Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC blah blah blah.
NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers
Changes to President Fitzgerald Grant's schedule for the Week…
Monday- Meeting with Senate Select Committee for Law & Order. Meeting with Urban council rescheduled
Tuesday - Meeting with National Security Council. Change of timing to meeting with Financial Regulators
Wednesday – Meeting with Military Senior Leadership. Meeting with re-election committee postponed.
Thursday– Meeting with the Attorney General. President's ribbon-cutting ceremony and school visit attended by Vice President.
When Olivia walked into the Oval Office Friday evening, Fitz was framed in twilight by the window as he stood staring out into the Rose Garden.
She paused by the door, noticing his mussed hair, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his tie and coat were tossed on a chair.
"Fitz…?"
He turned swiftly, the worry lines disappearing behind a smile which quickly turned into a grin at the sight of the plate of cookies and steaming mugs on the tray she was carrying.
"I thought you might need a coffee break." She smiled as he approached and took the tray from her hands.
Setting the tray down on the nearest table, Fitz drew her into his arms and wrapped her in a tight hug.
"Can you breathe?" he asked after a moment.
"Yes," she snuffled a laugh and burrowed deeper in his arms.
After another long moment, he muttered, "The Pentagon wants to stall the hearing with a view to backtracking and ultimately burying it."
She drew back just enough to make eye contact. "Why?"
With a heavy sigh, Fitz released her. Then taking her hand, he led her to the couch where he sat down before making her comfortable on his lap.
He stared at her solemnly as if he was trying to break bad news to her in the gentlest possible way.
"Fitz," she encouraged, lifting a hand to his lean cheek. "Why do they want to stall the hearing?"
He turned to kiss her palm, mumbling, "The 1033 Program."
"What?"
He turned to face her. "The Pentagon has been loaning surplus military equipment to civilian police departments as a cheap storage option."
Olivia frowned, dropping her hand onto his shoulder. "How much surplus equipment?"
"More than $4.3 billion since it started in 1990; $450 million was loaned out last year. Most of the equipment is brand new."
Olivia shook her head in disbelief. "So the Pentagon doesn't want taxpayers to know they've been hiding defence budget overspend in police departments?"
Fitz nodded with a wry grimace, "That's not the worst of it, Liv. We've been arming civilian police with brand new military equipment while police departments have been easing their recruitment guidelines. So here I am advocating tougher gun control, while the Pentagon has been putting assault rifles in the hands of bigots." He looked at her sadly. "More than half of all botched SWAT operations have involved ethnic minorities."
She leaned forward and kissed him gently but he still looked sad, so she nibbled on his lips. When she drew back to stare at his flushed face, he muttered, "What was I saying?"
Olivia giggled as he lowered her gently to lie on her side, sandwiched between him and the back of the couch.
She shifted closer so her bump rested against him, and then she murmured, "What are you going to do? Help Congress bury the investigation?"
He kissed her. "It's not that cut and dried. On the one hand, we have Congress, especially the Democrats, wanting to cut the defence budget because we're spending far in excess of any conceivable threat to our national security. On the other hand, the Republicans want to prove that I'm poking my big Federal snout into State politics because my Administration is in a mess. They're already lining up friendly witnesses to prove us wrong on police misconduct, Livvie. Either way, my attempt to fix the situation in Faraway County has opened a can of worms."
Seeing the heavy frown settle on his forehead, Olivia tightened her arms around his waist. "You know what's great to fix a can of worms?"
"What?" He muttered, staring at her mouth.
"Hungry birds."
He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, his face utterly serious, then without warning he launched an attack of the tickles on her.
"Fitz! Stop! I'm pregnant!" Olivia shrieked laughing, trying to push away his nimble fingers.
"Hungry birds," Fitz growled, diving in for a kiss.
"The tense situation in Faraway County is looking better."
Fitz and Olivia broke apart to stare owlishly over the back of the couch at Cyrus.
