Chapter 16
“Davey, think about this.” Brian’s voice was edged with worry and I stared into his face for a very long moment. There were crows feet around his eyes now, and the well-tanned skin did nothing to hide the dark circles under his eyes. This campaign season was the toughest ever, and we were all tired. It was a small blessing that the boys were backstage, being cared for by his mother and father.
We both missed them a lot.
“I have thought about it, Brian.” I assured him. We were both dressed in expensive Italian suits, and they were the only thing not really rumpled. We’d both gained at least five pounds on this campaign, mostly from lack of good exercise.
“Then why are you doing it?” Brian murmured, moving close and putting his hands around my waist. “You know what this will mean for you, for us, for the boys. Do you really want them to grow up without their father being around every day?”
“You know I don’t want that.” I sighed and resisted the urge to rest my head on his shoulder. Our eyes met, and the worry was so plain in his that I wanted to cry. We stood in a hallway of Arizona State University in Tempe, Arizona. The third Presidential Candidate Debate was getting ready to start down the hallway, and in about three weeks, the people of this country would be casting their votes for who would be the next President.
I’d lived through this time in two previous timelines, but I’d never made it to the next election. In the first timeline, George W. Bush had been President and was being challenged by John Kerry. In the second timeline, Al Gore had been President and was being challenged by Jeb Bush when the war with China broke out.
Of the two, this timeline mostly resembled that original timeline. The Swift Boat Vets had launched vicious commercials attacking the Democratic Nominee and the President was doing an excellent job at message control. Still, there was a difference to the feel of the campaigns, and there was still hope for victory. The biggest roadblock to that, I saw, were all the lies flowing from the Republican side.
It was time to do something about that.
“What do you want, Davey?” Brian asked me.
“We can’t let him win, Brian.” I said firmly. “Look at what’s happened since 2001; look at all the changes. It can only get worse from here. It’s time his lies were exposed.”
“And you think you’re the only one who can do that?” Brian asked. “Find someone else willing to risk jail, don’t do it yourself.”
“Brian, I’m the most credible source who would be willing.” I reminded him and he frowned. “All the others… they’re either on the other side of this thing or they’re not going to stick their neck out.”
“Why does it have to be you?” Brian almost wailed and I frowned for a split second before pulling him into a tight hug. “We’ve got everything going right for us, why do we have to fucking give it up?”
“I won’t do it if you tell me not to.” I said softly into his ear and he shook his head. When we moved apart, there were tears in his eyes.
“I wouldn’t be the man I’ve become, and you wouldn’t be you if we gave up doing the right thing.” Brian’s voice was filled with remorse, and a quiet pride. His eyes told me as much as his words. “If you have to do this, just do it right.”
“I will, my love.” I promised him. We hugged again and went our separate ways. He had to head back and work with the campaign staff who would be handling the ‘talking heads’ after the debate. I picked up my briefcase and went down the hallway into the small room I’d reserved. There was a television in there, tuned to the networks with the volume turned down, and three men, all with laptops whirring away.
“What’s this about?” The first of them asked with a frown as I entered and sat at the small table with them. The other two stopped typing and looked at me with expectant expressions.
“Thank you for coming.” I told all of them after sitting down and sat the briefcase down on the table. “I promise you, what you’re here for will be as big a story as anything that happens in the debate tonight.”
“You promise, do you?” The first man spoke with derision and I nodded.
“You three are some of the top political reporters for the LA Times, the Wall Street Journal, and the New York Times.” I said, nodding at each as I mentioned the paper he wrote for as a reporter. “I’m not going to waste your time tonight.”
“You better not.” LA Times said with a frown. The other who had spoken earlier was from the Wall Street Journal.
“Are we going to wait for the debate to start?” New York Times asked and I shook my head.
“Tonight, when the moderator asks a question about 9/11, and we know there will be some type of question on 9/11, my father is going to ask the President publicly a question he’s been asking in private for two years now.” I began carefully, and was pleased to see the curiosity on all three of them.
“Your father has asked a lot of questions about 9/11.” LA Times said with a snort.
