Final Notice, page 28
The shaking had stopped. His head was clear. He knew who he was and that guns were not the answer. He returned home, went in, let Miles out, and sat down on the back porch. Miles lay down by his side and got all the head scratches he wanted. Well, almost all.
***
The next day, Trudi picked up Rasha and went to see Ms. Jackson. They knew something was wrong when they arrived and, after politely greeting them both, Ms. Jackson asked to see Rasha privately. When the door opened again, a teary-eyed Rasha strode out. She had been fired. On their way to Rasha’s, Trudi tried to get her to open up but Rasha remained quiet. When they arrived, Trudi asked if she could come over tomorrow. She had an idea.
***
CHAPTER 31 – THE PLAN
Pasadena, California. Trudi went to see Dr. Krishnan. She was compassionate but didn’t beat around the bush. Trudi had early Stage III breast cancer in her left breast. They would need to do some additional testing but since she had annual exams, Dr. Krishnan hoped they had caught it before it spread. If that was the case, the worst outcome was a total mastectomy followed by radiation and chemotherapy. She added that as scary as that all sounded, the long-term prognosis was very good.
Dr. Krishnan told her that it was important to start the process as soon as possible but in this situation that meant a week or two. Trudi told her that she would get back with her soon. She wasn’t unnerved by the news. The way things were going, she more or less expected it. Her next stop was to see Rasha. Jack was home but he was playing outdoors with a toy truck, so she and Trudi watched him through the window as they talked.
Trudi explained Vince’s situation and her own. Rasha was beside herself with grief. Here was both her very best friend and her friend’s husband facing death! It made her current employment problems seem insignificant. She would do anything to help. But how?
Trudi presented her plan to Rasha. She articulated her very strong desire to make a contribution that would benefit others, but she needed Rasha’s help. She emphasized that it would not jeopardize Rasha’s own safety but was important to carry out the plan. Her belief that Rasha would be safe turned out to be very naive, but Trudi truly believed it at the time. She made Rasha promise that she would steadfastly claim that she knew none of the details of this plan, but simply went along as a friend to have fun. Because of her strong affection for Trudi, as well as her own recent experiences, Rasha jumped at the chance to help, although it did not make her happy knowing that it might be her last chance to do so. Listening to Trudi’s plan, she remained committed but had grave doubts about success.
When Trudi returned home, she asked Vince if she and Rasha could use the NRA tickets and would he pay for airfares and a hotel for both of them. Vince couldn’t help but smile that she and Rasha wanted to go.
“I thought you hated the NRA and the NRA has cost Rasha her job?”
Trudi knew she couldn’t completely lie her way out of this, so she professed to come clean, explaining that they wanted to attend the convention and then hold up signs to protest what it stood for. There would probably be TV coverage and it would give them a chance to make a statement before they were removed. Hopefully, they could talk with the press, too.
Vince laughed and gave her a hug. “My old Berkeley girl. Sure. If that makes you happy, no problem. When is it?”
Trudi hugged him back, “Friday.” She felt badly about lying and about dying. Her plan might work and might also save him the anguish of helping her through surgeries, radiation and chemo. An even worse outcome was that he might not be around too long if the rabies shots didn’t help.
Vince booked their flights and hotel, using his old “mileage points” from his travelling days. He also played around with his VT2 App by changing the Final Notice period to 10 days. It was exciting to see the Notice actually disappear. Then he set it for 20 days and it reappeared. It also triggered a call from Dr. Parker. Vince explained what he had done and apologized for the false alert. Parker asked how he was and about his regimen of shots and Vince told him that he actually felt a little calmer and that he was due to see Dr. Malindra for a follow-up tomorrow.
Trudi spent a lot of time with Rasha over the next couple of days discussing plans and researching information on Trudi’s iPad.
***
Vince dropped Trudi and Rasha off at LAX, Terminal 3, before continuing to Huntington Hospital to see Dr. Malindra. The women had arrived in plenty of time, as security line waits could take an hour or more. Trudi decided to not take any chances with getting her special necklace for the occasion to Virginia, so she checked it in along with her baggage. She hoped Vince wouldn’t open the gun vault. Vince had printed their boarding passes and, after dropping off their checked bags, they entered the TSA security line.
It was a fairly light day and they reached the baggage and body scanner in less than 20 minutes. Rasha went through first and set off the buzzers. A female TSA agent asked her to step to the side and scanned her body with a handheld wand. The agent began the scan from the back of Rasha’s head down her back and the wand buzzed wildly. Rasha unfolded a document and handed it to the agent who read it, thanked her and finished her scan, albeit with less intensity. Trudi followed without setting anything off.
They had extra time now, so they stopped at Starbucks for a coffee for Trudi and tea for Rasha. They were both excited but nervous about their trip. Virgin America flight 108 boarded through gate 31 and they settled into their seats for the almost five-hour journey to Dulles International Airport, just outside of Washington DC. Trudi tried to sleep but couldn’t and decided to pass the time watching The Pink Panther. It always made her laugh, and it did again on this occasion, although not quite so much. Rasha read the Study Guide for the U.S. Citizenship Test, although there were still two to three years before they could reach the point of taking the test. She had already read a few other books to help her prep and the fact that she could read English was a big advantage.
