Free 299 Days: The Stronghold by Glen Tate Page B

dramatic.
    Grant stared right at Snelling and said, “I’m unarmed now. Nothing to fear from those evil guns, Mr. Snelling. Now, let’s talk man to man. No guns. No violence. Just logic. Are you willing to discuss logic, Mr. Snelling?”
    Snelling seemed to have no idea what to say. He muttered, “OK.”
    Grant needed to pre-empt Snelling on the POI topic. By now, everyone in Pierce Point probably had heard the rumor that he was on the POI list.
    “First of all, the POI thing,” Grant said very calmly, like he was talking to an old friend instead of an enemy. “Tens of thousands of people are on that list, sir. Maybe even some in this room, for all I know. It is not a ‘wanted’ list for any alleged crimes. As the name implies, Mr. Snelling, it is a list of ‘persons of interest.’ Surely you recognize that that is different than a wanted list. Do you have any evidence that I have committed a crime?”
    Snelling just stared. He had nothing to say. He had never been in a debate like this. Never.
    Grant paused. It was time to move in for the kill.
    “Todd,” Grant said like Snelling was his best friend, “you have been handed an amazing gift. A democracy where we follow the Constitution. Elections, transparency, the Bill of Rights. Well-trained constables and guards to protect you. There are men and women right now, as we speak, at that gate willing to get shot by hordes of looters just so you can have this debate with me. Do you know what it’s like to risk your life for others, Mr. Snelling? Do you know what it’s like to risk your life for people who hate you and don’t appreciate what you’re doing for them, Mr. Snelling?”
    Snelling was in shock. He couldn’t speak.
    Grant knew that he had de-escalated with words and now it was time to de-escalate with body language. He relaxed and let his posture slump a little. He sat down on the table at the front of the room and put his hands on it like he was taking a break. Grant smiled. He just sat there, as comfortable and happy as can be. He let that sink in a while.
    “Mr. Snelling, do you appreciate all you have been given out here?” Grant asked in his most sincere, but not patronizing, voice. “Do you, sir?”
    Snelling was still silent. He could feel that he was losing this showdown. Losing badly.
    Finally, Snelling said, “I appreciate not living where a small band of armed men run everything. That’s what I appreciate.”
    Grant smiled. More de-escalation. “Fair enough. Fair enough. But I question the premise of your point on two grounds.”
    Grant motioned for Bobby to bring Grant’s pistol back, and while he was doing that, Grant said, “First of all, we’re not running things. Everyone gets to vote. Not just every four years, but anytime. Would you like to vote on removing me as the judge right now? I would even second the motion to allow the vote to happen.”
    Grant safely took his pistol back from Bobby and walked toward Snelling. He walked right up to him. Snelling flinched because he expected Grant to shoot him. Grant loved the visceral sign of absolute weakness that Snelling was showing the crowd by flinching as he approached.
    Grant said, “The second reason I question the premise of your statement that ‘armed men are running everything’ is that you can be armed.” Keeping the pistol pointed in a safe direction, Grant tried to hand the gun to Snelling.
    “Go ahead, Mr. Snelling,” Grant said. “Take it. You’ll be armed and I won’t. You’ll be the armed man. You or anyone else in this room can—and should—be armed. That would make it pretty hard for my five or six guys to rule over hundreds of you.”
    Snelling was visibly terrified of holding the gun. Grant smiled.
    Grant made exaggerated motions of handing the gun again to Snelling, who refused. Finally, Grant shrugged and safely holstered his pistol.
    The crowd started laughing. They could tell that Grant was screwing with this guy. And winning.
    Snelling was done.