“Yes, but you’ve never heard this one before.” I said as I opened up my briefcase and took out three folders, passing them around. Each of them had enough self-control to not open them immediately.
“What’s in here?” NYT asked as he tapped the folder.
“The answers to my father’s question.” I stated as the debate began to get underway on the screen. I grew silent, and noticed none of them had opened the folder as WSJ picked up the remote and raised the volume on the television. The first question, about whether our children and grandchildren would know a world as safe as the one the two candidates grew up in was a good one. After my father had made the obligatory thanks to Arizona State and the Presidential Commission on Debates, he tore right into an answer that was probably nothing like what people were expecting.
“The world is no more a dangerous place now than it was when I grew up.” My father, the Democratic Candidate for President of the United States said in a voice full of confidence. “The President and his team of advisors might wish you to believe it is any different, but the truth is the United States has always had enemies intent on destroying us. From the day this country was founded, forces in the world have worked to undermine us, to destroy us, and they have devoted all their resources to that mission.
“For over two hundred years, America has preserved liberty and democracy, preserved our values and traditions against all these enemies, and we will continue to do so now, next year, and the year after and so on. The difference is that we have rarely been struck so hard, so close to home, and it was only the absolute, utter failure of the man currently in office as President that allowed us to be hit so hard. Mr. President, for two years I have urged you to tell the American people the truth about 9/11 so that we can make sure another event like that never happens again. For two years I have asked you to release all documents related to 9/11 and you have refused. I have asked it in private, as befits the classification you have given those documents, but the time for that is past. I urge you publicly to release those documents.”
“Mr. President?” Bob Schieffer, the moderator asked the sitting President who looked at my father with wide eyes for a long moment.
“Gosh, I don’t know quite what to say.” The President said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “I have released all relevant documents to the 9/11 commission and they clearly report that there was nothing I could have done to prevent the attacks on those days. The Senator is confused if he thinks this world is safer than the one we grew up in. The way he flip-flops on his senate votes, I guess that’s not a surprise.
“The truth is that we live in a more dangerous world with very bad people who want to destroy us, and I will fight each and every day to keep America safe.”
“If you don’t mind?” I asked the reporter with the remote, and he almost didn’t turn the volume down for a moment. Yep, this debate had gotten off to a fiery start already, and without the documents in those folders, my father might look like a deranged lunatic, fanatical in his hatred of a Republican President. Part of me wanted to see what would happen to the question on same-sex marriage, but then I already knew my father’s answer.
I’d helped to write it after all.
“The Senator is quite… vociferous in his attack on the President for 9/11.” The Wall Street Journal reporter said with a shake of his head. He’d been invited because he’d been more supportive of the President in several recent articles.
“Open that folder and find out why.” I said calmly, leaning back in my chair and resting my shaking hands on my stomach. All three of them opened their files and began reading through the documents inside.
“These are real?” The LA Times asked after barely thirty seconds.
“Everything in there can be verified.” I told him. He shook his head and went back to reading, turning pages silently. All three of them swore when they reached the third page. On the fourth page, the WSJ reporter was shaking his head.
“This is for real?” NYT asked me with disbelief clear in his voice.
“Yes.” I told him.
“How do you know the President knew all of this?” The WSJ asked with his own disbelief thick in his voice.
“The President himself didn’t see all of this.” I admitted. That was the weakest point in this little meeting. “We know, from statements by Condoleeza Rice and Dick Cheney that the President saw pages two, three, six, and seven. He was also advised of the content of page four, which was in a disk taken from my possession by the National Security Agency on orders of Ms. Rice.”
“How did you get this?” LA Times asked me as he held up the page with the names and locations of all the 9/11 hijackers.
“From a contact in Poland.” I explained without giving too many details. “I traveled there and got the disk before returning to the United States. While in customs, the disk was seized by force. Two NSA agents threatened me with immediate arrest if I didn’t turn it over. I later learned it was ordered by the National Security Adviser herself.”
“Can this be verified?” WSJ asked and I shrugged.
