#who made it legal for several days for people who flew the draft to cross border by foot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carewyncromwell · 4 years

Text

Ficlet: Educational Decree #23

@drinkyoursoupbitch mentioned enjoying Lawyer!Carewyn, so...I decided to write this not-so-quick not-so-little fic drabble, featuring my MC, Carewyn Cromwell, and her Surrogate BBBFF, Bill Weasley. This is set in May 1996, circa the end of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and right after Voldemort’s return has been fully revealed to the Wizarding World.

One note about Carey’s involvement with the Order -- due to her baggage with Dumbledore and her own inherent pacifism, Carewyn is not an active member of the Order of the Phoenix, at least not in the traditional sense. She does help them in her own way and on her own terms, but Carewyn hasn’t served as any kind of representative for or agent of the organization, fought in any conflicts with Death Eaters, or even attended any Order meetings in person. Most of the aid she’s provided the Order is through leaking intelligence to them through her old friends Tonks and Jae and in going out of her way to serve as legal council to Fudge so she can write and work on cases that she would know well enough to subsequently dismantle at the proper moment. Carewyn has also kept known associates of Dumbledore like the Weasleys and the Hogwarts staff at arm’s length and not spoken to them much at all, so as to not give Fudge reason to question her loyalties or look too deeply at her activities. Therefore Carewyn and Bill -- keeping an eye on the greater good -- have not shared direct correspondence for nearly a year, which has definitely been hard on both of them, as after Rowan’s death, the two have come to see each other as their respective best friend.

~~~~~

The Ministry of Magic may have been in a state of confusion thanks to the revelation of Voldemort’s return -- but no matter how chaotic things were, or how many enchanted memos flew through the air, Bill Weasley was never not going to stick out like a sore thumb.

The ponytailed Cursebreaker towered over many of the employees scrambling around him as he climbed into the lift that led to the other levels. He could feel several side-long glances his way -- no doubt interested in his violet-black leather jacket with silver spiked shoulders and the Peruvian Vipertooth fang earring in his right ear.

‘Maybe I should’ve drank some Polyjuice,’ he thought sheepishly. ‘Come disguised as someone else.’

But he brushed the thought off. As good as it would’ve been to not attract as much attention, he knew he didn’t want to waste time. The Ministry having finally come around to the idea of Voldemort’s return meant that Carewyn presumably no longer had to walk on eggshells and pretend not to know everybody -- and, well, there was a lot to plan. Bill knew Carewyn would want to know everything that had happened, and now that the truth had come out, he wanted to be the one to tell her. If nothing else, Carewyn would definitely prefer a private meeting with him than one with Dumbledore.

“Level Two,” said the cool, serene female voice of the lift as it came to a stop. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Offices.”

The cage-like door clattered open, and the employees in the lift came streaming out, fighting with a flood of equal size trying to take their place. Before Bill could climb out himself, however, he noticed a familiar mane of bright pink hair in the crowd of people pushing their way into the lift.

“Tonks!” said Bill.

The Metamorphagus looked up, and her face broke into a huge smile at the sight of him.

“Bill!”

The two exchanged a short hug.

“What in the world are you doing here, mate?” Tonks asked incredulously. “Gonna stick out just a touch in that get-up, aren’t you?”

“I already am sticking out,” Bill laughed. “Is Carewyn in her office?”

Tonks’s face grew a bit more serious.

“No, she’s on Level Nine -- Courtroom Ten. The Wizengamot’s discussing a challenge made to Educational Decree Number 23 -- you know, the one creating the High Inquisitor post? Apparently they summoned Carey as an expert witness.”

“Because she helped Fudge with a draft of that decree,” surmised Bill.

Tonks nodded.

“Well, I’ll go on ahead and find her down there, then,” said Bill.

He sidled back into the lift, and Tonks came up to stand beside him as the cage doors closed and the lift began to move again.

“Wish I could come with you,” said Tonks softly, “but I’ve got a meeting with Remus right after work, I can’t be late.”

Bill cocked his eyebrows amusedly. “A meeting? Do you call all of your romantic rendez-vous’s that, Tonks?”

Tonks’s face darkened in a blush even as her face broke into a huge white grin.

“Oh, don’t tease! It’s for the Order,” she mumbled a bit more shyly.

Bill laughed.

The lift came to a stop.

“Level Eight,” said the cool, serene female voice. “Atrium.”

The doors clanged open, and the mob of employees flooded out. Tonks strode out of the lift too, waving to Bill over her shoulder.

“Say hi to the ‘General’ for me!” she said with a laugh.

Bill waved back, grinning at the reminder of Diego’s old nickname for Carewyn. The Dueling Champion had started calling her that after she and the others started the Circle of Khanna back in the day -- though Diego often punctuated it with modifiers like “brave General” or “kind General.”

The doors closed, and the lift began to descend again. Bill was the only one left inside now, so he could actually stretch a bit without hitting any of the dozen people fencing him in on either side.

‘Carey stayed in Fudge’s good graces this last year so she could sabotage him wherever she could -- keep him from grabbing absolute power, and help us fight You-Know-Who,’ Bill recalled. ‘So she no doubt wrote that draft of the decree with the intention of having it challenged.’

Something rubbed Bill the wrong way, though.

‘The Wizengamot summoned her as a witness, no doubt to defend it...but why would they even bother defending it? Fudge has been proven wrong about You-Know-Who. And why is Carey just an expert witness, when she could have made the challenge herself?’

“Level Nine,” said the cool, serene female voice of the lift as it came to its last stop. “Department of Mysteries.”

The cage door clattered open again, and Bill climbed out.

Level Nine was unique among the floors of the Ministry for its reflective black-tiled walls and ceilings. Bill’s leather boots clapped against the floor with every step, the sound echoing off of every surface down the hall behind him as he walked.

He turned a corner and found Courtroom Ten. Trying to be as quiet as he could, he turned the silver doorknob in the center of the door and inched it open.

“...position was created for the welfare of the students, was it not? To better regulate and enforce the standards for their educators -- the professors put in charge of their care?”

Bill identified Fudge’s blustering voice at once, though it sounded much shakier and more feeble than usual.

“...That was supposed to be its intent, yes.”

‘Carey!’

Bill sidled into the room, settling down into the half-full stands of the courtroom so he could see.

Fudge sat up near the head of the Courtroom’s box seats, spinning his lime green bowler hat in both hands in his lap. The top seat, however, which belonged to the Chief Warlock, was once again occupied by Albus Dumbledore, dressed in embroidered lavender robes and a matching pointed hat. Bill also noticed his younger brother Percy -- as Junior Undersecretary -- sitting in the Head Scribe’s Chair, in the far right corner. Percy, true to form, seemed to be purposefully avoiding Bill’s gaze.

On the floor, a young man with dark hair and a set of white-collared brown pinstripe robes who Bill recognized as ex-Ravenclaw Prefect Chester Davies sat at the prosecution’s table. And sitting in the witness chair at the center of the room, dressed in high-necked, flowing forest green robes and gold star-like earrings, was Carewyn. Her ginger red hair was shorter than Bill remembered it, only reaching her chin, but her lipstick was as ruby red as ever. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders were low, making her appear incredibly uncomfortable.

Bill frowned. He’d never seen Carewyn slouch like that before...

“And -- and there have been...concerns over the years,” Fudge pressed, though he kept glancing anxiously out the side of his eye up at Dumbledore beside him, “letters sent by parents of the students, expressing concerns about...previous staff appointments at Hogwarts, yes?”

“Objection,” said Chester Davies rather coolly. “The witness is here to testify about the legality of the measure, not to give justification for why it was written.”

“Sustained,” said Dumbledore airily.

His light blue eyes drifted down to Fudge, and although they weren’t at all sharp or reproachful, the Minister flinched all the same. Dumbledore then looked down at Carewyn, inclining his head slightly.

“Miss Cromwell...your legal counsel was that there was nothing on the books forbidding the creation of the High Inquisitor position -- is that correct?”

Despite the slight discomfort in her posture, Carewyn kept her eyes solidly on Dumbledore as she spoke.

“Yes, Professor.”

“So in your view, it would not be illegal for the Ministry to influence the way Hogwarts is run -- to circumvent the authority of the school’s own Headmaster?”

“I could find nothing on the books outlawing it,” said Carewyn solemnly. “There is no law forbidding the Ministry from regulating Hogwarts’s educational practices, staff appointments, or lesson plans. However one personally feels about Educational Decree Number 23...”

She inclined her head respectfully to Dumbledore.

“...I would conclude that it was legal.”

Fudge’s face was twitching as if he wanted to smile, but seemed too afraid to when he glanced around at Dumbledore and the rest of the Wizengamot on either side of him, whose faces were all decidedly stony.

Dumbledore’s eyes flickered from Carewyn to Chester Davies at the prosecution table and back. Then he gave Carewyn a short, respectful nod in return.

“Thank you, Miss Cromwell. Mr. Davies -- you may now cross-examine the witness.”

Chester rose to his feet, his shoulders straight back and tall. He strode around the table slowly, but with purpose, his robes billowing slightly behind him as he came up beside Carewyn, his arms folded behind his back. His eyes never rested on anyone in particular -- instead they hovered somewhere in the area of the abandoned far corner of the stands.

“Miss Cromwell,” he said, his voice very cool, “when Fudge first approached you for legal counsel, why did he want the High Inquisitor position created?”

“O-objection!” Fudge stammered. “That’s a prejudicial question!”

“Overruled,” said Dumbledore calmly. “It’s a factual question -- one I’d quite like to know the answer to. Proceed with your answer, Miss Cromwell.”

Carewyn had shifted her gaze over to Chester. Although Chester wasn’t looking at her, she kept her eyes locked on his face.

“...He said...that he wished to keep Dumbledore in check,” she said very quietly.

Both the Wizengamot members and the gallery startled to mumble amongst themselves. Bill noticed a reporter with an uneven light blond haircut and a snake tattoo on his arm in the stands scribbling notes furiously. Even Percy paused in his writing, glancing up at Fudge uneasily. Fudge’s face had flushed the shade of a fine red wine.

Chester’s eyebrows rose. Though he kept his gaze on the abandoned far corner of the stands, quiet confidence rippled off of him as he strolled leisurely to the other side of Carewyn.

“Had Albus Dumbledore been charged with any crime by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” he asked.

“Objection!” said Fudge again. “Completely irrelevant! We’re discussing the decree, not Dumbledore!”

“Overruled,” said Dumbledore. “Miss Cromwell’s previous answer has linked both you and me to the decree, Cornelius. Proceed, Miss Cromwell.”

“No,” said Carewyn.

“Had Albus Dumbledore been under investigation for a specific crime by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” asked Chester.

“Objection!” Fudge burst out, sounding both more frustrated and desperate. “This line of questioning is highly inflammatory -- ”

“Overruled,” Dumbledore cut him off very smoothly. “The truth can often be inflammatory. Proceed, Miss Cromwell.”

“No -- though he was placed under Ministry surveillance.”

“Objection!” whimpered Fudge. “We’ll need to cross-examine that claim -- ”

“Overruled. Our examination of the witness is through, and she’s merely stating facts of the case. Proceed, Mr. Davies.”

“And,” said Chester, his voice a bit sharper now, “was the High Inquisitor position filled again, once Dolores Umbridge -- with the passing of Educational Decree Number 28 -- replaced Dumbledore and became Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

“Objection!”

“Overruled.”

Carewyn inclined her head slightly, her blue eyes narrowing slightly upon Chester’s face seriously.

“No.”

Chester’s mouth had spread into a small smirk by this point. He’d stopped in front of Carewyn and faced her at last, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph.

“Interesting. So the High Inquisitor position -- which, the Minister has stated for the press was there to ‘keep order’ and ‘address the falling standards at Hogwarts school’ -- was no longer needed as soon as Albus Dumbledore left his position as Headmaster. Even though Headmistress Umbridge would go on to try to forcibly remove Professor Rubeus Hagrid from the Hogwarts grounds -- an attempt that resulted in severe injury for Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall...and even though the Inquisitorial Squad created to assist the High Inquisitor had not been disbanded and was actually given more authority after the fact...the position of High Inquisitor no longer needed to be filled. No further effort was needed to regulate Hogwarts’s educational practices. Once Dumbledore was gone, so too was the need for the position...and therefore the decree.”

Fudge’s flushed face had turned a dark purple.

“Objection!” he squeaked.

“Overruled,” Dumbledore said very quietly, but very firmly.

“Regulation is legal,” Chester plowed on, pacing slowly across the room without looking anyone in the eye, “as long as it’s consistent. There can be no singling out of individual citizens, particularly when it’s not in the pursuit of legal action. Regardless of the Minister’s distrust of him, Dumbledore had not been charged with and was not under investigation for a specific crime...so there would’ve been no probable cause for his personal activities to be regulated. Regulating educational policy, therefore, would only be legal as long as the regulation was consistent across the board -- if the High Inquisitor position both regulated Albus Dumbledore and Dolores Umbridge’s decisions as Head of Hogwarts school.”

“Object -- ”

“Overruled.”

“And so,” said Chester more fiercely, his gaze flashing up at Fudge with visible reproach, “the High Inquisitor position, and the decree that spawned it, was created for the express purpose of silencing political dissidents...namely one in particular -- Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

Chester then turned to Carewyn, his expression becoming much less harsh but no less severe.

“Would that be legal, in your opinion, Miss Cromwell?”

Carewyn stared Chester straight in the eye. Neither one of them blinked.

“No,” said Carewyn at last, very firmly. “The targeting of a private citizen with no legal justification would violate multiple laws, including the Third Clause of the Wizard’s Code of Civil Rights.”

Fudge’s face had lost most of its color, blanching to an ill grayish-white. The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth turned up in a very tiny, dewy smile.

Chester’s eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face, almost softening.

“Thank you, Miss Cromwell. No further questions.”

Carewyn got to her feet. She looked like she wanted to say something to Chester, but decided against it and simply nodded, heading back up into the stands. She noticed Bill sitting in the rows, but did not move to greet him, instead taking a seat in the row behind the prosecutor’s table, away from the rest of the spectators.

Chester turned fully around to face the Wizengamot, unfolding his arms from behind his back at last.

“Members of the Wizengamot,” he said lowly, “I do not make this case with any desire to achieve political points. If nothing else...the danger we now find ourselves in makes it imperative that we set aside political squabbling. Whatever one’s opinion is of the Minister of Magic or his legislation...”

He shot a side-long glance at Fudge, as did many other members of the Court.

“...this is not the time for retaliation, but for justice. Educational Decree Number 23 was illegal both in its creation and especially in its execution -- and so it must be expunged forever from the law, and we must act to ensure that nothing like it ever is created again. This decision must be so universal that it sets a precedent -- one that, unlike the one this decree set, is one that evokes positive change. Hogwarts doesn’t need ‘regulation’ now -- it needs protection. We all need protection. So vote with your conscience. End this chapter of Ministry ineptitude and in-fighting...and start a new one, having made up for the mistakes we’ve made.”

Chester glanced at Fudge one more time, this time meeting his eyes. The Minister looked away uncomfortably. The young attorney then inclined his head respectfully to the rest of the court.

“Thank you.”

He took his seat at the prosecution table. The room was silent for a moment, before Dumbledore addressed the court.

“All those in favor of the decree being upheld?”

No one moved. Not a single member of the Wizengamot raised their hand -- not even Fudge, who kept his eyes locked on the bowler hat clutched in his trembling hands.

The reaction was so stunning that the spectators in the gallery began to whisper among themselves. The tattooed reporter in the stands scribbled some more notes furiously.

“All those in favor of overturning the decree and -- by extension -- declaring it illegal under Wizarding Law?” said Dumbledore.

A sea of hands rose into the air. Fudge did not raise his hand -- he’d clearly decided to withhold his vote -- but he for once remained completely silent, his entire posture shrinking visibly in his seat.

“Then we are decided,” declared Dumbledore, a pleased twinkle in his light blue eyes. “Educational Decree Number 23 is abolished. Court is adjourned.”

He lightly tapped the gavel twice on the table in front of him. Everyone started bustling around to leave the Courtroom, including Carewyn and Chester, who left together. Bill hurried to catch up with them, even as the crowd of spectators devolved around him.

He finally caught up with them as they climbed into the lift.

“Carewyn!”

Carewyn and Chester turned around. Their eyes both lit up in recognition.

“...Bill,” said Carewyn, visibly taken aback. She glanced at Chester out the side of her eye very quickly before asking, “What are you doing here?”

Bill came to stop next to them in the lift, a smile prickling at his features. “I heard the Wizengamot had summoned you, so I thought I’d pop down and watch the court proceedings...going up, I suppose?” he added lightly, “Allow me.”

He punched the button for Level Two.

“Glad I did too,” Bill continued casually as the gate-like doors closed. “That was quite a case!”

Carewyn leaned back against the side of the lift, crossing her arms.

“...Yes, it was. A foregone conclusion, some would say, given Fudge’s current level of popularity -- but the law isn’t supposed to be a popularity contest.”

“True,” said Chester. “Just because Fudge was cruel in how he targeted his political rivals doesn’t mean we have to be.”

Bill’s gaze slid over to Chester.

“...I didn’t know you were an attorney now, Chester. I haven’t seen you since...”

“...I left school -- I know,” finished Chester with a polite smile. “I’m rather new to it, actually. I only started practicing last month.”

“I was the one who suggested Chester take the case,” Carewyn added, also smiling slightly.

“I hope you were pleased with the result,” Chester shot back with a wry smile.

“It did turn out the way we hoped, anyway. Though I would’ve preferred if our roles had been switched.”

“We can’t all be on the winning side of things.”

The lift came to a stop.

“Level Two,” said the cool female voice again. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Offices.”

The three climbed out.

“Oh, Carewyn, before I forget,” said Chester, “I left some paperwork for you in my office -- I thought it might be useful, for your next case.”

“Thank you,” said Carewyn, “I’ll go and fetch it.”

“I have to be heading out myself...could I steal a bottle of pop from your office, before I go?”

“Of course. I left the file I borrowed in my right desk drawer too.”

“Much obliged.”

The exchange was very quick and clipped, and yet there was something almost pointed in the glances they shared -- as if they were saying something else entirely that only they knew.

Carewyn headed off down the hall, presumably toward Chester’s office. Chester strolled down to the first door on the right, which led to Carewyn’s office, and opened it, glancing over his shoulder at Bill.

“Do you want to wait here until Carewyn comes back?” he asked politely. “It should only take a few minutes.”

“Yes, I would,” said Bill.

Bill followed Chester into the office, and the attorney closed the door behind both of them.

Carewyn’s office was unusual among the Ministry of Magic’s offices in how charming and remarkably pretty it was. It was very tiny, incredibly organized, and impeccably decorated, with mint-green painted walls and a charmed skylight that showed the image of the London street above them, including the passing feet of the Muggles presumably walking overhead. It also included several Muggle appliances, such as a waffle-maker and a tiny fridge -- Carewyn had said in her letters that she and her coworkers often worked late nights, so sometimes Talbott, Tonks, or Ben (who were Aurors and a Hitwizard respectively) would pop in for a before-dawn breakfast after one of their assignments.

Chester sat down in the wheeled office chair (another unique Muggle item) and rolled it over to the fridge behind the black desk. He opened it, pushing aside the items inside to reach the very back.

“Can I get you some orangeade, perhaps?” asked Chester casually. “Carewyn always keeps a bottle or two in stock.”

Bill smiled broadly. “Of course. You know it’s my favorite, Carey.”

Chester -- or rather, Carewyn, in disguise as Chester -- took out a bottle of orangeade, her face breaking into a broad smile and her dark eyes sparkling, as she opened the bottle and handed it to Bill.

“When did you figure it out?” she asked.

“Back in the courtroom,” said Bill. “You’ve never slouched like that when you were uncomfortable. You used to shrink a bit, when you were younger...but you always look away when you’re the least bit uncomfortable. You don’t keep eye contact like that. Then you started talking, and...”

Bill grinned.

“...even though it was Chester’s voice, I could still hear you in there.”

Carewyn grinned broadly. She rolled the chair around so she could fetch a can of Vimto Cola for herself. She opened it with a click and took a sip.

“It’ll only take a few minutes before I turn back into myself again,” she said. “The case went on a bit longer than I expected -- I had to cut my closing arguments short, if I didn’t want to quickly rush back to the prosecution bench and drink some ‘water.’”

“Yet you still won everyone over,” said Bill as he lowered the soda bottle from his lips. “Well, except for Fudge, but...none of us expected to win him over.”

Carewyn sighed. “True. I’m glad he had the decency to step aside at least. He clearly saw there was no point in wasting his vote -- it would only make him look worse politically, to be the only one standing up for his decree.”

“Do you reckon he’ll resign?”

“I’m positive. This trial broke him a bit, I think. It really gave him a good look at how much he’s destroyed his reputation forever.”

Carewyn took another sip. Bill considered her for a moment, his eyes lingering on Chester’s dark hair.

“I have to ask, though, Carey...why did you do it? Why didn’t you just challenge the decree yourself? Why replace Chester?”

Carewyn bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes drifting away as she placed her soda can down on her desk.

“The Prophet’ll be going on about Chester taking down the decree,” said Bill, sounding almost disappointed. “He’ll be getting praise for what you did.”

“And that’ll help him get more cases in the future,” Carewyn said simply. “I need more allies in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- good lawyers who won’t cow to people like Fudge. And if I was in the witness chair instead, I could appear as a neutral observer -- so when I invariably sided with the prosecution, I could bring the case for the Decree crashing down.”

“But you weren’t in the witness chair. Chester was.”

“Yes. I actually gave Chester a file that he could use in the case, while I sat back...but he refused. He said that I deserved to present my case in front of a jury, after how much work I did. So after a lot of coaxing, we decided I would present my case -- disguised as Chester.”

“So you did all this just to help Chester with his career?”

Carewyn’s eyes lingered on the bookshelf in the corner.

“Not entirely,” she admitted.

She clearly seemed to regret that her decision wasn’t solely based on that kind of selfless rationale. She rested her hands on her desk, interlacing the larger fingers belonging to Chester.

“Even if Fudge is no longer in power, the Ministry’s still packed to the gills with his supporters, as well as people who were willing to just scrape and grovel at his feet. It’s safer for me to interact with you all now, but I can’t afford to lose my stable position just yet -- the truth’s come out, but the Ministry isn’t any less treacherous. Dolores Umbridge hasn’t even lost her job here, even after everything she’s done as High Inquisitor. On the contrary...there are rumors circulating she might even return to being Senior Under-Secretary in the future.”

Bill was aghast. “What?”

Carewyn looked just as displeased. “I’m angry too...but there’s nothing I can do. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement can’t charge her with a crime even if the decree making her High Inquisitor has been declared illegal, since she was merely appointed to the position. She had no hand in creating it...at least none that I can prove in a court of law. She’s been put on temporary administrative leave...but that can be overturned by the Minister for Magic. Fudge probably won’t stick around long, and he probably wouldn’t bring Umbridge back for fear of damaging himself further...but I wouldn’t put it past his successor to quietly put Umbridge back in her old post, given her experience as a ‘loyal subordinate.’”

Carewyn could not disguise her clear disgust with the situation, even despite the coolness of her voice and expression.

“I hate that woman,” she said very lowly and coldly. “I hate her with every fiber of my being.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed as he nodded. “I know how you feel. After everything Harry’s told us about her, it’s clear she’s an absolutely horrid person.”

Carewyn looked up, her eyebrows knitting together. “Yes...how is Harry? I heard he was here at the Ministry, when...”

She trailed off, but Bill knew what she meant.

“He’s doing as well as to be expected, from what Ron’s said in his letters. Though I suspect the loss of Sirius is probably hitting him very hard.”

Carewyn bowed her head. “...Yes, of course. He...was his only family left, wasn’t he?”

Bill nodded. Carewyn closed her eyes sadly -- even if she had yet to meet Harry, it was clear she felt very deeply for him, in that moment.

Bill reached a hand out over the desk and took Carewyn’s hand (which of course at the moment was Chester’s), offering her a smile.

“He’s still got all of us, though,” he said reassuringly. “And well...I reckon the two of us know better than anyone how friends can become family.”

Carewyn’s expression softened noticeably. She gave Bill’s hand a tight squeeze.

“We do.”

Her eyes welled up with emotion despite the calm of her face.

“Bill...it’s so good to see you,” she said very quietly.

Her voice betrayed emotions that she never would’ve felt brave enough to show in school. Despite the levelness of her tone, it was so warm and soft -- full of sincere caring.

Bill’s eyes filled up with some tears as he squeezed her hand back.

And as Bill held her gaze, he noticed her eyes changing color -- lightening from a dark brown to a pretty blue.

“Guess it’s time,” he prompted her. “Do you need to change?”

“I suppose so,” Carewyn said dryly. “Chester doesn’t have hips like mine...I reckon I might tear his pants, if I don’t. Mind turning around a minute?”

“No problem.”

Bill turned in the chair so that his long legs were propped up on the arm, resting an arm on his knee so that he could then proceed to lean his chin on his hand and glance away. He heard Carewyn murmur, “Auravelum,” under her breath, presumably to obscure her desk from sight.

There was a lot of shuffling. After a couple of minutes, Carewyn murmured, “Evanesco,” and Bill looked up as the silvery blue curtain she’d conjured vanished.

And there she was -- dressed in flowing forest green robes just like the ones Chester had been wearing while disguised as her, and grinning broadly up at him through a ruby red smile.

Bill’s face broke into a larger grin, his brown eyes sparkling at the sight of his best friend. He got up, swept around the desk, and snatched her up in a huge hug.

The two of them were a funny sight -- a gangling, leather-dressed Cursebreaker with a fang earring and a ponytail hugging a tiny, lady-like witch with makeup and conservative dress robes -- but they clung to each other with an almost fierce kind of affection, laughing happily.

“I have so much to tell you,” murmured Bill. “I hardly know where to start...”

Carewyn’s lips spread into a smile even as her own eyes welled up with tears. “I don’t have as much to tell, I’m sure, but...I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too,” said Bill. “Not being able to write, or visit -- having to just stay in touch through Tonks and Jae -- ”

“ -- and for a whole year,” Carewyn agreed. “I know.”

She reached up as high as she could, even going on her tiptoes, so she could hold the back of Bill’s head. Bill held the back of her head too, squeezing her tight.

“Are you really engaged now?” asked Carewyn curiously.

Bill was a bit startled. He smiled a bit sheepishly over Carewyn’s shoulder.

“Oh, ah...yeah. You heard about that?”

“No,” said Carewyn uncomfortably. “I...sort of sensed it. In your thoughts.”

Bill pulled away to look at her better, a bit affronted. “Carey!”

Carewyn looked very apologetic as her gaze drifted down to rest on Bill’s shoulder rather than his face.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t actively using my Legilimency, it’s just...gotten so sensitive now, in this line of work. And I suppose it was one of those things you really wanted to tell me, because I kept seeing you holding a ring, and...well, you asked me to be more open with you, about things.”

Bill’s face was flushed slightly, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling wryly.

“...So I did. Kind of took some of the wind out of my sails, though.”

Carewyn shot him a cool look through her own light blush. “I’m sure you’ll get back at me for it at some point.”

“Rest assured I will,” said Bill with a grin. “Maybe at the wedding.”

Carewyn blinked in surprise. Then her eyes widened, softening visibly.

“...Are you inviting me?”

“Of course I am!” Bill laughed. “There’s no way in Hell I’m going to let you get away with not being part of it. Actually...”

Bill’s face flushed a bit and he brought a hand up to rub his neck self-consciously.

“...I was...wondering if you’d maybe...if you wanted to...if you’d sing something, for it.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened. “Sing at your wedding?”

“Something for our first dance,” mumbled Bill, smiling shyly through his darkening flush. “Would you?”

Carewyn covered her mouth with both hands, trying to hold in her emotions.

“Of course!” she breathed, her voice oddly high in her throat. Clearly she was very touched.

She quickly grabbed both of Bill’s hands in hers, her blue eyes shining.

“Of course I’ll sing for you...both of you.”

Bill’s flushed face was as bright as a sunrise as he beamed.

“You can pick the song,” he said, his smile becoming a bit more cheeky. “Even something stupid, if you want.”

Carewyn laughed behind her hand. “No way! I am not going to sing something stupid for my best friend’s wedding!”

“Aw...but ‘Agadoo’ is a real jam, isn’t it?”

“It’s complete and utter rubbish and you know it, William Weasley.”

34 notes · View notes

noramoya · 5 years

Text

#FactsDontLiePeopleDo #FactsMatter #MJisINNOCENT #MJisTheRealVictim

“Whether you believe Michael Jackson’s two accusers or not, there’s no denying the Leaving Neverland film is incredibly one-sided. Not a single person other than Wade Robson, James Safechuck and their families was interviewed, while the Michael Jackson Estate was not even given a right of reply to the claims. This violates all norms and ethics in filmmaking and journalism.

More crucially, director Dan Reed decided not to include a whole host of other important information about the accusers’ past and their behaviour. Why? Because it might have discredited Robson and Safechuck. Yet... journalism is about seeking the truth. But Reed made no attempts to scrutinize and investigate whether the men’s allegations are indeed true, he just took them at face value and recorded them.

Jackson Estate attorney, Howard Weitzman, said that Reed “refused to devote even one minute of a 240-minutes film to any of the mountainous evidence showing that Robson and Safechuck are lying”.[i]

If these accusations had come to court while Jackson was alive, he would have been able to offer a defence. But, as he’s dead, he can’t present any sort of mitigating evidence against the accusations. So that’s where the documentary maker comes in, to provide balance.

Unless you are in the Michael Jackson fan community, or a journalist who has researched the subject – and few have, by the way – you aren’t going to know about the publicly available information which would have formed part of Jackson’s defence.

Viewers of the documentary are essentially the jury – but Leaving Neverland only gave them the prosecution’s side. When Reed was asked in an interview why he didn’t include the other side of the story, he said: “What is the other side of the story? That Michael Jackson was a great entertainer and a great guy?” Of course, people who allege abuse deserve to be heard. But as Jackson is dead, the defence his Estate might have put forward deserves to be heard too. Here is just some of the information viewers of Leaving Neverland really should have been told.

WADE ROBSON’S BEHAVIOUR BETWEEN JACKSON’S DEATH AND MAKING ALLEGATIONS IN 2013 :

•In the days after Jackson’s death, Robson released a statement praising Jackson as “one of the main reasons I believe in the pure goodness of human kind.”[iii]

•He asked Jackson’s nephew for tickets to the memorial at Staples Center, before trying to solicit work from Kenny Ortega, the director of Michael Jackson’s This Is It, to work on the movie.

•Robson was able to secure work with Janet Jackson, in her 2009 MTV Video Music Awards tribute to her late brother.

•In 2011, Robson approached John Branca, co-executor of the Michael Jackson Estate, about directing the new Michael Jackson/Cirque du Soleil production, ONE. Robson admitted he wanted the job “badly,” but the Estate ultimately chose someone else for the position.[iv]

•That same year, Robson attempted to sell several items of Michael Jackson memorabilia anonymously. According to Julien’s Auctions, Robson “needed the money”.[v]

•In 2012, Robson had a nervous breakdown, triggered, he said, by an obsessive quest for success. His career, in his own words, began to “crumble.”[vi]

•That same year, Robson began shopping a book that claimed he was sexually abused by Michael Jackson. No publisher picked it up.[vii]

•In the draft version of the book, Robson called himself a “master of deception”.[viii]

THE LAWSUIT :

•Leaving Neverland does mention that both Robson and Safechuck testified under oath in 1993 that Jackson had never abused them, while Robson also went on to testify at Jackson’s 2005 trial, again denying that anything ever happened. Robson never wavered in the face of withering cross-examination from one of California’s toughest prosecutors.

•But the documentary all but ignores Robson and Safechuck’s lawsuits against the Jackson Estate for hundreds of millions of dollars —which were dismissed and are currently under appeal.

•The suit is mentioned fleetingly, although neither Robson nor Safechuck are questioned by Reed about the ongoing litigation, or their motives for pursuing it.

•Robson filed a $1.5 billion dollar civil lawsuit/creditor’s claim in 2013. He first filed it under seal (a procedure allowing sensitive or confidential information to be filed with a court without becoming a matter of public record), in the hope of reaching a financial settlement with the Jackson Estate out of the public eye.

•As for Safechuck, by his own admission, he did not “realize” that he had been abused until after he saw Robson being interviewed on television in May 2013 about his claim of abuse.[ix]

•Yet in Leaving Neverland, Safechuck claims he knew he’d been abused when he told his mother that Jackson was “evil” during Jackson’s trial in 2005.

•Estate attorney Howard Weitzman says that by 2013, Safechuck “was in serious need of money, the failed dreams of a successful acting and music career having long since passed him by”.[x]

•After Robson filed his suit, Safechuck contacted Robson’s lawyers and filed copycat lawsuits against the Estate for millions of dollars.

•The Estate spent years litigating with Robson and Safechuck, and the four different lawsuits by the two men were eventually dismissed by a California judge in 2017.

THE LIES IN COURT :

•To be clear, the judge ruled that Jackson’s companies were not liable for any possible actions by Jackson; he did not rule on the credibility of the men’s allegations. But the trial judge in Robson’s initial case against the Estate disregarded his sworn statements on a summary judgment motion.[xi]

•Jackson estate attorney Howard Weitzman said Robson was “caught lying repeatedly” in the dismissed litigations.[xii] Weitzman said: “For example, in order to try to get around the statute of limitations for monetary claims against the Estate, Robson testified under oath that ‘prior to March 4, 2013, I did not understand or was even aware that an Estate had been opened for administration’.”[xiii]

•The attorney said this was “a lie”, as Robson had in fact met with John Branca, one of the Estate’s executors, in 2011 in his failed effort to solicit work with the Estate on a Michael Jackson-themed Cirque du Soleil show.[xiv]

•Weitzman added: “The trial judge found one of Robson’s lies so incredible that the trial judge disregarded Robson’s sworn declaration and found that no rational jury could possibly believe Robson’s sworn statements.”[xv]

•Weitzman said Robson was also trying to hide evidence, before his cases were dismissed. “For example,” Weitzman said, “Robson lied under oath and stated that, other than one brief email in late 2012, he had had “no written communications” with anyone (other than his attorneys) about his newly-concocted allegations that he was abused by Jackson.

•This turned out to be a complete and utter lie. Robson had actually shopped a book about his allegations in the year prior to filing his lawsuit—a book he tried to hide from the Estate.”[xvi]

STORY’S INCONSISTENCY :

•Weitzman said Robson’s book told a completely different story of how he was first abused by Jackson. When asked about some of these discrepancies at his deposition, Robson explained that his memories had “evolved” since writing the draft of the book in late 2012 and early 2013.[xvii]

•During his lawsuit against Jackson’s Estate, Robson was ordered by the court to produce all documents about written communications with anyone about his supposed abuse.

•In one email, he listed over 20 different questions to his mother asking her about the specific details of his interactions with Jackson. Some of these included: “Can you explain all that you remember of that first night at Neverland? What happened when we drove in, what did we do? And that first weekend at Neverland?”[xviii]

•Despite telling the detailed story of his first night at Neverland, in the documentary, as if it is his own memory, at his deposition, Robson admitted that he “did not know” if his memory of that night “came from [his] own recollection or [if] it was told to [Robson] by someone else.”[xix]

•Another email showed that Robson found one particular story from the early 1990s which specifically named him and his mother. He emailed it to his mother and asked whether it was true. She replied, ‘Wow, none of that is true’. But Robson included it in his story regardless.[xx]

•Safechuck, meanwhile, claimed in his sworn declaration that he was first abused on the Paris leg of the Bad Tour in late June 1988.[xxi]

•He later said that, after the tour ended, Jackson flew him out to New York “in February 1989” where Jackson was performing at the Grammy’s. Safechuck stated that he was abused on this trip. However, the Grammy’s were not in New York, in 1989; it were in Los Angeles that year and Jackson did not perform.

•Jackson performed at the Grammy’s, in New York, in February 1988, before Safechuck claims he was first abused.[xxii]

•In the documentary, Safechuck also makes a claim that he refused to testify for Jackson, in the 2005 trial. However, neither Jackson nor his legal team could have called Safechuck as a witness, as the judge ruled that ‘evidence as to Jimmy Safechuck will not be needed’.[xxiii]

HOW MUCH THE ACCUSERS OWN MICHAEL JACKSON’S ESTATE/ THE APPEAL :

•Dan Reed said Robson and Safechuck “have no financial interest in the documentary whatsoever”.[xxiv] But both are in debt since before make the accusations and also in debt to Jackson’s Estate by significant sums.

•Robson owes the Estate almost $70,000 dollars in court costs, and Safechuck owes the Estate several thousand dollars as well.[xxv]

•Robson and Safechuck are pursuing appeals of the judgments against them, appeals that will probably be heard this year.

•Estate attorney Weitzman says the pair are using the Leaving Neverland documentary to revive their dismissed lawsuits. It is just another tool in their litigation playbook, which they are obviously using in a very misguided effort to somehow affect their appeals,�� he said.[xxvi]

•Weitzman added: “The film ignores the countless facts and circumstances evincing that these stories have been trumped up by Robson, Safechuck, and their shared litigation attorneys as part of an ongoing campaign of lawsuits, where they are attempting to recover hundreds of millions of dollars in damages against the Jackson Estate and affiliated companies for the supposed abuse they suffered.”[xxvii].

BRETT BARNES :

•During one scene of the documentary, Wade Robson’s mother explains that she got very upset with Jackson when he told her that he would not be taking Robson on the Dangerous World Tour. Mrs Robson added that she was especially upset because Jackson had taken another boy and his family on the tour.

•Footage of the boy, Brett Barnes, and Jackson on the Dangerous World Tour was then shown. Robson then said that was when he realised he had been “replaced” by that boy. Any reasonable viewer would interpret that to mean that Jackson was also sexually abusing Barnes on the tour. In the documentary, a brief written denial from Barnes features on the screen, inserted after Brett Barnes denied and threatened them with a suit .

•Barnes is said to be considering suing hbo, alleging that Leaving Neverland insinuates he was abused by Jackson.[xxix] He was also not consulted about his inclusion in the film.

•Barnes wrote on Twitter: “Not only do we have to deal with these lies, but we’ve also got to deal with people perpetuating these lies.

•”The fact that they fail to do the small amount of research it takes to prove these are lies, by choice or not, makes it even worse.”[xxx]

•After Robson first went on television in May 2013 to talk about his alleged abuse, Barnes said, on a tweet : “I wish people would realise, that, in your last moments on this earth, all the money in the world will be of no comfort. My clear conscience will.”[xxxi]

•The documentary ratings would surely not have been affected if Reed had chosen to make a more balanced film. The two men agreed to do the film after their lawsuits against Jackson’s Estate, in which they sought millions of dollars, were thrown out. So, as a journalist , Reed had a duty to challenge them, rather than just take the accusations at face value. You’ve heard the prosecution, but not the defence. And that’s a failure in journalism.”

— Mike Smallcombe is a UK journalist and author of a biography on Michael Jackson, Making Michael.

6 notes · View notes

keywestlou · 3 years

Text

NEW YEAR'S CURFEW A DISASTER IN THE MAKING

I have never seen Duval as crowded as it was at 2 yesterday afternoon. Good luck to the police having everyone off the streets by 10:30 tonight.

I was downtown because of a doctor visit. Thought I’d take a look at Duval. What a look! Nothing but people.

Traffic bumper to bumper going both ways. Creeping. Took forever to travel 2 blocks. I got off as soon as I could. Went to Whitehead to get out of Dodge.

Let me share what I observed. Note I took into consideration it was raining. Still the biggest crowd I have seen, rain or no rain.

People waiting to get into the Clam Shack went all the way down to Antonia’s. It was the same the 2 blocks I traversed. Everyone waiting in the rain in long lines to get into sandwich shops for lunch.

No social distancing. Little mask wearing. About one third.

Lots of families.

It was reported last week that the hotels were at 93 percent capacity when the curfew was announced. A few days later, it was reported 50 percent had cancelled. Then yesterday it was reported the hotels were 80 percent occupied. Not bad. Still making money. Ninety three percent meant about 50,000 tourists in for the weekend. Eighty percent drops the number by 10 percent. Forty thousand people still a lot.

Hemingway House. The line was around the corner almost down to Duval.

The Southernmost Point. The line was down to Duval.

In all instances described, it was raining heavy and light all the time. People not concerned. Joking, laughing, enjoying themselves.

The Key West police will have their hands full tonight. Duval will be extremely crowded. Probably will not look any different than previous years. Local police will need the help of the Sheriff’s Department and smaller police forces from up the road communities.

The mass ain’t going to move easily.

January 6 I fear will be a day that will go down in history. Could be remembered as Pearl Harbor is.

It is the day Congress convenes to certify the Electoral College vote.

Usually routine. Actually a ministerial act. Not this year, however.

To call for discussion requires one member of the House and one member from the Senate to protest. They have committed. There will be a contenuous floor debate. To no avail. The Rubicon has been crossed. The die set.

The one Senator required to initiate a floor debate is Josh Hawley, a Republican from Missouri. Well thought of. Not one of the wild ones.

Then why is he the “spoiler?” McConnell has even given up. Biden has been duly elected. He wanted all the Republicans to vote in a perfunctory manner. Lost Hawley.

Hawley wants to run for President in 2024. Some think he made this move to ingratiate himself with Trump and Trump’s supporters.

Hawley’s position is elections should be investigated by Congress. Pray tell, where in the Constitution is it so stated? Appears to me Hawley is making his move with Giuliani providing the legal basis.

This bullshit should have stopped long ago. We are as close to stepping over and becoming a third world country as can be. A next step could result in open conflict.

There have been 60 lawsuits re the election issue. Trump won only one. He had good lawyers! What a joke! More than 90 federal and state judges heard the cases and found no fraud.

Trump the major rabble rouser. He tweeted asking his supporters to come to Washington on January 6 to protest. He said, “See you in DC!”

Proud Boys are coming. Trump supporters. Far right, near fascist, limited to male membership only.

They carry guns and knives. Several people were knifed at the last protest Proud Boys attended. They are thriving on the legitimacy Trump has given them over the past several months.

I have a concern. Trump’s people protesting could lead to some sort of riot. I can visualize Proud Boys and other Trump supporters invading the halls of Congress and the Chamber itself.

My friends, we are that close to tyranny of such a nature. Be not blinded. Democracy is on the line.

Violence could also occur on the floor of the 2 houses of Congress, the combatants being elected legislators physically attacking each other.

Don’t say no. It has occurred more than 90 times already in the history of our country.

Things wee so bad in the 19th century that Congressional persons went to work carrying pistols and bowie knives. And sometimes used them on colleagues.

Some examples.

The best known fight took place on the Senate floor on May 22, 1856. House member Preston Brooks entered the Senate chamber. He was a pro slavery Southerner.

He walked over to Senator Sumner and hit him on the head with a cane. He then proceeded to beat the anti-slavery Senator into unconsciousness. Brooks walked out of the Senate with no one stopping him.

The fight was one of the many tensions within the country over the issue of slavery.

In 1838, one Congressman killed another in a duel which arose because of politics. In 1838, an insult to a Congressman was considered an insult to his political Party.

Serious business. A matter of honor.

Two congressmen, one a Whig and the other a Democrat, who had no personal disagreement or dislike for each other, were designated to represent their respective parties.

The duel took place on February 24, 1838. Rifles were used. Neither man a good shot.

They missed each other in rounds 1 and 2. In the third round, Congressman Graves was shot and killed.

At 2 in the morning in 1858, the House was still in session. A “full fledged sectional fight” took place on the floor.

A southern Representative grabbed a northern Representative by the throat. The northern Representative was black. While choking the northern Representative, the southern one said he would teach the “black representative puppy” a lesson.

An all out brawl developed. Fists utilized. About 30 Representatives involved.

Lets move into the 20th century.

A debate was taking place on the Senate floor involving Philadelphia Island. Senators Benjamin Tillman and Senator John McLaurin were both Democrats and represented South Carolina.

Tillman accused McLaurin of “treachery” for voting with the Republicans re the Philadelphia Island annexation. Tillman said McLaurin did so because he was promised governmental patronage for South Carolina.

Words flew. Tillman attacked McLaurin. Other Senators not involved were hit by the combatants during the fray.

Both were later censured by the Senate.

An almost “today” event. March 4, 1955. House of Representatives. Democratic representatives Thomas Downey and Dornan involved.

Vietnam was long over. Dornan called Downey a “draft dodging wimp” because he had a medical deferment during the war.

Words continued to be exchanged. An additional personal issue came into play which had occurred 2 years earlier.

While meeting on the House floor and during the “wimp” issue, they began tie grabbing and choking each other. Dire threats were made.

Immediately following the dispute, Downey complained to Speaker Tip O’Neill. Many considered Downey so doing as childish.

The next day, O’Neill condemned the behavior of both saying: “You can settle this on the street, but don’t settle it on the House floor.”

Can any of these type activities happen today? Absolutely! The two parties hate each other. Half the country believes Trump almost as their cult leader. Trump is encouraging physical engagement as he continues to cry ballot box cheating.

Could happen January 6. Hopefully not.

Enjoy your day! An early Happy and Prosperous New Year to each of you!

NEW YEAR’S CURFEW A DISASTER IN THE MAKING was originally published on Key West Lou

0 notes

repwinpril9y0a1 · 7 years

Text

Veterans And Anti-War Activists Make Peace With Vietnam -- And Each Other

Your browser does not support HTML5 video.

DA NANG, Vietnam ― The street that leads to David Clark’s home is marked with a sign that says “Ushi’s house.” That’s the name of his wife, born in the year of the buffalo under the Vietnamese zodiac. Clark is also a buffalo ― that’s what makes them a good match, he says.

In other ways, they’re a surprising pair: Clark first came to Da Nang in 1968 as a 19-year-old Marine fighting in the Vietnam War. He returned to the country four decades later to see what had become of it. He met Ushi, who is Vietnamese, a few years later at a restaurant she owns in the town of Hue.

He remembers she was wearing a chartreuse dress, with long earrings and a watch to match. They later danced in the street as Ushi’s favorite song ― the Beatles’ “Eight Days a Week” ― played at a festival.

The two fell in love and married in a Catholic church while wearing traditional Vietnamese wedding clothes. Later, they bought a house near the beach in Da Nang and remodeled it to add some Western elements, including a filter that lets them drink straight from the kitchen sink.

On a warm night this spring, with the sounds of karaoke wafting through the streets from nearby bars and restaurants, Clark’s house offered another example of worlds colliding. A group that in the late 1960s wouldn’t have been caught under the same roof ― let alone sharing an appetizer of deep-fried Vietnamese spring rolls ― gathered around a large kitchen table.

The guests included Floyd Henderson, a Vietnam War draft dodger who fled to Canada in 1969; Cathy Wilkerson, a former member of the militant Weather Underground group who landed on the FBI’s “10 Most Wanted” list; and Chuck Searcy, who also served in the Vietnam War and has since returned to live in Hanoi.

Searcy is also the vice president of the Vietnamese chapter of Veterans for Peace, an anti-war nonprofit. Through the organization, he leads tours of the country geared toward Vietnam War veterans and activists, but anyone is welcome to join. That’s what brought the unlikely group together at that kitchen table ― it was 12th day of their trip from Hanoi to Saigon.

For some, going back to Vietnam is a way to make peace with the past. For others, the trip is a chance to connect with a place and a cause that still matters deeply to them.

War tourism isn’t a new concept, and veterans have been returning to Vietnam for years. But Searcy says he probably won’t keep hosting his tour. The affected generation is aging, and it’s difficult to get enough interest in the trips to justify them. Ten people traveled with him this year; usually about 15 people join.

Searcy was stationed in Saigon from 1967 to 1968 as part of an intelligence battalion. He returned to the country for the first time in 1992, and moved there three years later to take a job at a nonprofit in Hanoi.

His tour takes a little over two weeks. It costs $2,750, plus airfare, and participants are asked to bring a gift of $1,000. At the end of the journey, they decide together how to donate the money.

Clark has been on the board of Vietnam’s Veterans for Peace chapter for several years, which is how he met Searcy. He describes Searcy in military terms: a point man leading others to learn how to make amends for the United States’ role in the war.

Clark has taken part in a few of Searcy’s trips, but this is his first year hosting a dinner and welcoming people on the tour into his home.

