Disclaimer: Inspired by Season 1 Scandal, Vermont and the Olitz actors
NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers
Fitz was propped up on the pillows, rubbing Olivia's back as she lay snug in his arms. She'd had a restless night, and he was hoping she'd get a few minutes of sleep before another hectic day.
"Fitz…"
"Ssh…" he whispered, "Go to sleep." He feathered kisses over hr smiling, upturned face until her eyes fluttered closed.
Then he bit back a groan when she reached for his hand and brought it round to the front of her belly, so he could feel the baby move
"We need to send you and Bub on a yoga retreat," he murmured. "A bit of meditation might help both of you get some sleep."
Olivia smiled. "I've been thinking."
Fitz sighed, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I need you to stop thinking. One minute. No thinking. That's all I ask." He brushed a kiss across her skin, once twice, then smiled when she slid her arms around him, and burrowed her face into his bare chest, lapsing into silence.
Just when he began to think Olivia had dozed off, she pushed back. "Okay, minute's up," she said, nodding towards the digital clock on the night table.
"Livvie…" He started to complain but broke off when she slid her arms around his neck and whispered, "I've been thinking we should go to Vermont. We never did have that weekend we promised ourselves."
"You were thinking of Vermont?"
"Does that meet with your executive approval?"
Grinning, he kissed her cheeky smile, then smushed his face against hers, tightening his arms around her. "One minute more, and then we start packing."
Olivia chuckled. "We can't pack. Not until we tell Tom, and Zeke, and—" The rest of her list disappeared in his kiss.
Jerry's Vermont Video Diaries…
Message 1: "Here we are back the old people's retirement village, Pete" … [Olivia yells in the background 'I heard that Jerry!' 'Sorry, Mom!" Jerry grins into the camera]… "So here we are home sweet home. There's Mom, carrying Teddy so he doesn't get in the way of Marta who's getting his room ready. And Karen carrying Poppy, checking for mice and roaches. There's Rowan. Dad and the Secret Service guys dragging in the luggage that Mom and Felicia got the White House to pack in case we were stuck here for the rest of our lives"… [Fitz calls out, "Quit playing with that camera and bring those boxes in." Camera shuts off on Jerry's indistinct mutter]…
Message 2: "Remember, the last time we here, Mom's crew made a rad Thanksgiving dinner? Today we have Mom cooking and Dad giving instructions" … [The camera pans to Olivia at the chopping board looking down at a carrot. Fitz is peering through his reading glasses at the book he's holding at arm's length. 'It says julienne, Liv' – 'What's that?' – 'Just chop it '. Olivia whacks the carrot with a cleaver and a chunk shoots off the board, promptly hitting an agent taking a bottled water out of the fridge. The video goes out of focus at the sound of a yell…Break in recording…Then Jerry's face again with pizza in hand]… "After Mom gave one of the guys a concussion with that carrot, the Secret Service thought it would be safer to get pizza. They brought it back by chopper. It's a tough life out here, Pete, feel sorry for me, man…" [Jerry took a huge bite out of his pizza and munched away with sauce all over his grinning mouth]…
Meanwhile on Capitol Hill, Congressional Hearing schedule
Hearing: Examining EPA's Management of the Renewable Fuel Standard Program – on schedule
Hearing: Russian Arms Control Cheating and the Administrations Responses – on schedule
Hearing: Examining FDA's Role in the Regulation of Genetically Modified Food Ingredients – on schedule
Hearing: Examining the impacts of Community policing and judicial outcomes in police prosecutions - postponed
On the steps of the Faraway County courthouse…
"Justice is blind! Justice is deaf! Justice is mute! Lushan was a distraction from the real problems in this country! The President bombs a medicine factory because they're making chemical weapons but what's he done to stop the guns and tanks rolling into our neighbourhoods? What's he done to get justice for our kids murdered by cops? There is real terrorism in this country and I can tell you that you don't need to cross the Atlantic to find it!"
On the street, standing in front of the memorial for the murmured teenager
"A boy was killed on these streets. A black boy was killed by a white cop. You ask yourself this – if the tables were turned; if a white boy had been killed by a black cop; do you think white America would sit on its ass, waiting for the next child to be murdered by another black cop? Hell no, they would not! We're talking about folks who burn down the town when their football team loses or when they get smashed at a pumpkin festival!"
