Darlene was struggling to crack a joke about her moment of embarrassment with the pill bottles. She tried to smile and started to speak, but she couldn’t, at least for a moment or two. She glanced around nervously at the other café guests while her chin trembled and the tears started rolling down her cheeks.
Finally she summoned the strength to speak. “Okay, Abby. Now you know. My nasty little secret. This is how I cope.”
“That’s a lot of valium, Darley…”
Darlene nodded. “I have three different doctors. In three different cities. All of them prescribing. I don’t think they know about each other. Although two of them know about Fort, and because of who he is, they don’t ask a lot of questions. So I triple-dose. I’m using this to exist, Abigail.”
“And?”
“And I find that I can’t live without it. Literally. I can’t give it up. God help me, I’ve tried to stop. But whenever I quit, fear and anxiety start to suffocate me. I can’t breathe. Can’t sleep. I can’t even begin to tell you how terrible it is.”
“Does Fort know?”
“I don’t think so. He knew I was taking some medication right after Jimmy’s death to relax but that’s about it.”
Abigail thought about the next question she wanted to ask her friend. She knew it might sound a little brusque. But it was necessary. So she decided to move ahead.
“I am asking this only because I care about you, Darley. But I was wondering, why did you decide to share this with me?”
Darlene shrugged and slightly shook her head.
For an instant Abigail feared that she had offended her friend. But then Darlene spoke up.
“I suppose, I don’t know…maybe I thought you were one of the few people who wouldn’t judge me but who would be honest with me.”
“Honest about what?”
“My, uh…you know…”
“I’m listening…”
“Okay. My addiction. Fine, I said it. I’m totally dependant on my pills to survive. Please don’t hate me for this…”
“Darley, of course not. I love you like a sister. But what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’ve got some advice. I’ve run out of answers. I’m just surviving from one minute to the next. Just barely.”
“Look, I’m glad you confided in me. I’m no expert. But I know a little about addiction. Back when I was practicing law full-time I had a few clients dealing with similar issues. And I know enough to know that your willingness to admit you’ve got a problem is the first big step.”
“That’s good to hear…”
“The next step is to find a place that is discreet, where counselors can help you to kick this thing. I can help you look for a good rehab center.”
Darlene was weeping gently.
Abigail continued, “You’re also going to have to talk to Fort about this…”
“Abby, he’s going to be devastated…”
“But he loves you, Darley. I’m sure he’ll support you. But there’s one more thing, an even more important step…”
Just then the waitress walked by. Darlene glanced at the last pill bottle on the table, snatched it, and quickly thrust it back into her purse.
She then looked up at Abigail through her tears and asked, “An even more important step? Like what?”
“You said it yourself.”
“I did?”
“Yes. When you said the words God help me…I believe He can and He will. If you let Him. God’s in the business of fixing people.”
Darlene’s face relaxed into a mildly surprised look. As if she had just been told something she assumed she had known all along but now realized she had never really thought about.
PART TWO
When the Lion Tells the Story
In less than a generation, the five intertwined media corporations have enlarged their influence in the home, school, and work lives of every citizen. Their concentrated influence exercises political and cultural forces reminiscent of the royal decrees of monarchs rejected by the revolutionists of 1776.
Ben H. Bagdikian, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist
The media can determine foreign policy, and it can help to win or lose wars. It can bring about recession, or it can bolster confidence in the economy. In short, we live in a dictatorship of the media. It controls what we know, what we think, and what we buy. It is not Big Brother we have to fear as much as it is Citizen Kane. And if we are to be really free, we must lift the veil that blinds us.
Tom Neumann, publisher, The Journal of International Security Affairs
By contrast, in the case of the BBC and CNN, you are explicitly aware that rather than presenting the world as they find it, those channels are taking a distinct side—the left-liberal internationalist side—in an honest and fundamental debate over foreign policy.
Robert D. Kaplan, “Why I Love Al Jazeera,” The Atlantic (October 2009)
TWENTY-SIX
Jerry Hendrickson was pacing back and forth like a hamster in a cage. It was one of those cold-sweat moments.
As desk manager for the Global News Network’s Los Angeles studio, Jerry had just finished reading the thick transcript of congressional testimony. It was stunning. Now he was on the horns of a dilemma. He glanced at his watch. Bob Kosterman, the executive vice president of the network, should have left his private lunch in Washington with Vice President Tulrude at the Executive Mansion about five minutes ago. Jerry was scheduled to call Bob right about now, while Kosterman was alone inside the limo furnished by the administration and being driven back to the airport.
So he did. Three rings. Then Kosterman picked up. Jerry didn’t waste any time.
“Mr. Kosterman, I’ve read through this transcript of Joshua Jordan’s testimony in front of the congressional committee. I think we have an explosive issue here.”
“Explosive. Yes, no pun intended.” Kosterman was chuckling at the play on words.
“Right. Well, I think we’ve been casting this whole story in a slightly…uh…misdirected fashion. This Jordan guy is not squeezing the Pentagon for a better business deal. Not at all. It says right here the real reason he’s reluctant to disclose all his research on the RTS design is—”
But Kosterman wouldn’t let him finish. “Jerry, are you accusing your own network of creating a false story?”
