So there were, indeed, some men who worked in the school. But the only one shot was James Swan, the janitor. Thiery tried to accept it was just a numbers thing; the ratio of men to women was such that it was logical more women would be shot. But, as he left the school and walked back to the church that the authorities were using as the command centre, he couldn’t let it go. Did the shooters have a problem with women? Were they men who hated their mothers and decided to make these women pay for their angst? Did they come home one day, as he and his sons had, to find their wives or mothers gone?
Governor Croll was pontificating to the media as Thiery arrived at the church.
‘ … as we send these special people – our friends, family, co-workers, protectors, and teachers of our children – to be with God, we must reaffirm our intent to never let this happen again.’ He banged his fist on the podium to accentuate his message. ‘I say we do not allow these people to die in vain. Let’s utilize their … ultimate sacrifice to make our schools, our communities, and our lives safer. I’ve been on the phone today with governors from around this great nation, and with the President, and there is a groundswell of support for this community, and for newer, tougher laws to protect innocent citizens from harm. Please stand with us and help make the changes we need in order to protect our children and our children’s children. Be safe, be strong, be better. Thank you, and may God bless and keep you.’
A moving speech until Thiery remembered the last line, ‘Be safe, be strong, be better,’ had been used as Croll’s campaign slogan. That was all he was doing: campaigning. Thiery wondered what the governor’s NRA backers would think of him now. He’d previously run on a platform of protecting Second Amendment rights and, by so doing, had amassed an unprecedented campaign war chest. While he had not said the words ‘gun control’ in his speech, he was certainly suggesting it. This, coming from a governor whose first order of business was to walk a bill through legislation called the Stand Your Ground Law, allowing ‘ … Florida residents to justifiably use force in self-defence when there is reasonable belief of an unlawful threat, without an obligation to retreat first … ’ Now, here he was, suggesting just the opposite. What a chameleon, thought Thiery.
Croll stepped off the dais, but continued to address the barrage of cameras stuck in his face. As he spoke, he saw Thiery standing nearby and waved him over.
‘This is Special Agent Justin Thiery,’ the governor announced to the hungry media, ‘from the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. He will be taking over as lead in this most important investigation. Police Chief George Dunham and Sheriff Conroy have done an excellent job responding to this community’s emergency needs today and coordinating the initial command. But,’ he continued, ‘as this tragedy affects so many people in nearby communities, and there are a myriad of law enforcement agencies involved, I felt it in the best interest of justice for the investigation to be placed under one umbrella. One directly under my personal supervision, and so the FDLE will be that lead. Agent Thiery?’
Thiery shot a quick glance toward the police chief from nearby Sebring and hoped the governor had given him some notice before pulling the rug out from under him. He was a smaller man, maybe hitting five foot seven with his work shoes on, a ring of premature grey hair nesting around an otherwise bald head. He appeared even smaller in his oversized uniform, though he kept it sharply pressed and neat. Next to him was a tall man with thick, dark hair on his head and arms; the latter were crossed as if he were angry. The five o’clock shadow on his massive jaw looked as if it had been drawn by a cartoonist. His eyes were black and glinted in the media lights, as did the huge gold badge and name tag on his formidable chest. Thiery could barely make out the man’s name: Sheriff A. Conroy.
Thiery looked over at Dunham. Rather than indignation, Thiery thought he spied relief. He could almost see him sigh and was, once again, mindful of stepping on a fellow law enforcement officer’s toes. He approached and extended his hand. Dunham took it and gripped Thiery’s huge paw with a ferocity that quietly said, I’m glad you’re here.
Conroy jutted his chin up, but did not extend his hand. Thiery could feel the turf protection and accompanying resentment from him, big time.
‘Thank you, Chief Dunham,’ said Thiery. ‘I’ve been inside the school, and it looks like your men did a very thorough job.’ He said it loud enough for the reporters around them to hear. The short, balding, and oh-so-humble police chief nodded, accepting the affirmation. Thiery fielded questions from several reporters before finally ending with, ‘I still need to meet personally with Chief Dunham and his officers, the Calusa County’s Sheriff Deputies, and several other involved agencies. The FDLE will be collating all the information from each of the very professional departments that responded today to assess what we know and what we need to learn to move forward with this investigation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have considerable work to do.’
Thiery stepped away from the crowd, and Croll immediately grabbed him by the elbow and ushered him to the side as reporters, still ravenous for some sound bites, lighted on Chief Dunham. Thiery watched as Dunham was forced to struggle through a few more questions about what he first saw, what his officers first saw, what they thought was happening, et cetera. Thiery thought the police chief held up well for a man who had been on his feet for twelve hours.
Conroy stepped over, obligatorily, and said, ‘I’m Sheriff Conroy,’ and handed his card to Thiery. There was a lump in his lower lip where he held a chaw of tobacco that made his teeth brown and syrupy looking.
‘Did you …’ began Thiery, but Conroy held up his paw like a STOP sign.
‘We’ve just been supplying the manpower. It was my SWAT that came in but all the vics and perps were down by then and we didn’t fire a shot. The little chief over there was first on the scene and that’s why he has command.’
Thiery took the hint. He didn’t have the patience or the temperament to come down here, sort through a mass tragedy with all its witnesses, reports, media, and evidence collection, and deal with some cowpoke cop’s ego. He’d be professional and polite, but work around the man whenever circumstances allowed.
‘Hey there, Alton,’ said a voice from behind Thiery. ‘Sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk earlier.’
‘Understood, Governor Croll,’ said Conroy, smiling for the first time, though it looked painful for him to do so.
‘You’ve met Agent Thiery, then?’
‘Uh, yeah. More or less. I was just tellin’ him, we wish we’d handled more of this, but it was, unfortunately, over by the time we got here and sent in our SWAT.’
‘Understood,’ said Croll. ‘Well, sooner or later we’ll get the county consolidated. It only makes sense, right? Need to have everyone under one umbrella with one strong leader, right? It’s a waste of resources to keep all these ma and pa departments separate. Taxpayers won’t stand for it anymore.’ He stopped and looked around as if to see if anyone was listening to him. ‘Can’t believe it’s happened here. I would’ve thought if one of these events happened in Florida, it would’ve been in Miami. How are Janine and the girls?’
‘They’re fine, thanks,’ said Conroy. ‘Oldest is married, now, and the youngest is a junior up at UF. I’m glad they’re not around here for this. Both of them used to go here when this town used to be a nice, quiet place. Now, we can barely keep up with the ghetto people moving in, people making meth in their garages.’
‘Yes, it’s a shame,’ Croll added dolefully. ‘You let Agent Thiery know if you or your men need anything. He has direct access to me. Now, where is my car? I’ve got to get gone.’
Croll and Conroy shook hands and Conroy drifted off, back