"I knocked," Cyrus said placidly. "And turned on the lights. Not that anyone noticed." Then glancing at Fitz, he murmured, "You might want to…" He waved a hand over his mouth, indicating the lipstick stains on Fitz's face. "And that too…" He waggled his hand over his chest, indicating the opening of Olivia's jacket.
Fitz reached for her jacket and buttoned it up, while Olivia rubbed the lipstick from his face.
Once they were more or less decent, Fitz turned to Olivia and muttered, "I need to remember to lock that door too."
"We have a briefing," Cyrus reminded, patiently.
There was a moment of tension as Fitz glared at Cyrus and Cyrus stared at Olivia and Olivia tried to find her shoes which had come off during the tickle session.
Then Cyrus added pointedly, "It's a private briefing."
"I'm just trying to find my shoes."
"These?" Cyrus bent down behind the arm of the couch and surfaced with her flats in his hands.
"You don't need those. You're staying," Fitz asserted, taking the shoes from Cyrus and tossing them over the other side.
Cyrus looked at Olivia and then Fitz, then rumbled a sigh and sat down on the couch opposite.
"As I was saying, the situation in Faraway County has simmered down. There's nothing like the threat of a Congressional Hearing to put everyone on their best behaviour. But the media hounds are sniffing around the Pentagon's 1033 program. They've been using police departments as cheap storage facilities for their surplus equipment."
"We were just talking about that," Olivia murmured, in a pacifying tone, venturing a smile which Cyrus didn't return.
Looking only at Fitz, Cyrus added, "We need to get the message out there that the equipment was on loan to help the police confront the threat of terrorism in their neighbourhoods."
"Except they are using the drones, automatic weapons and heavily armoured vehicles to terrorise their neighbourhoods. Why has Fargo in North Dakota paid $8 million to militarise their police when they've only averaged two murders since 2005?" Fitz glared at Cyrus.
"That's just the kind of question we're hoping to avoid" said Cyrus. "This hearing has got us between a rock and a hard place."
"A can of worms," Olivia murmured under her breath.
Fitz glanced at Olivia. "Hungry birds," he whispered back, prompting a giggle.
Cyrus looked from one to the other, then said grimly, "We need to bring this enquiry inhouse. We can control the message if the Attorney General looked into the matter. The warring factions in Congress has the potential to unearth all kinds of horrors, not just the waste in defence spending."
"The Attorney-General didn't want to touch this with a 10-foot pole, but Congress will jump at the chance for face time at a televised hearing. We just have to hope they keep the focus on racial bias."
Cyrus and Olivia exchanged a look, which made Fitz smile wryly. "Ah, I knew my naïve optimism would unite your scepticism."
Olivia chuckled, slipping her arm through his as Cyrus rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his sparsely covered head.
Just then there was a knock and Zeke poked his head around the door, "Got a minute?"
"Yeah, come on in," Fitz invited as Cyrus threw up his hands and got to his feet with an impatient shake of his head.
"What's his problem?" Zeke said as Cyrus stormed out muttering under his breath, then without waiting for an answer, he grinned at Olivia, "Look at you, all loved up and gorgeous!"
Laughing, Olivia got to her feet, feeling a delicious shiver as Fitz slid his hand from her waist down the length of her thigh to rest below her knee. "I have to go," she murmured, huskily meeting his soft gaze.
Zeke chuckled. "Oh don't go on account of me, sweetheart. I need you to stay and distract Fitz so he doesn't pay close attention to what I have to say."
"What are you going to say?" Fitz murmured, surreptitiously rubbing the back of Olivia's knee with his thumb.
"The Defence Lobby is threatening Armageddon. They've heard rumours the Hearing's going to focus on war games more than white cops killing black kids. They ain't happy about that. Not one bit. They're going straight for the Blockbuster scenario – millions of jobs lost, industry collapse and the US looking like Afghanistan after Operation Enduring Freedom when the axis of evil finds out we've got water-pistols to fight off their nuclear arsenal."
