke put his phone down and put his head in his hands.
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian