Operation l3oom

James Thomas, a convicted murderer of seven teenage girls, sat in his cell awaiting execution. It was scheduled for 12:30 this afternoon, a lethal injection as everyone liked to call it. How he got here, in this disgusting, horrible place was that when he was on a cruise to Hawaii, he apparently called the police telling them where to find seven bodies, and ultimately where to find him. So as he was getting a massage on the cruise ship, six police officers stormed in and took him out with no clothes on. They even had a Navy Seals team present for back up, which was highly unneeded. So he was stuck in here awaiting death row.

He wasn’t worried one bit. His religious faith taught him to not be afraid of death, as long as one believes in the son, which he did. So the only thing he had to worry about was his wife Kaila, who was completely devastated with the whole accusations of him being a murderer, and she was the only one that believed, and knew he was innocent. She even went on trial, told everything exactly how it was. But even then the jury still showed anger, disgust, and had closed ears to everything that James and his wife had tried to tell them. They were just so disgusted with it, that they wanted someone to pay for what had been done.

So he just sat there in his cell, waiting for the time where he would be reconciled with Jesus Christ. He had fought the fight, finished the race, witnessed to many people, went to church every Sunday and Wednesday, and even went on missions trips. It was his time to go home, and he had told his wife that, but all she said was “You Always Were Strong” which was the name of a song she had been working on. Those lyrics meant so much to him, and it was what he held on to during such a hard time. His original plans for his life were to become CEO of the accounting company he worked at right now called James Mason and associates. He was already third in command, and head of the entire Great Plains operations, until he got arrested.

That shocked the company, and almost caused it to go immediately bankrupt as scared investors were worried that their stocks would fall down the drain due to “legal issues”. But there was nothing he could do anymore. The jury had given their verdict, and he was sentenced to die in just twenty minutes. CLANK CLANK CLANK. He looked up, and two men in white robes were standing at the doorway. His time had finally come. He stood up, and they opened up the cell.
“You ready?” asked one of the guys. A black man who probably weighed close to 300 lbs. He was muscular though, so it really added the intimidation factor that was needed to handle major criminals.
“Yes sir”, said James. The two men in white robes looked at each other, and then grabbed both his arms.
“So what are your names?” asked James. The big black man, looking confused finally answered.
“I am Stewart, and he is John”. The other man, that he now knew as John was a whole lot tinier then Stewart, but he was still a bit scary looking.
“Cool, I am James. What is your religious beliefs?” asked James.
“Well, I believe that there is a God in heaven, and his name is Jehovah, and that we are all going to end up in heaven with our Lord and Savior some day, yourself?” said Stewart
“Same here man, and I am glad that we share the same belief, does John ever talk?”
“No not really, but he believes in the same thing I do”, said Stewart.

The two men led him into a glass encaged room, and let him have a seat on the injection chair. Stewart then undid his hand cuffs, and strapped his arms down to the arm rests that were connected to the chair.
“So why did you, a Christian kill so many people?” asked Stewart. As James was about to answer, a man in a business suit stepped in, carrying a brief case.
“And what might you two be talking about?” asked the man.
“Oh, just how a man of religious beliefs could kill so many people”, said Stewart. The man with the briefcase, walked over to a table, set the briefcase down, then opened it up. Inside were two syringes, each one housing a 3 inch needle. The man then pulled one out, squirted a little of the excess out, and walked towards James.
“You two may leave now”, as he motioned toward Stewart and John. They nodded then walked towards one of the side doors.
“See you in Heaven”, said Stewart.
“Thanks bro, you too”, said James as he watched the two of them exit.

The man with the syringe injected the syringe into James’s arm, and an indescribable pain shot through his arm.
“Father, take me, for I have done nothing of this sort. Please let these people find out who really did this”, said James as the man prepared his second and final needle.
“Any last words mister Thomas?” asked the man.
“Yes”, said James.
“Ok what is it?”
“Please I beg you, and everyone who is watching in on this, I beg you to find out who really did this. Find out who killed these girls for my wife, because all of you are making a mistake”.
“Your time is up for explanations”, said the man. He placed the tip of the needle on James’s arm, and poked it in.
“Stewart! Find out who did this! For me, find out who did this for me! And don’t let him get away with it again!” The man with the needle pressed down, and James’s world began to fade. He began to see black, and he could feel his heart began to beat slower.
“Just as you said on the cross Oh Jesus, Father! Forgive them, for they know not what they do”. James’s body jerked up, then settled back down on the chair. James Thomas a husband, and a father of two was dead.

Stewart stared blankly at James’s dead body. Never in his twenty years of executing prisoners, had one his him so hard, not physically but mentally. In his twenty years, every prisoner always said he didn’t do it as their last words, or that they were ready to die, and had no remorse. But that was different with James. He had been so happy, and in high spirits. How could anyone be in such high spirits, when they knew they were going to die? he thought. The of course his final words which were “Father, Father, forgive them, and help them find out who did this”. Never, never in his entire career had someone prayed for the people that killed them. It was unthinkable, and unimaginable. He had never in his life felt sorrow and remorse for a murderer like that. Or was he a murderer? There was always the possibility that he wasn’t a murderer, and they had got it wrong.

Everyone had already left except him and the man with the briefcase.
“What’s your name?” asked the man with the brief case. At first the words didn’t really register with Stewart, so he decided to ask Stewart again.
“What’s your name”, he asked again.
“Oh, sorry, I am Stewart Holiday”, replied Stewart. The man walked over to the window, and motioned Stewart to step over.
“You do know that he was innocent right?” asked the man. “So he was innocent”, thought Stewart.
“How do you know?” asked Stewart. The man with the briefcase thought for a minute, decided on the best and easiest answer, then finally said:
“No prisoner, whatsoever, has every prayed for the people that put them there. It’s just unthinkable. There have been former pastors, who have come through here, and even they did not pray for their captors. The guy even asked me my name”, said the man.
“He asked me my name too”, said Stewart. “So you truly believe that he was innocent?”

The man with the briefcase walked back to a small black refrigerator in the corner, and pulled out an Aquafina water bottle.
“Would you like one?” asked the man.
“Sure”, replied Stewart. The man picked one up, and threw it at Stewart. He caught it, and looked at the label for awhile, then finally twisted it open.
“You know, for the first time in fifty years, I truly believe that the jury got this penalty wrong”, said the man. The man pulled a card out of his pocket, and handed it to Stewart.
“When you’re ready to find the people who did this, call me, and we will get to the bottom of this together. But do not question anyone about this without me ok?” But before Stewart had a chance to reply, the man walked out of the room, leaving his briefcase behind.
...
Three hours had passed since the man with the brief case had left. stewart still had his eyes wondering into the execution room. Fortunately for him, he personally knew the judge of that case, and two of the jurors were his neightbors, so he decided he would start there. He pulled out his cell phone, typed in a number, then waited. Bzzzz Bzzzz Bzzz
"Hello"
"Hey Anthony, its Stewart".
"Stewart!!! How may I help you old buddie?"
"Well, you could start by having lunch with me". Silence filled the phone, then some ruffling of papers.
"Yeah my afternoon is open, so how about the old italian place over on 4th?"
"Revistos?"asked Stewart.
"Yeap thats the one. Meet me there in half an hour ok?"
"Sure", replied Stewart. He shut his phone, and walked out of the room. It was time to find out
When Stewart finally arrived at the restaurant, he found Anthony already there waiting on him.
“Hello Stewart, it’s been a long time”, as Anthony hugged him. It felt so good to finally be reunited with an old friend, even though it had only been two weeks.
“Shall we go in?” asked Stewart.
“Sure”, said Anthony, as he opened the door motioning for Stewart to walk in first. A blonde haired hostess smiled at them, then left.
“So, what you been doing old pal?” asked Anthony.
“Oh, you know, the usual”
“Ah, making sure no death row prisoners escape eh?” The hostess came back, asked them how big a party they had, then motioned for them to follow her. Stewart even though he was huge, and married, he couldn’t help but look at her body. He was in fact a guy, so it made it even tougher.