“Uh, no, sir.”
“Did GNN commit actionable defamation? Is that what you are saying?”
“No, sir, but—”
“You’ve read the transcript?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And it was delivered to you anonymously?”
“Absolutely.”
“A transcript from a closed congressional committee investigating high-level national security issues? You realize how much trouble we could be in if we publish that?”
“But Mr. Kosterman, we published that original leaked report from the committee about Jordan defying Congress. And it now appears that the slant of the story as we reported it was all wrong—”
“No, it wasn’t. You said yourself we didn’t create a false story.”
“Well, not intentionally, no. But it appears now that the accuracy of-”
“Jerry. Do not—I repeat—do not put anything from that transcript on our web-news service. Anywhere. At anytime. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And deliver that transcript immediately to my executive assistant. And don’t make any copies.”
After Jerry hung up, he had that rolling seasick feeling of regret again. It was happening more and more lately. He had been in the television industry for twenty-two years. Long enough to have seen how the media business had turned rotten, like spoiled bananas complete with fruit flies hovering around. And he knew why.
Jerry was there back during the 2009-10 transition when all of America’s television stations, responding to the requirement of the federal government, had to convert from the old analogue signal system to a digital format. From a
technical standpoint, that one made sense and seemed to work reasonably well for the consumers. So when several years later a second media “conversion” was ordered by the U.S. government, most Americans weren’t too upset. They had seen it all before. Of course, at the time, some media watchers and pundits had warned about the potential for an ugly monopoly developing after that media transition. Jerry agreed.
Most of the politicians didn’t see it—or didn’t want to—so Congress failed to act. After all, the public had been assured that the conversion of all TV and radio broadcasts over to Internet delivery would result in spectacular, new entertainment options. Viewers would still have the convenience of watching on their big, flat-screen monitors, but once television and radio were switched over to the web, the average American would have a banquet of fantastic features. If John and Jane in Lansing, Michigan, were watching a TV movie about the Lincoln assassination, they could pause the program and do a Google search on their screen about Abe Lincoln’s death—all from the comfort of their easy chairs. Or if the crowd at Casey’s in Boston were watching the World Series on the television screen, they could mute the sound and pull up the audio of a favorite radio sportscaster from any station in the country—on that same television set and get his take on the game. Besides, the government said it needed to commandeer the old-fashioned “over the air” broadcast spectrum that TV and radio had used for decades so it could be used for other purposes, like emergency services and large transmissions of high-speed technical data to federal agencies, contractors, and industries.
Few people saw what Jerry and other media veterans saw coming. But most of the media insiders like Jerry found it easier to keep their mouths shut. After all, he had a family to feed and a job to keep.
By that time almost all of the nation’s newspapers and magazines too had fled to the Internet. The print-publishing world had been facing financial ruin, so going electronic was a matter of survival. Television and radio had converted to a single Internet-based system of transmission; all forms of national news and information had now been transferred over to a single platform: the web. It was as if every media company had booked a ticket for themselves onto the same ocean-going cruise ship. But few people had asked the right questions: like who were the pilots of that vessel, and where was it heading?
Jerry and some of his cronies in the industry could see how it could become a ship of fools. The news conversion to the Internet had created the open door for a monopoly over all news and information that could be exercised by a few huge telecommunications companies.
And he didn’t miss, either, the effect of the international takeover. Foreign nations used cleverly disguised sovereign wealth funds to buy up a controlling interest in America’s news networks and the telecoms during the national economic crisis. Jerry would overhear Bob Kosterman’s secretary telling him that the big investors from Paris, Moscow, Beijing, or Bahrain were on the line. He knew it wasn’t just about finance. How could it not seep into the decisions that were being made about what news and talk programs to pull and which ones to keep? The same scenario was happening in every other TV network. And the radio syndicates too.
And as for Bob Kosterman’s edict about deep-sixing the truth about the Jordan testimony, well, he knew his boss would never go against the flow.
Jerry mouthed to himself the two words he knew were behind what had just happened.
Jessica Tulrude.
In the mountains of Colorado, the members of the Roundtable were taking a break, milling around in the massive meeting room of Joshua Jordan’s Hawk’s Nest Ranch, grabbing sandwiches and drinks off the twenty-foot-long split-log sideboard. The large wrap-around windows gave a stunning view of the Rocky Mountains and a sweeping panorama of valley down below, full of deep green sagebrush and juniper trees, and a twisting river that ran down the middle.
Judge Fortis Rice, a tall, thin man in his fifties, was standing in front of one of the large plate-glass windows with his hands in the pockets of his Western-cut slacks, looking out.
“Josh, I never get tired of looking at that view of yours. Do you?”
Joshua Jordan shook his head and smiled. “Never.”
