that wouldn’t happen.
Virgil, Shrake, and Jenkins walked past a line of sheriff’s cars on the way back to Virgil’s truck, and when they passed Duke, who was standing with a Guard officer and a couple of deputies, Duke said, “You’re starting to seriously piss me off.”
Virgil said, “You think so? Wait about an hour.” And he continued down the road.
Duke called after him, “What’re you going to do?”
Virgil called back, “Fuck you.”
By the time the crime-scene crew arrived, the town was full of cop cars, but no media trucks, because the media had been blocked out, not allowed across the Mad River bridge at the north end of town, and kept a half mile back from the road leading in from the south.
When it became clear that the cops weren’t going to allow them in-at least not right away-they’d gathered by the north bridge, and that’s where Virgil went, with Shrake and Jenkins trailing behind in Jenkins’s car. The bridge was blocked by a deputy in a Bare County sheriff’s car, and Virgil waved him out of the road. He backed up, and Virgil and Jenkins went on through, to the cluster of media vans and cars that backed up down the road.
Virgil pulled over and got out, and reporters hurried down toward him, and Shrake stepped close and said, “Bad idea, dude.”
Virgil said, “I know. I’m gonna do it anyway.”
The first reporters came up and Virgil said, “I’ve got a statement. I’ve got a statement as soon as you guys are ready.”
A newspaper guy yelled, “What happened down there?”
Virgil: “Wait for the cameras.”
They were all set up and spaced out in five minutes, and Virgil said, “Okay,” and stepped out in the middle of the road, and he said, “This is going to be a very short statement, and doesn’t represent any state authority at all. It’s just me.”
Everything had gone absolutely quiet, except for a couple of whirring machine sounds coming from a truck. Virgil went on.
“Becky Welsh and Jimmy Sharp were just ambushed and killed by Bare County sheriff’s deputies, at the Mad River bridge on the south end of Arcadia. Welsh had contacted me by phone and offered to surrender. I called Sheriff Lewis Duke for backup, and arranged to meet Welsh and Jimmy Sharp at the convenience store in Arcadia, along with sheriff’s deputies. This was the store that Becky Welsh held up a couple days ago.
“While we were waiting there, Sheriff Duke, without informing me or the other state agents, set up an ambush at the Mad River bridge on the south end of town. When Welsh and Sharp appeared, sheriff’s deputies opened fire with automatic weapons and killed both of them, without warning. We have not at this point found any guns in the truck, nor did Welsh or Sharp offer any sign of resistance: I was there to see it. It’s possible, from what Welsh told me on the telephone, that Sharp was unconscious when he was killed. Sheriff’s deputies fired what I believe to have been at least a hundred rounds through the truck. Welsh and Sharp were torn to bits by the heavy volume of gunfire.
“In my opinion, this was a carefully planned execution that was tantamount to murder. If it were up to me, I would arrest Sheriff Duke and his deputies for murder, but that won’t be up to me. I also believe that there was another person involved in all these killings over the last few days, and Welsh and Sharp would have been critical witnesses to that. Because of Duke’s actions, a cold-blooded killer here in Bare County may very well go untouched by the law.”
He stopped talking for a moment, and was met by total silence.
Then he said, “That’s all I’ve got to say,” and the screaming started.
With the reporters screaming at him, and as Virgil turned away, he thought the noise was probably audible all the way to the other end of town, where Duke sat in his car, looking down at the death truck.
Virgil walked back to his 4Runner. Jenkins was leaning against the door, grinned at him, and said, “Good show. But better you than me.”
Shrake said, “You got some balls, buddy.”
Virgil said, “Let’s go get a cheeseburger. I’m gonna need my strength.”
24
The satellite uplinks put the news of the shooting into the Cities within ten minutes, and every station in the state broke into their early-morning broadcasts to relay it. The video of Virgil was right behind that, and further video of Duke was ten minutes behind that.
Duke was uncharacteristically somber at the beginning of the press conference, and he lied like a motherfucker: “Gave us no alternatives. . turned the truck at deputies on the side of the road, accelerated toward them. . we weren’t planning to ambush them. We wanted to make sure we closed the gate behind them, so whatever happened in town, they wouldn’t get away to kill more people. . We’ll cooperate with any investigation. . proud of my men and what they accomplished today.”
Ruffe Ignace yelled, “What’d they accomplish? The state agents arrested McCall, and they would have arrested Sharp and Welsh if you hadn’t killed them.”
Duke raised his voice to say, “Unless they opened up on the people waiting in town. .”
“With what? They didn’t have any guns.”
“We didn’t know that,” Duke said. “They sure had enough guns during the last week. What were we supposed to do, wait until they opened fire on my men? Get some more people killed?”
It went rapidly downhill from there. Virgil, Shrake, and Jenkins watched reruns on the television in the motel lobby, along with a bunch of other guests who’d gathered around the television.
“You know what bothers me?” Shrake asked.
“Nothing,” Virgil said.
“That’s not true. I’m a very sensitive individual. What bothers me is, you could see the TV people pulling for a shoot-out. If you’d just arrested them and slapped them in jail. . what fun is that? They were a hundred percent in favor of a shoot-out. So then they got it, exactly what they wanted, and then they turn on the sheriff like a bunch of wolves. Now they’re like, ‘Oh, we’re all protecty about, you know, the right to a trial and innocent until proved guilty, blah blah blah.’”
“The sheriff deserves a bunch of wolves,” Virgil said.
“We’re gonna have to agree to disagree about that,” Shrake said. “I think those kids got pretty much what they deserved.”
“It’s not about the kids,” Virgil said. “It’s about us.”
“Aw,” Shrake said. “Poor little kids.”
Virgil said, “So you would have gunned them down.”
“They give me any excuse, damn right I would,” Shrake said.
“But that’s the point-they didn’t give them an excuse,” Virgil said. “They threw away the guns, called ahead, and were coming in to surrender. So you would have stood in the ditch and blown them up with a machine gun?”
Shrake sighed and said, “No, I guess not. Any excuse, though. .”
Virgil said, “Attaboy.”
But then a thin, gray-faced old man in a tan button-front farmer shirt and green Sears work pants stepped over to Virgil, poked a finger at his chest, and said, “I saw you on TV. You’re an asshole.”
“Thank you for your support,” Virgil said.
Davenport called and said, “Henry-I mean, they’re gonna have to send in an environmental clean-up team to hose out his office.” Henry Sands was the BCA director, a recent political appointee. “And Rose Marie is madder than a hornet. You’re gonna take some shit.”