In front of the Sheriff's Office
"This was a lynching by the white hoods in police uniform. The President said we'd get a hearing – a hearing about police brutality and judicial misconduct. So far all I'm hearing is silence. Silence from the White House. Silence from Congress. Silence from the Public Prosecutor. No one has arrested the murderer who shot a young man on a residential street, in broad daylight and left his body there for the world to see. Does anyone care? No! NO! The President is having a family vacation in Vermont, and here is a mother grieving for her son; a mother whose son will never, ever come home!"
In front of St John's Episcopal Church, Washington DC…
A call to action had gone out from the organisers of the 'Protect Our Children' campaign. A call that was heard by church-going women all across the country. They arrived on buses, trains, and planes. Some arrived alone. Others in groups. There were mothers pushing prams, daughters pushing mothers in wheelchairs. They carried signs; they carried portraits of unarmed children killed by cops; they carried backpacks with rolled up tents. They came in jeans and hoodies, funeral black and their Sunday best.
As the numbers swelled. The DC chief of police called the Mayor. The Mayor called the Vice President. They all stood in their respective offices staring out the window, trying to decide how best to handle a situation that had the potential to get out of control, or at the very least be a public relations nightmare on the threshold of a federal election.
While city and federal officials considered the dilemma, in front of the church at the allotted time, the women moved as one, towards the White House, singing 'We Shall, We Shall Not Be Moved'
Jerry's video diaries continued:
Message 3: "Dad had a light bulb moment after breakfast – [sotto voce] Felicia and Rowan made waffles, there were no casualties. [return to normal tone] Dad wanted to trek in the wilderness." … [From the background, Fitz is heard saying, 'Hardly wilderness, Jer. This is an orchard' and Jerry responding, 'Dad. This is a dead zone']… "So, yeah, Pete, here we are in the wilderness. Not a lot to see – trees, more trees, a mountain, geese flying to Canada – escaping the boredom. Another tree, hey are those peaches?" … [Rowan's dry voice in the background. 'Yes, that's where they actually grow, not the supermarket shelf or the White House pantry'. Camera focus on Jerry's face. 'Har-de-har-har']…"
Message 4: "There's Mom and Dad dozing on the picnic blanket. Kay and Felicia are taking the dogs for a walk. There's Rowan walking with Teddy on the grass. The little dude is getting real good at wandering off on his own, Good thing Rowan is there to curb his enthusiasm. Here's a ladybug on a daisy. Here's it is flying away. Hey, it's landed on Mom, guess Mom's green dress kinda looks like grass to the ladybug. May not even be a ladybug. Maybe it's a manbug. How do you figure out gender on a bug?" … [Break in recording. Then Jerry's face appears over a lifejacket with the lake and mountain in the background.] … "Dad, the Presidential Overlord, ordered me to go fishing with him.." … [Fitz in the background. 'Your chatter was disturbing Mom'. The agent next to Fitz added with a grin, 'Now his chatter is just disturbing the fish'. Conversation interrupted by ringing phone]… "Hey, Dad, how come you have phone reception and I don't?"
Message 5: 'Gotta go home, Pete. Zeke called Dad saying a church choir was blocking the streets around the White House. Dad wanted Zeke to sort it out, but Zeke was like, 'No way, man, those sisters, mommas and nannas will take me out with a look'. Least, Dad told Mom that's what Zeke said, when Dad got back from his fishing trip where he caught no fish. For a second there, Pete, I thought we'd be having pizza again as Mom and Dad suck at making dinner. Here's me signing off. I need to figure out who dad's phone provider is. He said it's the NSA because they get to listen in on his calls…"
Zeke was waiting on the South Lawn when Marine One landed.
"Can you hear them sing?" he said, when Fitz stepped onto the helipad.
Across the lawn the faint sound of 'We shall, we shall not be moved' reached them.
"They need to move because the Mayor has been on my case all day."
"We should speak to them," Olivia as Fitz reached for her, helping her down the steps.
"Now?" Fitz frowned, with hands on her waist.
"Now," Olivia and Zeke said in chorus.
