It rained again all day that Monday. Not a hard rain. It just sort of pissed all day. The clouds lay low over the city. Now and again came the low rumble of thunder. The Monday rightwing talk shows were ravenous over the number of people attending Obama’s campaign kick-off speech at Ohio State university. Rush Limbaugh was positively apoplectic. Angelo had the radio on as he sat in the car down the block from Jack and Eva Murphy’s.
RUSH: …And the upper deck is empty. Twenty thousand people is the capacity, and I think there were just over 10,000 people there. “According to the Toledo Blade, the venue for Obama’s rally seats 20,000 but ‘there were a lot of empty seats.’ Comparatively, Obama drew a crowd of 35,000 at Ohio State when he campaigned for former Governor Ted Strickland in 2010.”
Two years ago, he drew 35,000. Now he barely draws ten or 11,000!…They’re stuck… We’re kinda chuckling at this crowd — or lack of a crowd — for Obama’s “official” announcement that he’s seeking reelection. But, folks, this says something pretty important about the campaign…*
Even Angelo was suspicious of the story. He brought up a photo of the event on his phone, from Rumproast.com, and yet another from Getty Images, noting an Ohio State trooper at the entrance to the empty upper deck. Not one of the fourteen thousand in attendance strayed up there for a better vantage point or photo opportunity? He turned the radio down. Left or Right, talk radio amounted to little more than echo chambers to their constituencies. It was political vaudeville and a slight of hand to the gullible and easily led, while history was manipulated in the shadows. For those unwilling to defend and assert their rightful demand for a transparent and open democracy, reality was the greatest of all illusions.
The press and public would seize very soon upon an invented narrative about Jack Murphy, while the reality was part of a very real and very purposeful effort none of them, if Angelo did his job correctly, would ever know. On the car seat beside him were more nails in Jack’s proverbial coffin, props to the very real destruction of a human being. He would be a pariah, his name infamous and filling headlines that were, in fact, pure fabrication and not at all reality. It begged the effort of what reality was. Was it Jack’s evolving, and as yet unrealized reality; the one that would destroy him and his family? Was reality the conspiracy behind all that, the one that Tom and Jeremy Koffer constructed and Angelo put into motion?
Angelo waited until the street was clear then pulled the hood over his head and climbed from the car with a small bundle under his arm. The house was at the end of a cul de sac, and shrouded with bushes and small trees. Angelo went up the walk to the side door hidden completely from view. The lock mechanism was simple and he picked it easily. As the door swung open the patter of a large dogs long claws on the tiled floors gave Angelo a start, but old Morris lumbered up to him and laid submissively on the floor a few feet away.
“Good boy,” Angelo whispered with relief. He patted the pooch on the head with a gloved hand as he passed.
It only took a few very short minutes. In the tank behind the toilet in the downstairs bathroom he placed a sealed baggie of nearly 18 ounces of Methamphetamines. Upstairs in Jack’s still unorganized office Angelo placed three thousand dollars in small denominations in a book from a small reference bookshelf. In a large potted plant in the front room he completed the picture with a loaded pistol and a cellphone holding the numbers of several local massage parlors. With that, he slipped out of the house, leaving it precisely as he’d found it. Looking up and down the street, he went casually to his car, climbed in and was gone.