"Okay, that sounds way too serious for Baby Grant, so I have to go." Olivia stepped away from Fitz's teasing caress. Then kissed her fingertips and pressed them to his lips, managing to evade his grasp when he wanted to catch hold of her.
"Man, you are so far gone, it don't look like you're ever coming back." Olivia heard Zeke mutter as she was closing the door behind her.
"I'm a goner," confirmed Fitz sounding happy, as she shut the door on Zeke's belly laugh.
"Ma'am? Are you okay?" Lauren asked in concern when Olivia stood for a moment resting her hand against the panelling.
"I'm fine," Olivia smiled, blinking swiftly, "I just forgot my shoes."
"Oh let me get them for you," Lauren was out of her chair but Olivia shook her head.
"No, it's more comfortable if I go barefoot."
Olivia was heading back to the Residence when she got a call on her cell phone.
"Abby?"
"This isn't Abby. It's Nancy Drake."
Olivia raised a brow, surprise prompting her to ask bluntly. "How did you get this number?"
"Quinn dialled it for me. We need to talk"
"Have you found another body in your bed?"
It took Nancy several moments to reply. When she did, it was in a voice as cold as the Arctic. "Did you know that Melody Grant wanted my help in calling you out as a homewrecker?"
This time it was Olivia who took time to respond. "…No, I didn't know that."
"She wanted a Christian sister to be the first to throw mud and make it stick. If I had done that, her hands would have been clean and there would be no evidence she'd pulled my strings." Nancy paused, before adding, "But I'm no one's puppet."
The silence that followed became awkward until finally Nancy Drake broke it abruptly. "There's talk the investigation into police misconduct will get swept under the rug. The mothers in my congregation are concerned."
"I didn't know you'd become an ordained minister."
"Not yet. I'm working on it. I should have said the mothers in Pastor Drake's congregation. I still keep in close contact with them."
"I'm not sure how I can help."
"Olivia, I'm glad the President has taken on your initiative. I never thought so much good could come from a man in love with his wife. A man in love with you, Olivia…"
Olivia blinked furiously, rubbing a hand over her belly.
Nancy Drake continued unaware, "…But we cannot have you stepping back into the shadows. We need you to be more than a wife, mother and fashion icon. We need you to be the woman who stood in front of the White House gates and faced those men in white hoods. We need you to speak your truth."
Olivia sighed. "I tried but I'll be opening a can of worms that Fitz can't afford right now."
Nancy took a moment to respond, then she said in a milder tone. "This country has always been divided along racial lines; beyond black and white. The can of worms you're talking about, is putrid. It needs to be opened and shown the light of day."
"It's an election year for Fitz."
"From where I'm standing, it's clear the President wants to go down fighting for what he believes in, and protecting those he loves. In the process, if all he has to lose is the next election, he is fortunate. So many others have lost their lives fighting the good fight."
"Fitz was shot."
"By that lunatic of a wife who wanted to give him a lobotomy."
When Olivia didn't respond, Nancy took a deep breath and continued, "The President has the advantage of speaking about an emotive issue without being called emotional because he is a man. He has the advantage of speaking about injustice against minorities without being accused of taking things personally. But this is an emotional issue that is close to home. You will not be standing alone, Olivia. Let us speak with you. We must speak; our silence is not helping the children who are losing the freedom to leave home without fear of harm. There is no better time than now…"
"I'm not sure government intervention is best…"
"Because God helps those who help themselves? If ever that were true, you must know that in this country we have systematically taken away people's ability to create change for themselves. Besides, the government steps in when there is a storm or a fire. This firestorm has been raging for centuries, Olivia, and we need help putting it out…"
Deep in thought, Olivia had just reached the stairs when a voice called out,
"Hey, Cinderella."
She turned with a smile to see Fitz walking up to her with her shoes in his hands.
"Your regular shoe service."
"This is getting to be a habit," Olivia chuckled, resting her hands on his shoulders as he sat on the bottom step and helped her into her shoes.
"I'm not complaining," Fitz murmured, tugging her down to sit beside him. "Who were you talking to on the phone? The conversation looked serious."
"Nancy Drake." At Fitz's confused look, she added, "Pastor Drake's wife."
"You're still in touch with her? How's Anna?"
"Doing well. Nancy's taken them under her wing. She has a big heart like someone else I know," Olivia murmured, sliding her arms around his waist.
He kissed her mouth, then pressed his lips to her forehead.. "So what did Nancy Drake want? Did she find another body?"
A laugh gusted out of Olivia. "That's what I said but she didn't see the humour."
Fitz waited, but when Olivia kept smiling he urged softly, "Livvie…?"
Olivia sighed. "She wants me to speak my truth. The truth that we're still seen as nothing more than the Three Fifths Compromise written in Article 1 of the Constitution. The truth that being born a minority doesn't guarantee citizen access to the Fourth and Fourteenth amendments. The truth that the Thirteenth might as well be invisible."
Fitz stared at her, a frown gathering on his brow. "Olivia…"
She leaned in, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "Nancy's right, Fitz. Money is being taken away from the many to be given to the few. Poverty is a crime and protests are banned. Since we've made it impossible for people to help themselves we need to step up. It's what you would do if there was a natural disaster like Hurricane Katrina or Sandy. "
Fitz let his gaze wander over Olivia face and he released a heavy sigh. 'You know there are days that I wish you didn't have the urge to fix things."
She snuffled a laugh. "Then we're even, because there are days I wish you weren't President."
He gave a wry smile. "So what are you going to do?"
"I haven't decided." She looked at his mouth so temptingly near.
"You need thinking time," he whispered.
"Oh, do I now?"
"In the bath," he added to her laughter. "Can you delay it by an hour because I left Zeke waiting, to come find you?"
"I can think on my own," she teased.
"Yeah but two heads are better than one."
Then as he helped her up off the stairs, Fitz held onto Olivia's hands tugging her forward to rest against him. "You never did tell me what you did to the Business Council to have them running scared."
"My guys found the access codes to their secret bank accounts in Europe and the Caribbean. Accounts that were being used to bribe, threaten and at times topple legislators in foreign countries opposed to Corporate America in their backyard. But it wasn't being found out, that got them worried."
"It was losing all that money."
"Yep. Those accounts were closed the minute those guys walked out of here, but we know where the money went."
"Thinking of passing those details onto the IRS?"
She stared at him solemnly.
"Livvie…"
"I need a few rabbits up my sleeve, baby."
When Olivia reached the top of the stairs, she saw Karen walking along the corridor, peering through open doorways.
"K?"
Karen's slightly worried face lit up with a smile as she came running towards Olivia and hugged her.
"Guess what, Mom?"
"The man in the moon is not made of green cheese?"
Karen gurgled a laugh. "No silly Mommy, I spoke about Ruby Bridges in class. Now the other kids want to do a project about kids like Ruby, Malala Yousafzai and Anne Frank. We're going to call it 'Old Enough to Change the World'."
"Wow." Olivia murmured, stroking a hand over Karen's flyaway hair.
"I know right." Karen said happily. "I didn't know a little thing like that could make a difference."
Olivia looked down at Karen, and cupped her face. "You know what? You've given me an idea."
"I have?"
Olivia nodded. "I'll tell you at dinner. Right now I have to get ready to run a bath."