People who visited his two-hundred-acre ranch often asked such questions. Although he didn’t show it, it actually made Joshua feel uncomfortable. It was almost as if they were asking if Joshua was content when he was here. And, of course, he wasn’t. He was restless. Despite his splendid varnished-log mansion, where there was always a faint smoky scent from its many fieldstone fireplaces and running jokes about the big grizzly bearskin on the wall, about who really killed the beast as it unexpectedly charged his hunting party, whether it was Joshua or his buddy and ranch security chief, Bill Lawrence. They had both fired simultaneously, and both were shooting identical Winchester Big Bore 94s, so the issue was never settled. Here was a place that spoke to Joshua’s soul more than any other place on the globe. A place full of good memories of family and friends. A spot seemingly away from the business decisions that forever badgered and consumed him.
Yet he was never really at peace. Even when he was here.
“It truly is beautiful,” Fort continued. “I’ve told you about the little place Darley and I have on the lake in Idaho. Nothing like yours, mind you. But I think I know a little about how you must feel when you’re here. I keep forgetting to bring pictures of our cabin…”
“How’s Darley doing, Fort? I know that Abby was looking forward to spending the day with her.”
“Well, she’s never been to Aspen. It was nice of Abby to put up with her insistence to see the place. Though for the life of me I don’t know why she wanted to go. Maybe to get as far away from the Roundtable as possible. I wonder if she thinks we’re just way too serious at these meetings, you know, all-business…”
Then Judge Rice turned away from the window abruptly, like he had just remembered something. “But no, Darley is doing fine. Just fine.”
Halfway through lunch, Joshua brought the meeting back to order, and everyone sat down back at the long oval table, which was large enough to seat all fourteen members of the Roundtable.
As founder, Joshua was the permanent chairman. The Roundtable was comprised of five subgroups each with a separate focus and chairperson. Each subgroup had one or two additional associate members.
Judge Rice was the chairman of the law group. General Rocky Bridger headed up the national defense unit. The chairman of the media group was silver-haired Phil Rankowitz, a former television network president, current chairman of a satellite network, and founder of several experimental “new media” companies.
Beverly Rose Cortez, was in charge of the free-market business subgroup. Hers was a Cinderella story. At only twenty, she had developed her own clothing and jewelry line for a small single store in New Mexico. She then branched out with several high-end stores throughout the state a few years later. When her company finally went public, her controlling interest skyrocketed to nearly half a billion dollars. She was now on the boards of several Fortune 500 companies.
The political unit of the group was headed up by former U.S. Senator Alvin Leander, a short, fiery man who often spoke with a brutal kind of bluntness, who was familiar with the inner workings of the Washington beltway like few others.
The men and women of the Roundtable met regularly, at least quarterly and sometimes more often, usually at Joshua’s Rocky Mountain ranch but occasionally at a few select, conveniently centralized hotels. They were all accomplished in their respective fields. But there was another more important thread that bound them tightly together.
After opening the afternoon session, Joshua turned things over to General Rocky Bridger, who said, “You all have the email I sent to you regarding the arrest of the preacher in San Francisco. There have been numerous incidents like this involving the enforcement of the international treaty of tolerance that America has been roped into. It’s sickening, frankly. Judge Rice, I know you can update us on the legal side of things. But f
rom my standpoint, it’s another in a continuing series of attacks on our national sovereignty. The mere thought of U.N. officials with offices right here in America singling out citizens of a particular religious persuasion and reporting them to the federal authorities so they can be arrested. This is not the America I fought for. I know nothing about this preacher. But we have got to do something. Isn’t this why we started this group in the first place? To try to take back the United States of America from those who are auctioning off our freedoms for international trading terms that lets us buy more cars from China while our own workers are out of jobs here at home.”
Judge Rice weighed in. He was by nature a calm man. His excitement over such matters wasn’t reflected in his demeanor but in the intensity of his ideas. “I’ve been in touch with a few legal organizations fighting these tolerance-related treaty cases. Unfortunately, there isn’t any good news. In one case, a federal district court presided over by Judge Anne Plymouth ruled that the First Amendment takes precedence over the treaty. Sad to say, her decision was overturned by the U.S. Court of Appeals. That terrible precedent was then cited by another trial judge in Boston where a radio commentator was arrested for criticizing a local Muslim caliph and cited for violating that treaty. So, ladies and gentlemen, as the saying goes, I’m afraid we’re on thin ice, and there’s an early thaw coming. This all started with a resolution from the U.N. Human Rights Council back in March of 2009. It picked up steam over the years. Nation after nation signed on. And finally our Senate, urged on by our good president, signed it too.”
Alvin Leander was ready to explode. “When is the Supreme Court going to resolve this travesty? If I was still in the Senate, I’d vote to move their chambers outside onto the sidewalk until they took one of these cases up for review—”
“The Supreme Court is not going to help us,” Judge Rice replied calmly. “The two most recent appointments made by President Corland both favor international law. The globalists now hold a majority in the high court. They would likely affirm the treaty and adjust the meaning of the First Amendment accordingly. At least when it comes to the treaty’s defamation of religion section. The court has already stated that crimes allegedly involving intimidation, even if it’s just a matter of verbal or written expression with no violence, don’t have protection under Freedom of Speech and Free Exercise of Religion. The language is already there from previous court decisions. I’ve been watching this happen for a while…”