A Time for Patriots

The deputy grabbed Andorsen by the front of his jacket and tugged backward, and as soon as Andorsen resisted by pulling away, the deputy put one leg between Andorsen’s legs, shoved forward, and placed a toe behind Andorsen’s heel, tripping him. As the deputy fell on top of Andorsen, he made sure one knee was in Andorsen’s groin when they hit the ground. With Andorsen doubled up in pain and clutching his groin, it was easy for the deputy to holster his sidearm, grab a wrist, spin the man over on his stomach, wrestle the other wrist around, and snap handcuffs in place.

“Dispatch, Unit Five,” he radioed using his portable radio, breathing heavily, but more from excitement and adrenaline rush than exertion, “three in custody, Valmy Airport, notify FBI—”

And at that moment a black six-pack dually pickup truck raced up the dirt road toward the deputy, tires kicking up dirt and stones. It was followed by a Cadillac sedan. The dually screeched to a halt in a cloud of dust beside the police cruiser, the doors flew open, and six men jumped out and ran toward the deputy.

“Freeze!” the deputy shouted. He knelt next to Andorsen and again put a hand on his sidearm. “Humboldt County Sheriff’s Department making an arrest! All you men, get back in your truck, now !”

The six men stopped but did not retreat. “We’re right here, Mr. Andorsen,” one of the men said. “What do you want us to do?”

“Tell these men to raise their hands and back away,” the deputy ordered.

“Back on up, Teddy,” Andorsen said into the dust. The six men immediately stepped backward to their pickup, their eyes on the sheriff’s deputy and their boss the whole time.

“Dispatch, Unit Five, requesting backup, Valmy Airport,” the deputy radioed.

“Damn it, what do those guys think they’re doing?” Leo asked from the backseat of the deputy’s cruiser. “Were they trying to—”

“Holy shit!” Patrick said between clenched teeth. He looked over to the pickup… and noticed AR-15 assault rifles with sniperscopes being passed out from within the pickup, shielded from view. “Those guys have guns !”

“This is not good,” Leo whispered.

Patrick thought for a second, then shouted, “Judah, this is General Patrick McLanahan. Tell your men to put down their rifles.”

The sheriff’s deputy leaped to his feet, dashed around the nose of the helicopter, drew his sidearm, pointed it toward the six men, and shouted, “Show me your hands! Now!”

In a flash, the six men spread out about six yards apart from one another and dropped to the ground. Patrick counted four AR-15 rifles pointed at the deputy. These guys looked professional all the way, he thought. “I think it’s your turn to drop your weapon and show us your hands, Deputy,” the man named Teddy shouted.

Three

If you will just start with the idea that this is a hard world, it will all be much simpler.

— Louis D. Brandeis, U.S. Supreme Court justice

Valmy, Nevada

“Are they crazy ?” Leo said. “They’re drawing down on a sheriff’s deputy!”

During this time, the Cadillac had pulled up to the scene, and a lone, short, balding man in a gray business suit got out and walked toward the helicopter, unbuttoning and then removing his jacket. “Freeze!” the deputy shouted.

The newcomer dropped his jacket to the ground and raised his hands. “I’m not armed, Deputy,” he said in a remarkably calm voice. “My name is Harold Cunningham, and I am Mr. Andorsen’s attorney and counsel.” He looked up into his right hand, in which he was holding a cell phone. “I’m expecting a call from Sheriff Martinez, District Attorney Cauldwell, and County Commissioner Blane any minute now, Deputy, and you’ll be receiving a call from the sheriff explaining what this is all about.”

“You just stay where you are and keep your hands where I can see them!” the deputy shouted back.

“Unit Five,” came the message from the deputy’s portable radio.

The deputy keyed the mike button on his left shoulder: “Dispatch, Unit Five, three in custody, holding seven at gunpoint, repeat, seven, multiple weapons visible, request immediate backup, covers Code Three.” His voice was clearly fearful.

“Five, this is Sheriff Martinez,” came a different voice on the channel. “Mark, relax. This is all a big fat mix-up by the feds. That’s Judah Andorsen you got there.”

“Sir, I’ve got four guys with rifles and two with handguns aimed at me,” the deputy radioed back to the obviously known person on the radio.

“They’re Mr. Andorsen’s security guys,” Martinez replied. “The feds have got everybody believing we’ve got terrorists running amok in Humboldt County. Just relax.”

“I’ll relax as soon as these motherfuckers lower their guns, sir,” the deputy named Mark radioed.

“I’m on my way out there now, son,” Martinez radioed. “Just don’t do anything until I get there.”