"Okay, Zeke and I will go. I want you to wait here."
Olivia poked her tongue out, earning herself a hard kiss and a firm directive to 'stay calm and safe'.
As Fitz and Zeke walked towards the crowd, within a circle of Secret Service agents, the women fell silent. Fitz paused at the sight of a familiar face, beyond the cordon of uniformed police.
"Mrs Drake?"
"Mr President."
"It's been a long time," Fitz smiled at her.
"Since the Pastor's funeral," Nancy agreed. "Many a river has flowed under the bridge since then."
"I'm glad to see you, Mrs Drake, although the circumstances are… disconcerting."
"A child was shot in the streets, Mr President. Disconcerting our legislators is the least we can do to bring to your attention the pain we feel as a community."
"I hear you, Nancy. Right now I'm trying to find out how big of a problem it is that we need to fix."
"Is that what you were doing in Vermont?" A voice yelled from the back. "Did you find the cure for cancer and world hunger too?"
There was a ripple of laughter.
"I get where you're coming from," Fitz said in conciliatory tone.
"No you don't!" cried a woman, pushing her way through to the front. "The only way you could understand if your son over there," Fitz turned in surprise, then felt exasperation take over at the sight of Jerry and his camera, before he returned his attention once again to the speaker. "If your son couldn't walk down the street without fearing for his life. You can only know how we feel if you had to pray that your child would get home safe from school or from the store; or that he'll be safe in a playground or she'll be safe sleeping on the couch. We don't want to live like this – afraid for our children, our men or our women, but we have no choice!"
Nancy waited for the words to sink in, before adding, "You said it yourself, Mr President – the issue of race carries a lot of pain in this country. We need that pain, those inconvenient truths to surface. We need to stop the poison of racial hatred spreading to future generations."
Zeke stepped forward, "You think that's not what we want too? We want justice, we want to rebuild trust, and we want kids to feel safe. We want exactly what you want. But camping out here isn't going to achieve any of that."
"As we have been singing, Mr Vice President, we shall not be moved. Arrest us. Arrest us all. We have come prepared. Being deprived of our freedom is a small price to pay for the greater crime of depriving our children of their lives."
"That greater crime will not be solved by the loss of your freedom."
The woman to Nancy's left, shook her head. "You think we have freedom right now? We never had freedom. Our freedom to life and liberty is in the hands of any and every white person in this country – wearing a hood, a uniform, or a suit. They can shoot us, hang us, bludgeon us, tie us to a truck and drag us down a street. They can murder us any way they like and we can do nothing but protest, waiting for the day of justice that never comes. I can tell you that we – as mothers, as grandmothers, and as children who marched with our parents to realise Dr King's Dream – we want that day of justice, and we want it now."
Waiting for Justice– End Racism now!
Youtube video uploaded by Rebel IV. 25 hits in 2 hours. Comments (5)
Sadman1: 'Hey, Rebel IV, are you the President's son?'
TwistnTurn: 'Yeah, I saw the President's kid filming protestors yesterday.'
CrazyKitten: 'Hey, Rebel IV, can I get your autograph?'
Rebel IV: 'Has anyone watched the video?'
Sadman1: 'Is Beyonce in it?'
Rebel IV – Take 2: Video upload with intro from Fitzgerald 'Jerry' Grant IV
'Hi there, my name's Jerry Grant. As you've probably seen on the news, we have protestors standing outside the White House. What you probably don't know, because the media isn't talking about that part, is that these women want justice for the kids who being killed on our streets – that's black kids killed by white cops. That's not happening right now. Like in Faraway County, no cops have been arrested. I know because I checked with the Attorney General when he was on his way to see Dad this afternoon.
'But don't take my word for it, listen to what these women have to say. It's the only way you're going to hear their side of the story."
Breaking News
A recent video uploaded by the President's son Fitzgerald Grant IV, on a popular social media site garnered 1 billion views in ten minutes and is now making the rounds across the globe with kids from as far away as Iceland and Paraguay asking what they can do to help.
Celebrities have sent food trucks to feed the protestors; charities are providing tents and blankets, while churches have opened their doors for the use of toilets and showers.
"He's grounded."
"He's not grounded."
"I'm going to ground him." Fitz said moving towards the door, but Olivia wouldn't budge. He gave a wry grimace. "Only a few weeks into the job and you're ready to mutiny?"
"I'm not doing this as your Chief of Staff. I'm doing this even as your wife or the mother to your children – all your children." Olivia folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin. "I'm doing this because I stand with Nancy Drake and all those other women out there, maybe not in body but in spirit. I'm claiming my heritage."
Fitz looked at her oddly. "You have never tried to hide the fact that you were black."
"I didn't have to – it's not something I can hide, but I have lived a life of relative privilege, thanks to my father. I went to white elite schools, I have a white name, I wear clothes in neutral colours, I straighten my hair, and I fix white problems. I am safe. Not just to be around white people but I am safe enough to exist. I am not a walking target, even less so after you increased security around me"
Fitz stood silent, watching Olivia begin to pace back and forth, then he sat on the arm rest of the couch waiting for her to continue.
"You can see my blackness, be aware of what I face but not understand what it means to live in a society that has institutionalised racism. I worry about the world our children live in. I worry that our white children will see that it's okay to destroy anything that threatens their safety; anything and everything they fear will harm them regardless of the facts. But our black child must accept injustice as a way of life, within a world order established by white supremacy; to know they must live with this hatred and may die because of it."
"You mean our white children will learn from me that it's okay to destroy anything like a factory in Africa that was making medicine instead of chemical weapons?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
"Fitz, you can't avoid the significance of what I'm telling you because of a mistake you had help making. I'm talking about how we spend billions fighting terror groups like Al Qaeda, and bogus groups like the Warriors of Mass Destruction, but we turn a blind eye to what the KKK is doing."
"They were outlawed in 1871."
"When they were killing white Republicans as well as blacks in the South. But not since they re-emerged with a focus on people of colour since the 1920s. We haven't had any real action against domestic terrorists since President Ulysses S. Grant," she paused for further emphasis. "Passed the Enforcements Acts of 1870 and 1871 which allowed the military to arrest Klansmen, and he suspended habeas corpus in nine South Carolina counties so the legality of those arrests could not be reviewed by a judge in a court of law."
"Ulysses S Grant also passed the Amnesty Act which restored the political rights of ex-confederate soldiers; and ex-confederate soldiers formed hate groups, including the KKK." Fitz paused, looking at Olivia intently as he finished, "On a more relevant point, that Grant wasn't married to Olivia Pope. Anything I do, will jeapordise your safety."
Olivia gave him a soft smile, but didn't bridge the distance between them as she said huskily, "We know members of white supremacy hate groups are in our police forces. Where else could they be – in our military, judiciary, schools, hospitals, even our religious institutions?"
"Olivia, we know of only two known cases in Fruitland Park, Florida of cops with KKK affiliations. One was sacked, the other resigned."
"Fitz, you saw the crowd that turned up at the White House last year. You saw the ammunition they carried. Where do they work? If they are unemployed, are they on government assistance programmes that support their hate habits? Do their organisations get support from tax-deductible donations? You're on record as saying we need to find out the extent of what we're dealing with; we need to have a Truth and Reconciliation Commission."
Fitz looked taken aback. "Like in South Africa?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Why?"
"The South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission went for 7 years. We don't have that kind of time. Anything we start now will be get killed and buried by either Sally or Reston. A botched operation would leave this worse than it is."
She looked at him sadly. "Even as the man who loves me, you cannot say what this is – this is racism, Fitz. If I was to be brutalised for any other reason than my race – there would be outrage. If I was raped, robbed, assaulted, or killed as a white woman; there would be arrests, prosecutions, Hollywood campaigns, legislative change. But if I, as a victim, am black – all acts of violence become diminished, less heinous."
Fitz was on his feet and in her space before Olivia had finished the last sentence. Gathering her unresisting figure in his arms, he pressed his lips to her forehead, and muttered, "I know that I can't comprehend the enormity of what you're saying. I know that nothing I say will be a salve for what's happened, but I want you to know that there's not a thing I would change about you. Not one thing."
She turned slightly, so her smile touched his mouth. "How about the snoring?"
There was a pause, before he gusted a laugh.