The hostess finally took them to their table which was in a back, dark corner, and it reminded Stewart of an old sniper movie. “What was it”, he thought. The window to the left would provide an excellent targeting point, and where they were seated they would be easy targets if someone had a thermal scope. “How in the world do I know that?” he thought.
“You still with us?” asked Anthony. Stewart looked up, and a young waiter stared at him boasting a humongous smile.
“Oh, yeah sorry, I’ll have a Coke”, said Stewart. The waiter finished writing something down, then left.
“So, what do I owe this lunch to?” asked Anthony.
“Ok, you know the James Sawer case you officiated about a week ago?” Anthony thought for a minute, and then finally said:
“No, could you be more specific?” Stewart looked around, as if expecting to see some kind of serial killer, or a police officer, or someone to be watching them, but there was nothing.
“He was convicted to lethal injection; he was an alleged murder of the seven teenage girls, Remember?”
“Oh yeah, what about it?” Stewart again looked around as if he saw someone watching them, but again he found nothing.
“I think that maybe just maybe the jury got this completely wrong”.
“How do you know?” asked Anthony.
“Well, he didn’t sound guilty at all, he prayed for you all…”
“Wait a minute, what do you mean prayed for you all?” Stewart took a drink of his coke, then the waiter came back.
“What can I get you two to eat?” asked the waiter.

Dillon Ramirez ascended the stairs with blistering speed. In his left hand was his sniper rifle; a military made M40A1 dating back to 1999, and in his right hand was a detonator set to a bomb that was going to go off very soon. He kept running past the top floor, and onto the roof. The setting was perfect for cover with three ventilation shafts forming triangles, a concrete door to the stairs that extended almost 15 feet high, and a ledge that came at least a whole foot off the ground. The building was an old abandoned Wal-Mart storage center, that hadn’t seen any usage in 10 years. He finally made his way to the east corner, and knelt down. The concrete felt cold, and the rocks that were beginning to tear off the concrete, were poking holes in his skin.

Bzzzz Bzzzzz Bzzzz. He picked up his phone, and opened it up: 12’oclock, target=big man, black, in white morgue looking robe. When finished execute order BOOM. Failure=instant death. “Perfect”, thought Dillon. He pulled a key from his pocket, and unlocked the case. Inside it was his best friend, his money maker: his rifle. He took the barrel out, and attacked a silencer to the end. “It’s going to be a good day”, he said to himself. If he performed this successfully, it would be a major pay day, almost five hundred grand. Now that was his type of job. When he was finally done preparing, he placed the stand under it, and began to evaluate the situation.

The restaurant he was shooting into was surrounded by policeman, so that made it extremely hard to go unnoticed. But that’s where operation BOOM came into play, to give them something else to thing about besides a single sniper killing. His target or so he assumed, was sitting at a small table in the corner. Across from him was what seemed to him as the judge that officiated the trial of James Sawer vs. the city of New York. He had been in that room, and he knew that James was innocent, but now that dumb morgue attendee had to be snooping around with things, this whole situation was being blown out of proportion, and now he had to kill him.

The wind began to pick up again. The cool New York breeze felt good on his skin. As he pulled out two bullets from his pocket, a lone police officer entered the building across from the restaurant. That building had been abandoned for almost 20 years now, so he had to wonder what he was doing there. Finally the officer came back out of the building, entered his cruiser, and drove off. “Weird”, he thought. He checked the building one more time, and then turned back to his target. He thought about waiting until he was alone, but that would cause too much attention, so all he had to do was wait. After about ten minutes, the waiter brought out the food, which meant he wouldn’t be returning for awhile. It was the perfect time to execute his mission.

He turned the safety off, and leaned back a bit. The wind came to a sudden halt. “Perfect”, he thought. “Easy”, he said to himself. His crosshair finally met his target, and he pulled the trigger. The first bullet shattered the glass, causing a periling panic, and the second bullet struck his target square in the chest. He quickly undid the silencer, and packed up his rifle. Bzzzz Bzzzz Bzzzz He opened up his cell phone, and read:
WRONG TARGET! COMMENCE OPERATION BOOM. He closed his cell phone, and looked to see what was happening. Dozens of police officers were filing into the restraint, and even some were coming into his building. He then quickly packed up his rifle, and ran over to the door.

Inside, he could hear yelling, and lost of feet trampling up the stairs. So instead he went over to the ledge and jumped off. The fire escape extended itself, and all he had to do was jump from ledge to ledge. It was the perfect escape, and now it was time to finish his mission. He pulled out the detonator, and ran to a parked bus. The driver opened it up, and he went inside.
“Good morning”, said the bus driver. Dillon handed him some change, and bolted towards the back of the bus. People were beginning to look at him now, so he slumped down in his chair, and pressed the button on the detonator. Operation l3oom was complete.