“The source of the information was picked up by CIA agents in December of 2002 and transferred to Egypt for two months. Then he was flown to Guantanamo and is still there today. He’s in complete isolation.”
“Wait, you’re saying the man who gave you information that would have allowed the arrest of all nineteen hijackers is being held incommunicado in Gitmo?” WSJ demanded. “I’m sorry, this is sounding like a bad conspiracy theory.”
“Here’s all the information I’ve been able to gather on that.” I said, handing out three more files from my briefcase.
“You know this is all classified information you’re divulging here.” NY Times stated after they had read through those files, making a lot of notes as they went along. “You could be arrested for revealing this.”
“According to the President of the United States, as you just heard a few minutes, there is no classified information on 9/11 that he has not released.” I said with a shrug. “Either he just lied to the American people on television, or these documents are fakes. I’ll let you and the American people decide.”
“Your father knew the President wouldn’t release those documents so he set this up.” WSJ asked with a hint of derision in his voice.
“My father does not know I’m meeting with you.” I informed him and could see the surprise on all their faces. “In fact, he has forbidden me from releasing this information. It’s a violation of the nation’s laws, and as much as he does not want to see the President re-elected, as much as he wants the people of this nation to know the truth about 9/11, my father will not break the law to do this. Therefore, I’ve taken things into my own hands.”
“Your father will pardon you if he’s elected, though, right?” LA Times asked and I shook my head.
“He… when we argued about this, he warned me about that.” I admitted with a shake of my head. My father was so stubborn about some things. “My father swore that if he was elected and I had released classified information, he would not pardon me. He told me ‘The laws of this nation are not something a man can ignore just because he is the President. The President is not a king, he must obey the law just as any other man.’ He means that too, and not with this silly back-handed crap Bush puts out.”
“What do you mean by that?” LA Times asked me with a raised eyebrow.
“The way the President signs a bill, but attaches a statement that he doesn’t have to follow the law if he doesn’t want to do that.” I said by example. “My father believes either something is the law of the land, or it is not. If it is, even the President must follow the law. If the law hinders the defense of this nation, he’ll try to change it with Congress, not just ignore it altogether.”
“Do you know about the telephone wiretaps?” NY Times asked me and I smiled, nodding slowly. The other two reporters just looked at us in confusion. “What does your father have to say about that?”
“Here are secret letters he sent the White House arguing the program is illegal and should be halted, along with another program.” I answered, handing out another folder.
“How much do you have in that briefcase?” WSJ asked with a frown.
“A few other things.” I answered with a shrug. “You’re really going to like the stuff on Iraq. You posted an article based on complete lies told to you by the administration.”
“You’re kidding!” He exclaimed. I shook my head and he just held out his hand.
Behind us, on the television, my father was busy berating the President for insulting his children. His gay children. I’d not see that until later, but it was a highlight of the debate, or so I was told. Pundits who would analyze the debate immediately after it was over would say that the President had won, mostly because of the ‘wild charges’ my father made in the opening comments.
As the debate drew to a close, and the three reporters were winding down on peppering me with questions, my phone went off, warning me it was time for me to head backstage. There were no protests, especially since all three had my phone number. I was surprised at the way they started talking as soon as I stood up. It sounded like they were going to write one collaborative article for each of their papers.
I made it in time to join my father, mother, sister (who looked wonderful in her Air Force uniform), her husband and daughter, Sean, Brandon, Brian and our two sons on the stage at the end of the debate. It was positively chilly as we moved to shake hands with the audience, the Bush family keeping to the other side of the room from us.
I’d missed the tirade of my father when the President made a veiled insult to my father’s parenting skills when asked about whether being gay was a choice or natural. The President’s statement had been “Some of the best psychologists say that homosexuality can be caused by poor parenting. I know my opponent has two gay children, maybe he can explain the question better.”