“If you had told me 40 years ago that I’d be here in Vietnam, I’d have said you’re full of shit as a turkey ― a Christmas turkey,” he said. “I came here in 1968 to die for my country. Thank God I didn’t. You know what’s the greatest gift I have? I get to die here of my own choice.”

For Wilkerson, the 2017 trip was a chance to complete a journey she started 50 years ago.

In 1967, she and three other members of Students for a Democratic Society flew from the U.S. to Cambodia by way of Paris. Their goal was to make their way to meet with the Viet Cong in North Vietnam and bring back information to help their anti-war efforts in the U.S.

It was a bloody year in the Vietnam War, and Hanoi wasn’t accessible by a commercial flight. But the activists planned to hitch a ride on a mail plane that made a daily trip to the city because an international agreement dictated that it wouldn’t be shot down, Wilkerson said.

They never made it across the border. The U.S. had started bombing the northern city, and the North Vietnamese decided it was too dangerous for the students to make the trip. So the North Vietnamese met them in Phnom Penh for four days of meetings and discussion.

Wilkerson caught the attention of national news ― and the FBI ― when her father’s New York City townhouse, where she and other activists had been building a nail bomb, exploded in 1970. Three people died in the incident, and Wilkerson spent the next decade evading authorities by working minimum-wage jobs without an ID. She surrendered to law enforcement in 1980 and spent 11 months in prison.

Wilkerson is petite and shy, with silver-framed glasses. Her outward appearance doesn’t match with the ‘60s radical who got caught up in a group advocating for an “armed struggle” against the U.S. government. But she still describes herself as an activist.

The events leading up to the townhouse explosion were “ill-advised,” Wilkerson said. But even as she grew older, she maintained an interest in Vietnam.

“People don’t think about the consequences of war beyond the bullets,” she said. “I needed to touch base with [Vietnam] again. To see what they’ve done, how far they’ve come.”

Floyd Henderson describes how he feels today about his choice to flee to Canada instead of being drafted into the Vietnam War. Listen above.

Henderson joined Searcy’s trip for the first time in 2014. Forty-five years earlier, he’d received a bench warrant for his arrest after ignoring several draft notices.

When his brother threatened to turn him into the FBI, Henderson took the $700 he had in his sock drawer and spent $250 of it on a Buick. He packed his typewriter, guitars and other possessions and drove with a friend to International Falls, Minnesota. Henderson had no intention of coming back once they crossed into Canada.

“I didn’t want to kill ― I had no desire whatsoever to shoot another human being for any reason,” he said.

Although he’d made it across the border, he didn’t have a legal right to be in the country permanently. “I spent that winter living pretty much on the street,” he said.

Henderson later secured a legal right to be in Canada, but eventually returned to the U.S. after President Jimmy Carter pardoned draft dodgers.

Henderson is gentle and thoughtful when he speaks. He has spent a great deal of time considering his choice to flee the U.S. in 1969 while so many others were getting drafted. “Sometimes it’s an almost constant ― regret might not be the right word for it, though it’s probably the closest I can come to it ― that I did not go to Vietnam.”

He’d make the same decision again, he noted. But still, he struggles with what he described as “survivor guilt.” That feeling was what originally brought him on Searcy’s tour in 2014.

That group included many combat veterans, which made Henderson nervous. “I went with a huge amount of trepidation because I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I was going to get from these guys,” he said.

He was surprised at the response he received. “Without a single hesitation, they accepted me as one of them,” he said. “Even going so far as to call me a veteran and one of their brothers.”

He joined the trip again this time for another chance to see the country.

Clark joined the United States Marine Corps on his 17th birthday. On a warm day in March at the hotel where Searcy’s group was staying, he recounted arriving in Vietnam for the first time. He couldn’t legally vote or drink in his hometown, but here, he could carry a gun. He remembers that vividly.

It was a court-martial offense to leave the compound without a weapon, so Clark always had his M16 and rounds with him. And when he encountered a Vietnamese person, he remembers what he’d do.

“Every time I came across the Vietnamese ― I didn’t care if it was a man, woman or a child ― I would point that M16 in their face. And I wanted them to fear me. Because I felt if they feared me my chances of going home were much, much better,” Clark said.

Clark was outwardly successful in the U.S. after the war, but he struggled emotionally to come to terms with his experiences. He couldn’t forget that look of fear he’d put in people’s faces. Or the battles where he’d shoot into the fray, not knowing whom or what he might be hitting. Certain dates or moments that were meaningless to others would trigger terrible memories of the war.

In 2007, a friend who had been in the Air Force suggested Clark try going back to Vietnam. So he went for it. He landed in Saigon and was waiting nervously at immigration when the humidity hit him, then the smell ― and then he saw people. The memories came right back. He wanted to turn around.

But he didn’t. In fact, the trip turned out to be a positive experience. He couldn’t believe how welcoming the Vietnamese people were. He visited several other times, and in 2013, he returned to stay for a year.

He hasn’t left since.

Clark likes to visit the Marble Mountains outside Da Nang, which he used to climb when he was stationed here. He watches the sunrise and looks out over the landscape ― sometimes it’s cloudy, sometimes it’s rainy. But the sun always comes up.

“When I’m in the United States, the American war in Vietnam haunts me every day and every night. I see many sights, and I see those faces,” he said. “But when I’m in Vietnam and I’m on the top of Marble Mountain and I’m looking around and I don’t see no flares, no tracers, no choppers, no gunfire, no artillery fire, no rounds going over your head ― the American war was over 40 years ago. They’re at peace here. And I find peace here.”

David talks about how living in Vietnam has helped him come to terms with his experiences from the war. Listen above.

As everyone sat around the big kitchen table enjoying Ushi’s homemade yogurt for dessert, Clark poured two glasses of Johnnie Walker Red Label scotch. He clinked glasses with George Mische, another participant on the trip. Mische burned draft cards with homemade napalm in 1968 as part of the Catholic group that became known as the “Catonsville Nine.”

Searcy told the group his story of first returning to Vietnam after the war, describing how he panicked as his plane approached the Saigon airport.

His anxiety was so intense that he would have turned the plane around, he said. But he couldn’t.

The group listened, smiling and nodding over their shared history.

As the evening drew to a close, Searcy’s tour participants bid goodbye to their hosts. They got back on a bus and made their way to their hotel. The next morning they’d eat warm, salty fried rice or pho, a traditional Vietnamese soup, at the hotel breakfast buffet before heading to the airport. From there, they’d fly south to Saigon.

Clark left the house and walked down dark, warm streets to one of his favorite local cafes. He smoked thuoc lao, a Vietnamese tobacco, out of a water pipe, the bubbles gurgling. Motorbikes hummed along past the café, and he greeted the two children inside the shop. It’s his favorite place in the city, he said.

Heading back home afterward, he called “hello, hello” to the Vietnamese people he passed. They smiled and waved back.

type=type=RelatedArticlesblockTitle=Related Coverage + articlesList=58f62c21e4b04cae050dcae7,58ab30cbe4b03250fc905d7f,581edc7ce4b01022624118aa

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2qD77Es

#DIYS

0 notes

pat78701 · 7 years