Atlanta CPA Presents…Precipice of Power…Chapter 38
Precipice of Power is a call to action. Economically, politically and as a world leader, America stands on the brink. A step towards destruction or a step back to morality hangs in the balance. Precipice of Power is for all good thinking American’s to lead us back to smaller government and democracy and away from runaway deficits and Socialism. For what evil lies within the hearts of man, whose passion is inflamed by the lust for power, must be stopped. Democracy hangs in the balance until good people rise up and defend America from sea to shining sea. We must never back down. We must never be afraid. We must be bold. We must act. Now. Precipice of Power is not a call to violence but the peaceful revolution that our Constitution and democracy allows, granting us the privilege and responsibility to serve, vote and to actively seek positive change. Shirking not from our moral duty, but to do what you can locally, domestically and internationally to help seat America permanently as a beacon of democracy to a world in need. Precipice of Power will be published here in its entirety at http://www.hiscpa.com/blog/
The 40 caliber Glock. It’s balance unsurpassed. It’s craftsmanship unequalled anywhere in the world. Made by Smith & Wesson but for one purpose.
Its glistening nickel plating was only one of very few made like it. Very difficult to buy initially and now even more rare. One of a select number to have survived to present day. A real collector’s item. One of a kind. Having never yet before been fired, it was meticulously maintained. It once was and still was a true work of art.
The hollow point bullets, rolled in his hand, made with a repressed vacant center for their effect upon impact; flattening, providing the desired result leveling flesh, organs and bones alike. Any such bullet fired from such a range, from a manmade instrument of death, would mostly surely provide their desired effect. With energy to spare, and then some.
He had always liked this room, Supreme Court Chief Justice William J. Banks eases back into his chair settling in one last time as he readies himself. It was in this very room where he had first began his career as a judge and it was here his career would end. The mahogany walls of his library softly bristle in the light of the single lamp. Granting the comfort of many past years use, offering respite, like that of an old friend. If it has to end, let it end here.
No better place.
At 1200 feet per second the 40 caliber hollow point found its intended mark. From this range there was no way he could miss. In mere milliseconds from the firing pin striking the bullet, it left the Glock’s muzzle in a flash of light, announcing its entrance into the dimly lit room quickly entering the left temple of his head. Made for destruction, the hollow point bullet tore through the grey matter of his brain leaving a swath an inch wide and mayhem in its wake.
There would be no autopsy, there was no need. Death came instantly and completely. There would be no open casket. No amount of repair would be possible, not with the left side of his head gone. By the time the bullet had exited the right side of his head the bullet flattening his sinews, sapping all strength, and vigor that had once been. His body fell hard to the floor thumping the wood floors head first as his body toppled, its life over and done.
He had always been a cautious man, measuring his responses, weighing his responses, there was nothing left to do. Financially he had left his wife of forty-five years in good shape, the house had been debt free for years and the final college payments for his children were made long ago. His pension and his nest egg secure, it was the only thing left to do. There were no other options. There was no Plan B. Often the hardest things to do in life, are the ones which are the worst and most tragic.
Hopefully his family would understand. What the world thought really didn’t matter. The only important thing to be done is what he had to do himself. Sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do. Hopefully he might find forgiveness, if not in this world, perhaps the next. Maybe even understanding. No, that was expecting too much. No one could truly ever understand.
He lived by the words, duty, honor, country. Trained in his youth in the armed services as a Marine he understood the calling to a higher standard. He always had. Everyone had said he had grown up before his time, but what would they say now. Always willing to stand up to others to do what was right to protect the innocent and the oppressed.
But what would they say now. Now that it was done. Now that he was done.
Decisions in life aren’t easy. They never are. Especially the tough ones. Sometimes in the thick of battle, decisive men had to rise up when others shirked away, unable to clearly see. Frequently the door of destiny beckons, calling one to further a cause to serve and for the benefit of others.
But now, what would they say now. He had always been a cautious man, measuring his responses, weighing his responses, there was nothing left to do.
Certainly there would be a state funeral, there always was, but he knew he would not be alive to witness it. No way. Not now. His course of action had already determined his fate.
There was nothing left to do.