My father had responded with what the other side would call a tirade, but most people thought was pride and anger at being insulted. “My daughter commands a squadron of our nation’s deadliest fighters, she’s served four tours in the Middle East, and when our troops were sent into Iraq by this President, she was there running bombing missions. One of my sons has created medical equipment that is credited with saving thousands and thousands of lives, not just here in the Untied States, but across the world. My other son served with the U.N. Weapons Inspection Team that we now know did their job and rid Saddam Hussein of his arsenal of WMD’s. He’s also been credited as providing the intelligence information that led to the capture and execution of Osama Bin Ladin. In fact, the Director of the CIA publicly stated that without his assistance, Osama Bin Ladin would have escaped! Like any parent would be, I’m proud of my children, exactly as God made them, and I thank God every day for bringing them into my life!”
Part of me wanted to tell him what I had done while he was praising me, and part of me felt guilty about going against his wishes, but I was bound and determined that the truth would be known about 9/11. If he knew before the reporters had spoken with their editors, and told them the full scope of the information I’d passed to them, he’d try to silence them and I didn’t want that to happen. More than likely they’d call the White House for comment or verification, and they’d call my father’s campaign for comments, and he’d try to stop them at that point, but I believed by then the story would be too big to hold.
An hour later, my father was off to a campaign stop in Ohio, another battleground state. His running mate, New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson was going to be hitting Colorado next, and Brian and I were scheduled for two days of downtime back in Modesto. Then we were supposed to head to Oregon, but I seriously doubted my father would let me go once he knew.
“Hey bro, you heading home?” Jenny said to me as we waited for the charter plane to be brought out at the airport. My father’s campaign plane had already left, and we were holding at the same secure point for our plane. Once again, the Secret Service was a daily part of our lives, and they controlled our schedule as much as anyone.
“Yeah.” I said as I kept on eye on Richard and Kevin. The boys were old enough for Kindergarten, but would not start until January, after the election. It had been a tough decision, but Brian and I wanted them close.
“Did you do it?” Sean asked as he joined us. Our ‘spouses’ were talking idly to each other nearby.
“Yes.” I said with a sigh, and all of us drooped slightly.
“I should have done it.” My sister said at the same time as Sean.
“Bullshit.” I said to both of them. “Jenny, you have a career. You’re going to be a General one day and we both know that. Even if Dad wasn’t President.”
“As long as Bush isn’t still in charge.” Jenny said with a frown. “I almost got passed over this election cycle because the Secretary of Defense ‘lost’ the paperwork with my name on it.”
“I still could have…” Sean started but stopped under my glare. “I know, I know, I don’t have your credibility. Still, this sucks. Dad’s going to freak.”
“Just remember you didn’t know.” I reminded them and they nodded. The conversation lulled for a moment until Jenny began talking excitedly about some new assignment her squadron might be getting. The military things she spoke of would have interested me a lot at one time, but now they were just something to listen to that my sister cared about.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Returning home was both comforting and stressful. It was the busiest part of the campaign but I was suddenly cut off by Dad’s anger, and instead of helping with appearances or any myriad of details that come with a major national campaign, I was at home playing with the boys. Brian stayed with us, of course, but he was slightly distant, still angry with me for going ahead with this decision.
The media, and protestors, stationed outside the front gates of our house made me very glad the Secret Service was once again protecting my family. Even late at night, the shouts of ‘traitor’ could be heard from the more conservative side. Several were arrested each night when they pulled out bullhorns to shout those and worse words in the dead of night.
Brian watched the newscasts every night, but I couldn’t stand to do that. It was bad enough trying to explain to the boys why people were so mad at their dads, but we did the best we could to keep them from worrying. Our back patio was very much like the one at the house I’d grown up in, complete with swimming pool that the boys loved, but the Secret Service flat out demanded we stay inside the house.
“Davey, you need to see this.” Brian said four nights after the debate, and dragged me out of the boys’ playroom. Little Kevin just smirked at us, in a gesture that reminded me so much of Brian I wanted to grab the digital camera. Brian had a firm grip on me though, and dragged me to the living room where the big plasma screen was located. He’d used the Tivo to stop the broadcast, and I saw the familiar figure of my father. His hair was much more salt than pepper now, but he still looked strong, four years after he’d died in the original timeline.