Weeks later, an Interfaith Update on Compass (Australian Broadcasting Corporation)…
… Faraway County has resurrected the American civil rights movement made famous by Reverend Dr Martin Luther King Jr in the Sixties. The incident involving a police officer and an unarmed teenager, has created a people's movement that is spreading across the world …
Back in America, church groups are adding their voices to the chorus for justice by promoting a rather unusual campaign. Called 'Protect Our Children', the campaign has mothers and fathers revealing their personal tragedies with the slogan, 'I could not save my child, help us save yours'. These parents say they are spreading the word about a silent epidemic – the trauma and death their kids have suffered after random contact with police….
Parents of black, white, Hispanic, Asian, able and disabled victims are rallying behind the campaign, funded by private donations. It was launched at last Sunday's service in a Washington DC church, with First Lady, Olivia Pope and First Daughter Karen Grant, in the congregation… "
Days later…
Cyrus was turning off the lights in his office when his cell phone rang.
"Howdy, pardner."
"I was just leaving."
"Well now, ain't that the luck of the devil? I was just callin' to see if you had any plans for tonight?"
"Yes."
"What's got you so riled up?" Hollis asked cheerfully. "Wouldn't be the bright shining light that is Olivia P Gant now, would it?"
"No."
"Sounds like you need to take a load off, bud. Why don't you tell me all about over a beer? It's been a month of Sundays since we've chewed the fat. Not since Fitzy boy battened down the hatches against the Olivia backlash. Even Pennsylvania Avenue is a no-go zone."
"Are you calling to complain about increased security?"
"Now why would I speak to the poodle instead of its owner about the backyard fence?"
"Goodnight, Hollis."
"Hold your horses! That was a joke, Cy. You need to loosen up. That beer I mentioned would be mighty helpful in that direction. It might be the last cold one you'll get before Fitzy Boy tanks your career."
"I don't drink beer."
An hour later, Cyrus glanced out at the diner window where two SUVs were parked. The accompanying security for Hollis and Secret Service for Cyrus stood facing each other, legs akimbo and hands clasped in front, between the vehicles.
"Is there a reason you got me here at this ungodly hour to drink dishwater that passes for coffee." Cyrus eyed his coffee cup which bore the faint lipstick stain of the last drinker.
"Now, Cyrus, don't let the smell of grease and the ketchup stains on the table fool you. This joint serves the best Getty's burgers in town."
"It's two in the morning."
"What's that got to do with price of bacon?"
Cyrus stared bug-eyed at Hollis then sat back. "Why are we here?"
"You know Fitzy Boy is turning out to be a real Teflon kid. You seen the polls? People like the big ticket items the man keeps pulling out of his butt: gun control, minimum wage, homeless veterans! They should be blowing up in his face but like a gotdamn Midas, Fitzgerald Grant is turning those grade-A turds into nuggets of gold. That's giving me heartburn, Cyrus."
"I would have put it down to greasy burgers myself."
"Hell, I get heartburn drinking carrot juice! Fitzgerald is leading in the polls! The ones the Murdoch press ain't tellin' people about. And he's doing it as an Independent. Do you know what that means – we've got a loose cannon making loose canonship look great! That ain't good for democracy! We need Presidents who can be kept under control by their parties! We don't need Presidents who get their problems fixed by their itty bitty wives. Hell, they even make charitable donations look like a public service instead of a tax deduction!"
"The money for Protect Our Children came from Olivia's personal account because she didn't want Fitz to have to explain her public spending at a Presidential debate. Olivia isn't another Imelda Marcos."
"No she's a gotdamn Eva Peron throwing good money after bad. We can't protect our children, we need protection from them!" Hollis paused as the waitress ambled by to top up his coffee. Then he leaned across the table again. "Fitzy Boy is linin' up to kick a fresh turd on a hot day with this Congressional Hearing on police and judicial misconduct. We know minorities get the butt-end of the stick – that's what they're there for. You don't need no Congressional Hearing to confirm what we already know!"
Hollis reached for his coffee as Cyrus glanced out the diner window. "It's getting late. I've got an early start this morning."