"Or my carrot chopping skills? Or—"
He kissed her again. "Not. One. Thing."
Olivia moaned softly as his kisses turned sensuous. "Fitz…"
"Mmhm?"
"This isn't about me." Olivia concentrated on her words, ignoring the havoc he was wreaking on her senses. "This is about the kids who are getting killed on the streets."
"Give me time, I'll figure this out."
"We don't have time, baby." She closed her eyes as his mouth travelled down her cheek, to her throat. "Fitz… I want you to listen to something I came across the other day… It's a speech by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, explaining why South Africa chose to set up a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to heal that country after Apartheid."
He drew back to give her a look. "I'm trying to seduce you and you're thinking of Archbishop Tutu?"
Olivia chuckled, kissing his pouty mouth. "I'm hanging on by a thread. I'm so hot for you right now, I could go up in flames—"
He nipped at her lips, then when she looked at him wide-eyed, her face flushing with arousal, he said innocently, "So what did Tutu say?"
She met his gaze. "Meanie."
"Returning the favour." He grinned, then sighed when she broke away to get her phone off the coffee table.
"How long is this speech?"
"Not long…maybe a bit long."
Fitz sighed again, sitting down on the couch and tugging Olivia down beside him. He watched her scrolling through a list of searched options. He brushed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, hoping to distract her but to his disappointment all he got was a quick peck on his mouth, before Olivia told him that Archbishop Tutu's speech had been given at the University of Toronto in 2000. Then she began reading the text:
If you asked even the most sober students of South African affairs what they thought was going to happen to South Africa [after the end of the Apartheid regime]… almost universally they predicted that the most ghastly catastrophe would befall us; that as sure as anything, we would be devastated by a comprehensive bloodbath.
It did not happen. Instead, the world watched with amazement, indeed awe, at the long lines of South Africans of all races, snaking their way to their polling booths on April 27, 1994. And they thrilled as they witnessed Nelson Mandela being inaugurated as the first democratically elected president of South Africa on May 10, 1994. Nearly everyone described what they were witnessing - a virtually bloodless, reasonably peaceful transition from injustice and oppression to freedom and democracy - as a miracle.
When the disaster did not overtake us, there were those who said, "Wait until a black-led government takes over. Then these blacks who have suffered so grievously in the past will engage in the most fearful orgy of revenge and retribution against the whites."
Well, that prediction too was not fulfilled. Instead the world saw something quite unprecedented. They saw the process of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, when perpetrators of some of the most gruesome atrocities were given amnesty in exchange for a full disclosure of the facts of the offence. Instead of revenge and retribution, this new nation chose to tread the difficult path of confession, forgiveness, and reconciliation.
…We have been richly blessed to have had at such a critical time in our history a Nelson Mandela. He was imprisoned for 27 years; most expected that when he emerged, he would be riddled with a lust for retribution. But the world has been amazed; instead of spewing calls for revenge, he urged his own people to work for reconciliation - and invited his former jailer to attend his presidential inauguration as a VIP guest.
Our country did not go the way of Nuremberg, to bring the perpetrators of such crimes to trial. Our country could not afford the exorbitant cost of trials, even if we could have held them and had the evidence to satisfy a court of law.
Our country rejected the other extreme of a blanket amnesty, as happened in General Augusto Pinochet's Chile. It victimized the victims a second time around and was really trying to let bygones be bygones, when in fact they never become bygones. Certainly, Gen. Pinochet now knows you can't act with reckless impunity and hope to get away with it forever. This is a moral universe.
Our country chose a middle way of individual amnesty for truth. Some would say, what about justice? And we say retributive justice is not the only kind of justice. There is also restorative justice, because we believe in Ubuntu - the essence of being human, that idea that we are all caught up in a delicate network of interdependence. We say, "A person is a person through other persons." I need you in order to be me and you need me in order to be you.
Fitz cleared his throat. "Ubuntu, huh?"
Olivia nodded, her hair rubbing his cheek. "Ubuntu."
Then she drew back to look at him. "Do you see now? We need to have the truth before we can reconcile our differences. Just like people who go to counselling and talk about all the bad things that have happened to them, we need to know what we are dealing with. We need a group counselling session for the entire country, and as a nation we need to know what we're dealing with."