The time passed quickly, and they arrived at Washington Dulles Airport on time, seemingly sooner than they thought. Vince had once again donated some of his hoard of Marriott points from his travelling days, and they were booked into the Washington Dulles Marriott Suites Hotel in Herndon, Virginia. The hotel was in a small shopping center with many restaurant choices. When they checked in, the agent told Trudi that they had received a large package and it was in their room. The two friends were tired but stretched their legs with a brief walk and grabbed a light dinner at a nearby Turkish restaurant. Rasha assured Trudi that the food was not authentic, but that the waiter was, and the meal was satisfactory.
The following morning, they woke up late, as their body clocks were three hours off. Their suite had a small dining area, so they ordered breakfast from room service in order to discuss their plans in private. Trudi repeated again the promise she had exacted from Rasha earlier, that Rasha knew nothing about Trudi’s plan and had no idea how she had smuggled a gun into the NRA event. They had gone over the plan often, and this discussion was simply a repeat of the others.
They had the whole day to themselves, so they booked an Uber cab and went into DC to see the nation’s capital. It was a beautiful day, so they decided to take a Hop-On, Hop-Off double-decker bus tour. In one-and-a-half hours they could see the White House, U.S. Capitol, Washington Monument, FDR Memorial, Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial, Lincoln Memorial, World War II Memorial, Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Korean War Veteran's Memorial and the Supreme Court of the United States ... but they had time, so they used the hop-off, hop-on option to explore a bit more. Rasha was enthralled with DC and Trudi had only been there once before, many years ago. It was the perfect activity to keep from thinking about the evening’s task, and the day was so magnificent that Trudi truly enjoyed it.
Back at the hotel, they showered and got ready for the big NRA function. Just as they had practiced, Rasha strapped the gun onto her inner thigh, using the holster that Trudi bought (unbeknownst to Vince) but now modified expertly with a Velcro thigh belt that she had made. Rasha wore a thin head cover that was much more a fashion statement than religious apparel. Trudi carefully unwrapped her special necklace – a “biker chick” piece of jewelry made entirely of real bullets – and placed it around her neck. It was heavy but strangely comforting. Nervous but committed, the dynamic duo set off in an Uber taxi for the 25-minute drive to the NRA headquarters. The driver didn’t comment about the empty folding wheelchair that they carried.
When they arrived, Rasha helped Trudi, who “miraculously in reverse” became handicapped, into the wheelchair that the driver retrieved from the trunk. They joined the sizeable number of people attending, most of whom appeared to be seniors. As they reached the entrance, they realized that part of their planning was incorrect, and they smiled at each other as they entered the building without going through a metal detector. The only control was collecting the tear-off stub of their invitations.
As they made their way to the ladies’ room, they were a bit startled to see a number of people openly carrying guns. Even though this was NRA HQ, they had never seen guns openly flaunted like this. When they came out, after loading the clip with the live ammo from the bullet necklace and transferring the gun to Trudi’s purse, they observed the crowd – possibly numbering a few hundred. Waiters were openly carrying, too, but only champagne, juices and canapés, which were being gobbled up by the mostly older crowd. Trudi was tempted to ask for a glass of champagne but decided it wasn’t a good idea. Besides, celebrations should be for successful operations, so she could wait. They looked into the large auditorium and noted with smiles of satisfaction that there was an open area for wheelchairs at the front, near the stage. A number of people had begun to sit down near the front, so Rasha slowly wheeled Trudi down to the wheelchair area.
They chose a spot at the very front next to a young man in a wheelchair who looked almost sedated, staring straight ahead. A woman who might have been his mother was seated next to him in one of the folding chairs provided for attendants. Trudi and Rasha smiled politely to acknowledge them, then Rasha locked Trudi’s wheels and brought a chair over for herself. Being in the front meant they had to turn around to gauge the progress of the room filling up, which made them directly face people looking toward the front. They didn’t like that, so they looked straight ahead or glanced sideways, but avoided making eye contact with each other. Trudi was enormously grateful for the risk that Rasha was taking; and Rasha, in turn, admired Trudi’s bravery.
Small talk between them seemed absurd at this point so they both went into their own thoughts, hopes, regrets and fears as they passed the time. Trudi was nervous and fearful in ways different from Rasha. She was afraid of failure, afraid of pain if she were shot, afraid of jail, and afraid of staying alive to face her own health issue on her own. Rasha was afraid that she would be caught and that she wouldn’t see Jack or Qasim again; that she would be deported. She wasn’t afraid of getting shot. But both were unwavering in their hatred of the NRA and what the NRA had done and wanted to do ... all for the sake of greed. And for both, the wait seemed an eternity.
The steady flow of people entering the auditorium must have slowed to a trickle and an announcement was made for everyone to please take their seats. A number of younger-looking, casually dressed men took positions around the back and sides of the stage perimeter in front of a backdrop reading NRA CELEBRATES 1 MILLION ARMED SENIORS. Some wore shoulder holsters over their casual shirts. Trudi could also see a gun in the waistband of one of the men, standing sideways to her.