Hollis put his cup down slowly and smiled. "Ah, I see the preview wasn't entertainin' enough. So let me be cut to the chase. You think you're riding ahead of the herd with Fitzgerald hitting a polling high? Have you thought about what your life would be like if he wins? You're already a gofer. You've been wiping his ass and blowin' his nose since he was a Republican-in-training, but now he's got Olivia. You know what's worse than a loose cannon, it's a lovestruck loose cannon and the man ain't even ashamed to admit it. I hear he chucked the National Security Council out for some nookey with the wife. Now I ain't blaming the man, twenty years married to the ice queen and I'd be testing my gonads every second I got, but we can't have the man ruinin' the economy! No one gets rich making daisy chains and tie-dying T-shirts with peace signs, unless they're selling weed on the side."
Cyrus looked bored. "Your profiteering is none of my business."
Hollis chortled. "My profiteering as you call it is keeping your retirement fund padded with the finest cotton. How's baby Ella going to go to college if God-Daddy Fitz nukes your investment portfolio which is knee-deep in military contractors?"
As Cyrus scowled, Hollis picked up his cup again and took a leisurely sip. "Do you know there are towns in the great US of A that don't have a SWAT team in their police department? Faraway County was helping the fence straddlers re-think their Woodstock attitude and go Waco. But now with Olivia and Fitzgerald cheerleading public stupidity, the guys who've got the equipment want to give it back. That's making a lot of fine folk mighty unhappy, Cy. No one likes having to tighten their belts because Hippies have taken over the White House."
Hollis reached for an onion ring fresh from the basket that was placed at his elbow, popped it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "You know what we need to turn this around. We need a war."
Cyrus knocked over his coffee. Then there was a general ruckus cleaning it up before it dropped onto their clothes.
"What? Are you insane?" Cyrus looked around.
"Don't worry that old bird can't hear worth a damn; she refuses to turn on her hearing aide."
Cyrus leaned forward and muttered, "A war?"
"Hell, yes. Nothing like a war to bring out the bulls. The money market bull-run will put the Spanish to shame. And as a bonus, no president has been elected for initiating a war, not unless they are a gotdamn Republican or in Australia."
"And how are we proposing to do that. It's not like we can create a world crisis on a whim."
"Dubya went to war accusing Saddam of hiding Weapons of Mass Destruction when there weren't none."
"He had 9/11 to trigger public support," Cyrus hissed, red in the face.
Hollis released a gusty sigh. "Gotdamn pity we don't have time to train another crazy loon and set him loose on the world. Unless you've got a tame terrorist group you can call on in an emergency?"
"We're not going to get the CIA involved."
"I said 'tame', Cy, not a bunch of gotdamn renegades. Guess we'll have to improvise."
Cyrus looked at Hollis warily. "What did you have in mind?"
Hollis smiled. "It's time to Wag the Dog, Cy."
A/N: Hello, thank YOU ALL for all the support as well as discouragement. I do adore writing for this fandom but the guest was right about the last chapter, in the sense I did choose a clumsy plot device to get my point across. But being a shoot first-ask questions later kind of person I only realised that several days later, after putting my ruffled ego aside.
Having said that, and with ego firmly back on board, I've decided against making sacred cows of political processes and procedures, mostly because I'm ignorant of them and Google search isn't as forthcoming as it used to be. Not sure if that's ASIO or NSA's fault but I'm going to blame both. (Not my inane keyword searches of 'how long does it take to organise a Congressional Hearing', 'is overnight too soon'? 'Can we pretend we're dealing with Mayflies?')
BTW, I did make a passing reference to Zeke's partner in the media during the Indian state visit (Chapter 35 in the Al Jazeera post). James and Cyrus were 'outed' during Sally's 21-day siege.
Now for this chapter, the 1033 Program is real. I saw it mentioned in Ferguson posts on Tumblr, and decided to make a whole chapter of it. Actually most of the info is thanks to the ACLU and Nick O'Malley of the Sydney Morning Herald who made a nice easy list:
America's new arms race
In 1990 the Pentagon sent $1 million in military equipment to police.