“What is it, Brian?” I asked my lover and partner with a hurt tone. He knew I had a hard time dealing with the things my father had been saying. I knew how much he respected the law, the law was the only reason he had not revealed the classified information directly, and had forbidden me to do anything about it at all. Since I had broken that directive from him, he’d outright demanded that I be arrested for violating the law, filling out a complaint with the US Attorney General that I had violated various portions of U.S. code, specifically those dealing with the release or possession of classified information. He’d even filed theft charges for the documents I’d taken from his office.
“Just watch, love.” Brian assured me with a soft smile and by pulling me tight against him. We were just wearing jeans and t-shirts in the house. So far it had been a relatively mild winter here in California. Brian hit ‘play’ on the Tivo and the picture on the television began to move. Dad was in Toledo today, and this had been at one of his bigger campaign stops, where he spoke before a fairly large crowd. He favored brown and beige suits, even though they weren’t popular in Washington, and he was wearing one today.
“Much of the news this last week has been about the actions of my son on the night of the third presidential debate.” My father stated with a frown. Knowing how his speeches were written, this was at the end of his prepared speech, and thus meant to be the most important. “I love all my children, and while I believe his actions were wrong, I still love him with all my heart. It is unfortunate that he chose to violate this nation’s laws, and as I have shown since that night, I intend that he will pay the price for that action as set forth by our country’s judicial system.”
The crowd was unusually quiet as he paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath, and I felt a little thrill begin in the bottom of my spine. The boys silently entered the room, both of them wrapping their arms around one of my knees and watching their grandfather on television. When my father continued his speech, his voice boomed out loud.
“No one in this country is above the law!” My father thundered, thumping the podium for emphasis. “Not my son, not a single member of the House of Representatives, no Senator, nay, not even the Vice-President or President of the United States are above the laws of this great country of ours! We are a nation founded by great men, who stood up and said, in an era where the word of a King was law, that all men are created equal! They laid out a constitution, our constitution, that set forth the laws by which this nation shall be governed, and they made sure in writing that document that no man would be placed above the law. The Constitution is the Supreme Law of this land, and I am here today to remind all of us that no man is above that law.
“My son violated the laws of this nation, and he will pay the price for that violation, but that is not why I am upset here now, today. Since the day after the debate, the President and Vice-President of this country have stated unequivocally that the documents my son provided the news media were false, that they were not in the classified documents, and that they were complete forgeries. I have remained silent until now, neither confirming nor denying the authenticity of those documents because the President, in accordance with the laws of this nation, classified them. That ends here, and now.
“The President claims there are no classified documents that were not turned over to the 9/11 Commission.
“That is a lie.”
Even through the tears in my eyes, I could see the fury on my father’s face, and had to admit he had rarely looked more handsome, more commanding than at that moment. His arm was outstretched, finger pointing off the edge of the podium, and he paused for effect, bringing his hand back to the podium and turning a piece of paper. The audience was so quiet that we could hear the sound of birds chirping through the television. As my father blew out a breath, the camera panned some members of the crowd, looking up at him raptly, and when he audibly drew in a deeper breath, preparing to speak again, the camera shifted back to him.
“The President has assured the country that the documents my son provided to the press were forgeries, and last night he sent the FBI to my home, and to my offices to make sure that no one could prove otherwise. Putting aside the fact that not in over two hundred years has the executive branch of this country searched the official offices of a U.S. Senator, I find it interesting that they would do so to search for documents that do not exist.
“I am sorry, Mr. President, but these documents, the originals, that you searched for were not in my office. Since the morning after the debate, and your first denial that the documents were real, I have kept my copies and originals with me at all times. I feared something like this might happen, and I went to sleep each night since then praying it never would.”
“Ladies and gentlemen of the United States of America, you have a choice to make in eight days.”
Dad paused again, letting the calm tones he had spoken in drift over the audience, and they visibly shifted. The people behind him on the stage looked decidedly uncomfortable. This time as he spoke, he began softly and built towards a crescendo.