The lights in the seating section dimmed a bit and a spotlight illuminated the podium. A young woman stepped to the podium and the large screen backdrop changed to: “Betty Lou Harris, Vice President-Public Relations, National Rifle Association.”
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen and good evening, seniors!” The audience clapped and whooped a bit. “We’re here tonight to celebrate the millionth senior to buy a gun under our NRA Armed Senior program. We appreciate that aging isn’t easy; in fact, some say, getting old isn’t for sissies!” She paused for a laugh and applause. “But we say, ‘Never fight if you can avoid it, but when you must fight, Don’t Lose!’ ” Cheering and clapping ensued.
“I want to introduce a good friend of the NRA and by extension, a good friend of yours. A man who fights to protect our constitution and protect against liberal actions to take away our guns. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Dave Pratt, United States Representative for Virginia.”
The caption on the large screen changed to “Dave Pratt, U.S. Representative for the State of Virginia,” as a smartly dressed man walked rapidly to the podium. There was a good round of applause, but Trudi didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying as she slowly unzipped her purse and wrapped her hand around the surprisingly cold gun hidden inside. She switched off the safety as she had practiced many times over, ensuring that her finger stayed outside the trigger guard. She focused on her task; stay focused, aim, squeeze slowly and repeat. Finally, she heard him say that he was “pleased and honored to introduce a man he had known for a long time, a good friend and a good friend of Americans, Dwayne LaPlant.”
The screen changed to, “Dwayne LaPlant, Executive Vice President-Marketing, National Rifle Association.” LaPlant strode confidently to the podium as the audience stood up and gave him a tremendous hand. Trudi had a clear shot, and this was a time they had discussed that might provide an excellent opportunity. Waiting until he reached the podium, she reached out with her left hand, and concealed by her chair, gave Rasha’s right hand a firm squeeze, never taking her eyes off LaPlant. Then she slowly pulled the gun from her purse and began to lift up her arm when one of the casually dressed men on stage shouted, “SHOOTER!” and drew his gun, aiming it at Trudi.
Seeing this, Rasha grabbed the back of Trudi’s wheelchair and pulled it over backwards just as the shooter on stage pulled the trigger. His shot ricocheted off one of the steel footplates of the overturned wheelchair, hitting the young man in the wheelchair next to them. Blood spurted from his leg, which seemed to jolt him into action, and he reached under his seat and pulled out a gun, firing back and hitting the shooter on stage. Another shooter on stage fired back but missed the young man and hit someone else in the audience. The young man returned the shot and others joined in. Rasha held Trudi down, scooped up the gun and put it back into Trudi’s open purse.
Gunshots rang out all over the auditorium amidst screams and yelling, and it seemed like many minutes passed before a loudspeaker announcement demanded that “EVERYONE CEASE FIRE!” A final shot was heard as the announcement stopped and full lighting came on. Rasha righted Trudi’s chair and helped her resettle into it. They could see a number of people sprawled out on stage and a lot of screaming and yelling in the audience. The guy who shot at Trudi was down along with some others, and there were a number of people kneeling down and helping a person or persons near the podium. The young man next to them had been wounded again, in addition to the ricochet shot. But he was smiling.
Someone on stage made an announcement that everyone who was not injured should slowly move to the side aisles and make their way out of the auditorium, to allow paramedics to attend the wounded. Before leaving the building, everyone would be interviewed by the police who would be asking for identification, contact details, the main section of their invitation, and their Row and Seat number ... “so please make a note of it before you leave your seat.” Also, their guns would be taken from them for ballistic tests.
Stretchers were brought out onto the stage and a number of staff lifted two men in suits onto the first two stretchers. They were Dave Pratt and Dwayne LaPlant.
It took a long time before Trudi and Rasha arrived for their interviews. On their way out, Rasha said to Trudi in an exaggerated voice, “It seemed like the man on stage shot the young man next to us, so I pushed over your chair to get you out of the line of fire. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” In fact, Rasha’s quick action undoubtedly saved Trudi’s life. When that first shot ricocheted off the footplate, she hadn’t taken in what happened. There was a loud ping sound followed by the dull thud of the bullet hitting the young man next to her. When she looked over at the footplate of the overturned chair, she could see that it was about the same height as Trudi’s mid-section or chest would have been.
Trudi looked back and said with a smile, “Yes, that’s what seemed to happen, and thank you.” When Trudi was interviewed and asked if she had a gun, she took her gun out of her purse and gave it to the female police officer. The officer asked if she had a concealed carry permit. Trudi answered honestly, “No I don’t. I didn’t think I needed one in Virginia.” The officer was wearing gloves and looked at the gun, smelled it and said, this hasn’t been fired, has it?” When Trudi confirmed that, the officer said that they would need to check it anyway and that she would get it back within a week if it didn’t match any bullets. She also said that Trudi might need to respond to a complaint for carrying a gun without a concealed carry permit. She could be charged with a misdemeanor. The officer then ran a wand over Trudi to check for any additional weapons, and finding none, thanked her and said good night.
