Of course, Michael had promised to give “our school” a tenth of it, and Michael was adamant he was going to. Alex was equally adamant that if he did, we’d probably get charged with “exploiting a minor.” I pointed out that the last guy who’d tried to issue process against us had fallen dead in the attempt. What they agreed to do was let him “loan” us the money, Dad pay him interest, which he’d then donate to the school - and when he turned eighteen, he could either donate the principal, or have it back, with interest.
Since the end of the age is going to come before then, I thought it was all pretty meaningless - but I knew what they don’t - that during the “wild ride” we’re going on during the next few months, I’ll collect more than a quarter billion dollars of my own - exclusive of the collection money - and “loan” it to the school, on the same terms.
That night at the tent, we again had the largest crowd thus far, and the TV station showed up, and wanted to film Doug testifying. I insisted on first singing O Thou That Tellest Good Tidings to Zion, because Kenny and I re determined to shove some Kultur down the throats of “our loyal supporters.”
It’s an alto solo, and I sang it in the tenor range - although I could have “channeled” an alto voice. Billy wrote that we’d gotten a score written for tenor. He doesn’t know much about music. Kenny managed to simply transpose it in his head, and play it in a different key - quite a tour de force, considering the complexity of the accompaniment.
Then Doug did the whole spiel - lying in his box - and could truthfully say, “A week ago I was sleeping in this box down at the corner of 35th and Pine.” We showed the video of Mr. Burns paying him off, he pulled the gun out and put it against my head - he talked about his vision of hell - the works.
After that, Doug and I sang, and I first opened the sealed envelope, then let the judge speak his piece. Then I put Michael up to testify and hold up the deposit slip. He did announce that he was enrolling in our school “tomorrow morning.” We engaged in a bit of verbal jousting.
The best exchange was his line, “How much discipline can a guy get for a hundred grand?”, and my reply, “More than CPS thinks you should have!” Of course, since CPS doesn’t’ think kids should be spanked at all, one swat would have been more than they thought he should have gotten.
Then Mr. Huber got up and asked the folks to sign petitions for the governor to pardon Doug, and Sammy got up and asked them to do it “because Doug helped me.” Then I read some Scripture, made a few comments, sang one more song, and dismissed. I did “tease” the service tomorrow night by saying we’d announce “final plans” for Friday’s rally.
When we got home, I told the guys that, now that we’d “rescued” Doug, we had to get back to the matter of destroying CPS. I shocked them by suggesting the obvious - that if it didn’t “work,” the adults would all wind up in jail, and we guys in foster care.
When Bob reacted strongly, I told him, truthfully, that I’d never felt perfectly confident about any of it, and told them what they’d not known, about my being so frightened the night before Doug shot me. And I told them we were having an all-night “vigil” tomorrow - Thursday - night, and that I wanted him to beat me after tomorrow night’s service, and any of the others who wanted to volunteer.
Of course, that was enough to get them all to rush up and volunteer - they almost knocked Bob and me over. So we decided Doug and I would go first, since we’re the ones who had to make it happen - then the rest, in their usual order of age.
Since we were having another “vigil,” Bob was going to call off school. But I told him one thousand of our “supporters” were going to be at the airport to see Mr. Huber off (there was no need to - it was a thoroughly routine flight to Boise with a (large) box of papers), and expected to see us there. Bob shrugged and said, “Sure - maybe we can rest later (but there was to be little rest until this “wild ride” is over).
But I wanted to talk to Billy alone, and got Bob to say it was OK - so again Frankie took Billy and me to the burger joint, and left us to sit alone and talk. I told him, what God has now shown me, that tomorrow night, during our “vigil,” CPS is going to try again to take me out.
It’s going to be messy- lots of blood - and I told him so - but Doug’s going to bring me back. But I also said to him, “Suppose it doesn’t work? This really might be my last night on earth.” Billy urged me not to “take the risk”, and offered - as he’s done before - to split his money with me. I scoffed at the notion that “kneeling to pray in our church was a “risky” thing.
Then I hit him with the second thing - that after the building collapses Friday - as it will - I’ve got to climb atop the pile of burning debris, proclaim victory, and shout “Sic Semper Tyrannis!” I pray that I’ll have the courage to walk into the flames - I am, frankly, scared to do it, but know that God’s preparing me, testing me, for the more severe trials ahead. I pictured my standing beside Sammy’s wheel chair and saying, “I’m sorry - you’ve got to stay crippled, because I didn’t obey God.”
And I asked Billy to get Bob to hire a professional camera crew to film it, so we could prove CPS was involved. He first said, “Bob’ll do it, if you ask him,” but I explained that we couldn’t tell him why we needed it, and persuaded him to make the “pitch”. So Billy agreed to get Bob to do it for me - and he did - read on!
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Cover: Grand Concert Hall, Idaho State University
"Prof. J. led us to a recital hall . . . " Chapter 509
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