“I love my son, Davey, dearly.” My father’s voice was barely a whisper, and the tears in his eyes looked genuine. They weren’t really obvious, just a little bit more moisture there than normal, but the camera had zoomed in on him so his face filled the screen. Both of the boys were watching with rapt attention. “He always surprised me growing up, showing his intelligence, showing his love, his caring, and his compassion. As he grew older, I began to see a fire develop in him, a passion for doing the right thing, and while I do not agree or support his decision to break the laws of this nation in order to do the right thing, I will not deny that what he did was right. He did not do it to help me get elected, and even if I am elected, I promise you that he will face an unbiased court of law that will pass fair judgment on him for his breaking the law. Davey did what he did because he believed it to be right, and he did it knowing he could pay a severe penalty for his actions.
“Sometimes doing the right thing incurs a heavy price, and I tell you here and now that I am proud of my son for doing the right thing, no matter the cost to him, or to anyone else. It is an act of courage, of love; it is the action of a just person.
“Throughout his entire life, my son has dedicated himself to the service of this country in ways that I cannot openly discuss. It was this dedication that, in the days before 9/11, allowed him to come into possession of vital information. In the months before that horrible event, he and others had been warning me and the President that Al-Qaeda was planning a major attack on this country. These warnings went unheeded, ignored, and when my son returned to this country after a daring trip overseas, he had in his possession the names and safe-house locations of all nineteen 9/11 hijackers. It was his intent to provide this information to the CIA and the FBI, but he was met at the airport by agents of the National Security Agency who, on orders from the White House, took the information from him and locked it away.
“Instead of protesting the taking of the information, we urged the White House to look at the data and act on it. We did not care if they took all the credit, we only cared that they stop the impending attack. Even with the information we did not know the specific date of the attack, only that it was imminent, and so we woke on the morning of 9/11 not knowing our worst fears were about to be realized. On that day we cried, and we raged along with the rest of the nation, albeit with a little bit more bitterness towards those who could have stopped it but did not.
“Three days after 9/11, I was called to a private meeting with the Vice-President, where he expressed regret that they did not follow up on the information my son had provided. In that conversation, he told me they thought it was a political maneuver to divert the attention of the President from other business. He also expressed a belief that it was not time yet for the nation to know that we could have stopped the attacks. I was told, and agreed that at that moment, the most important thing was finding those who had planned, funded, and executed the attack. I believed that in those first days, along with the Administration, that our first priority was taking out Al-Qaeda, and I stand by that decision.
“It was agreed, though, that when 9/11 was investigated, as it had to be, all the information would be released.”
His voice nearly broke from the way those last words wormed their way through gritted teeth, and his distaste was clear.
“When the 9/11 Commission was formed, I began to petition, in sealed letters, that the information gathered by my son and others be fully released. The administration refused, stating it was not yet time, that with the situation in Iraq we could not afford the nation to be distracted by ‘old failures’. It was then, at that moment that I decided to run for President of the United States. I knew then, that these men who were holding the highest offices of our nation, were putting their political future ahead of the welfare of the nation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a decision to make. When we go into the voting booth, we will choose the future of this nation. I am just a man, not unlike most of you. My father owned a small grocery store in Phoenix, Arizona when I was a kid. I first entered public office in 1976, with barely two pennies to my own name. Since then I have struggled to do my best in the service of this country, and its people, and above all, its laws.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we must make a choice soon, we must decide the future of this nation and what type of leaders we want. I seek to serve, not to bring more power and wealth to my friends, and me but to lead this nation to a better place. I believe in truth, I believe in honor, and I believe in the rule of law, the principles upon which this country was founded.
“We must decide what kind of country we will leave for our children. Will we give them a country led by liars more interested in their own political power than in serving the people, or will we give our children leaders who will lead by example, who will keep on eye on creating a better future, a future where we are all truly created equal, where we live in a nation under which all of its people are subject to its laws, a future that is better than the present today!”
“Damn.” Brian said with a soft smile as he bent in to kiss me. I kissed him back, not even scolding him for cussing in front of the boys.
Way to go, Dad.
As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!
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