30
Euclid raised her arms as a young deputy with curly blond hair—couldn’t have been more than twenty-four years old—slipped a heavy bulletproof vest over her head. He was handsome, sporting a crooked nose that looked like it had once been broken.
“Is this really necessary?” Euclid chuckled nervously.
“Better to not want it and have it than need it and not have it.” He smiled at her reassuringly, squeezing her arm. “You’re gonna do great.”
He handed her a ballistic helmet, and Euclid clipped it under her chin, feeling a little like a toddler in oversized clothing as it slipped down over her forehead. Now outfitted, she took a seat in a plush office chair in the corner of the Eagle County Sheriff’s Office.
A team had been assembled at the behest of District Attorney Adewale to execute the arrest of Margie Brooksfield. It was four thirty in the morning and still dark, the eastern sky just edging into a shade of dark gray that signaled approaching daybreak.
The request for Margie to turn herself in, made to her attorney, Caldas, had been ignored. Euclid could guess why: Caldas wanted a scene of her client’s arrest that would make a big splash in the news. It would be a way to take control of the narrative, but even more so to create a spectacle with many opportunities for law enforcement to make missteps that could then be used in court. The goal was, therefore, to effectuate an uneventful and smooth arrest. The team had been carefully picked and was comprised of the primary arrest officer—Sheriff Colcord—along with Agent Cash, six backup officers, a media-coordinating officer, and aweapons specialist. Paul Brooksfield was a gun owner, after all, and who knew how he would react.
Adewale had asked Euclid to accompany the arrest team. It was unusual for the vertical prosecutor to be present for a routine arrest, but this was a high-profile case, and there was some media value in it. There were also complexities surrounding the Brooksfield arrest that might require immediate legal advice, as well as a “supervisor” for evidence collection. Caldas was known for getting her clients off on technicalities, and everything had to be perfect. Everything. That’s where Euclid came in.
Her lips thinned in determination. She felt adrift in unfamiliar waters here. But with the promise of a promotion on the horizon, and with her natural instincts making her want to kick Belen Caldas’s butt in the courtroom, she knew her attendance would give her an edge.
“All right, quiet down a sec!” Director Holmes shouted above the hubbub. A hush fell over the room. “As you all know, this is a tricky arrest. Our private investigator said there are reporters and protestors camped outside of the Brooksfield Ranch. Where’s our media coordinator?”
A pale woman with a beautiful face and a black bob raised a hand. “Josephine Smith, Director.”
“Good. I’m sure Sheriff Colcord has gotten you up to speed. You’re going to be debriefing the press and public while the arrest occurs. Keep them distracted. Coordinate a path with our deputies through the crowd that we can bring Margie Brooksfield through. It’s early, so hopefully there won’t be that many camped outside the place. Weapons Specialist Orlov, can you say a few words?” Holmes peered over the sea of tactical helmets. A burly arm was raised. A bear-like man with a hooked nose stepped forward. He towered over the rest of the officers.
“Boris Orlov, ma’am.” He craned his neck around to address the room. “Our main priority should be ensuring a peaceful arrest, and compliance from Mr. and Mrs. Brooksfield. Sheriff Colcord and I have debriefed the deputies on how to use our specialized breaching equipment and gone over risk mitigation. I’ve also impressed the importance of only using weapons like bean bag rounds and Tasers to maintain control and safety. We certainly hope it will not come to that. I’ve gone over with the deputies what to do if Paul Brooksfield arms himself and resists.”
“Good, good. Now the prosecutor?” She looked around.
Euclid stood, clearing her throat nervously. “Here, ma’am.”
“Officer Cassian Wiley is your point person. Stick by him.”
The attractive blond deputy with the crooked nose nodded somberly at her.
“If any of you have any legal questions,” Holmes continued, “ask Deputy DA Euclid here. These include questions on what and where you’re allowed and not allowed to search. Questions on escalation of force. Anything of a legal nature at all. And, Ms. Euclid,” Holmes said, “if you see any behavior that falls into the gray or red area of the law, please make yourself known. We can’t have Caldas bringing anything into court over what happens today.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let’s move out.”
Pretty soon, Euclid was sandwiched between Officer Wiley and a female deputy in the back of an SUV, bumping down a remote Colorado road. Agent Cash was driving. Euclid eyed her curiously. Muscles rippled under her shirt as she manipulated the steering wheel. She seemed capable, and Euclid felt a little safer in her car.
But when they arrived outside the Brooksfield Ranch, Euclid was dismayed to see several tents set up on federal land outside. Some had been pitched in the road itself, blocking the gate. Press vans had pulled off the road, idling like sharks waiting to close in for the kill. As they grew closer, she could see signs and placards had been scrawled and staked next to the tents. She strained her eyes to make out what they said, and a flash of headlights on them revealed the words.JUSTICE FOR JAVI,KILL THE FREAKS!,BACK TO EXTINCTION!,NEANDERS: A GOVERNMENT PROJECT,SAPIENS SUPREMACY, andRE-EXTINCT THE FREAKS!Other signs were less aggressive, some of them bearing crosses.IT’S A CRIME TO BE A GOOD CHRISTIAN, they said. Others still said,MARGIE BURN IN HELL,LOCK HER UP, andAREA 51.
“What’s all this?” Euclid asked, confused.
“We got crazies,” said Agent Cash from the driver’s seat, “who think the Neanders are responsible and that Margie Brooksfield is a government plant. We got members of her church protesting. We got people demanding her arrest. And then we got people—” Agent Cash paused to inspect the signs. “Well, I don’t know what the hellthey’reprotesting.”
“Did we know they had blocked the road? Is there another entrance?”
“No,” Officer Wiley responded, a troubled expression on his face. “This isn’t good, but we’ll clear them out.”
The train of SUVs slowed to a halt in front of the gate. Sheriff Colcord vaulted out of the front car with several deputies to approach the four tents pitched in the road. Agent Cash followed. It was still dark, and lights began to switch on in the tents, shadows stirring inside. A reporter holding a microphone, followed by a cameraperson, sidled up to one of the SUVs in front of them, shouting questions through the tinted windows. Pretty soon, another reporter was at Euclid’s window, shining a flashlight inside. Euclid squinted and shielded her eyes, ignoring him.
“After I leave, make sure that door’s locked,” Wiley said.
“Where are you going?” Euclid asked, alarmed.
“To help them clear a path. You stay put, doors locked, windows up. Won’t need you until we get to the house anyways. I’ll be back.”