In 2013 the Pentagon sent $450 million in military equipment to police.
Since the 1033 program began the Pentagon has sent more than $4.3 billion in military equipment to police.
One-third of all military equipment sent to police is new, raising questions about Pentagon waste.
Fargo, North Dakota, spent $8 million on military equipment for police, though the area averages only two murders a year since 2005.
More than 60 per cent of SWAT raids investigated by the ACLU involved a search for drugs.
68 per cent of SWAT raids against minorities were conducted in a search for drugs, only 38 per cent of such raids against whites were in search for drugs.
In 1984 about 26 per cent of U.S. towns with a population between 25,000-50,000 had a SWAT team.
By 2005 about 80 per cent of US towns with a population between 25,000-50,000 had a SWAT team.
Almost 90 per cent of larger towns now have a SWAT team.
At least 54 per cent of all botched SWAT raids are conducted against ethnic minorities.
In 2011 and 2012 nearly 80 per cent of all SWAT raids were conducted under a search warrant, meaning the targets were only suspects, not active shooters or hostage-takers.
There are roughly 137 SWAT searches every day in the U.S., or about 50,000 a year, according to Professor Pete Kraska of Eastern Kentucky University's School of Justice Studies.
28 per cent of all arrests in the US involve an African-American.
35 per cent of all arrests that result in the death of the suspect involve an African-American.
Source: various ACLU reports - How the US police in Ferguson became a militarised unit equipped for war (X)
The church group campaign was inspired by Australian churches rallying against the current Australian government's anti-refugee stance. Actually the churches have been vocally and pictorially anti-government as a whole! One even going as far as to have a street mural of Abbott as the devil outside its gates. Oh and Compass is an actual program, which I have misappropriated with other facts for this story.
Now dear readers, I have to say the next chapter will be posted sometime in November because it's that time of year again when I start questioning my life choices – i.e. having to study for final exams in subjects I barely understand for a career I'm trying to avoid.
Until then, stay happy and curse Olake.
Here are my other references for anyone else who might find them useful:
US police departments are increasingly militarised, finds report (X)
How the US police in Ferguson became a militarised unit equipped for war (X)
Michael Brown shooting: US to review militarisation of police in aftermath of Ferguson riots (X)
Ferguson police: a stark illustration of newly militarised US law enforcement (X) Now Pentagon Militarizing CAMPUS Police – Armored Vehicles, Dozens of Assault Rifles (X) Missouri politicians welcome Obama review of militarised police (X) Why America's police forces look like invading armies (X) Trends in U.S. Military Spending (X) Obama Urged to End Military Spending Caps to Fight ISIS (X) America's staggering defense budget, in charts (X) 'Take back our tanks': Police can't get rid of military gear in Ferguson aftermath (X)
/usa/192040-police-return-excess-equipment-pentagon/ (X)
Ferguson aftermath: California city tells cops to get rid of armored vehicle (X) Police Want to Get Rid of Their Pentagon-Issued Combat Gear. Here's Why They Can't. (X)
Arms sales: who are the world's 100 top arms producers? (X)
The best influence money can buy - the 10 Worst Corporate Lobbyists (X)
Military budget of the United States (X)
Military spending: how much does the military cost each country, listed (X)
The New Mandate on Defense (X)
How the Defense Lobby Became Irrelevant (X)
Military firms likely to benefit from airstrikes in Iraq, Syria (X)
Wag the Dog
Congressional Hearings and Procedures (X)
Congressional Intelligence Committees Should Let Public See Their Work (X)
"How to Survive a Congressional Investigation" (X)
Federal law enforcement in the United States (X)
Law enforcement in the United States (X)
More Colorful Texas Sayings… (X)
White House Schedule (X)
Three-Fifths Compromise (X)