Later that night, Fitz found himself staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. He needed a drink of water, but he didn't want to move with Olivia snug at his side.
Then as if she'd read his mind in her sleep, she mumbled, 'hot' and shifted away.
Fitz peered closely, trying to see if she was awake but when her breathing evened, he eased carefully out of bed and tiptoed to the closet, donning a pair of pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, before heading out of the bedroom suite towards the kitchen.
He found Rowan reading at the kitchen table, with a mug and a bowl of nuts in front of him.
"You're up late." Rowan peered over his reading glasses at Fitz.
"I could say the same about you." Fitz said, getting a glass of water and filling it up at the tap.
"I wanted to finish this book and Felicia can't sleep with the reading light on." Rowan held up the book so Fitz could read the title 'From Civil Rights to Human Rights'. "It's a biography on Dr Martin Luther King Jr, written by a white man. But then so much of our history is written by white men."
"You could write a book yourself."
Rowan smirked. "If you wrote the foreword, I wouldn't have any trouble finding a publisher."
Fitz grabbed a handful of nuts, crunched and swallowed, then after a moment said, "Olivia wants to hold a Truth and Reconciliation Commission."
Rowan raised a brow. "That's ambitious, even for my daughter who always sees the bigger picture. But if she is looking at the South African model for inspiration, I have to say that although the hatred has similarities, the circumstances are not the same. In South Africa, Afrikaner police death squads disappeared people; the families of the missing didn't know what had happened to their loved ones. Over here, the victims of racism have been displayed for all to see – hung on trees, burnt on wood piles, thrown in a ditch, left bullet-riddled on the street. The purpose was not only to get rid of black lives but to teach the rest of us what could happen if we didn't behave." Seeing Fitz shift in his seat, Rowan demanded, "Does this make you uncomfortable, Fitzgerald?"
Fitz released a long breath. "It doesn't matter if I am. I will have to get used to it, with Olivia intent on exposing the truth."
"Oh there is much more to the truth than what I have said, which is why I would not support a reconciliation based on blanket pardons for the criminals who violated my people and our rights. South Africans had gained black majority rule and the Africans wanted to be magnanimous towards their white oppressors, who were a minority. In the United States, the whites have systematically terrorised people of colour in the process of creating this country using force and deception. It is not for us to forgive a majority who continue to retain a stronghold on power and prosperity at our expense. It is for the majority to show they are serious about inclusion, and I don't mean by marrying people of colour or appropriating our culture."
Fitz paused in the act of grabbing another handful from the bowl. "I wasn't making a statement when I married Olivia." He said, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest.
"That's not true. You were making the statement that any man, even a President, has the right to marry the woman he loves."
Fitz gave a rueful smile. "Yes, I was making that statement."
"Now you are required to make another statement, at the urging of my daughter and your wife, in exposing the divisions of hatred that have been nurtured at the highest levels of governance. The Southern Democrats supported the KKK from inception. Since then at least five Presidents, both Democrat and Republican have been linked to that group."
"But a Republican President did quash them once."
"Only for a Democrat, Woodrow Wilson, to revive them once again by promoting that travesty, A Birth of a Nation. Now that the rednecks have taken over the Republican Party, it appears both major parties have abandoned any intention of finding solutions to a problem that has gone on for far too long. As an Independent, you won't be shackled by ideology – either past or present. You can be guided by your humanity."
Rowan paused to watch Fitz making a pattern on the table with nuts from the bowl, then continued in a firmer tone, "The Southern Poverty Law Centre has done its best to gut white supremacy groups through civil lawsuits, but we need government intervention. We know that hatred is being perpetuated with pride by law enforcement officers. We need those truths exposed and documented."
"Like the Canadian Indian Residential School Truth and Reconciliation Commission?" Fitz didn't look up from the nut pattern.
Rowan disagreed, though less sternly after he realised Fitz was listening. "I'm not suggesting a repeat of the Canadian commission. They are wading through decades-worth of documents, without hearing evidence from the perpetrators. We need to hear from the perpetrators, as much as we need to add to the victims' testimony, which has been collected as nothing more than museum exhibits."
When Fitz looked up, Rowan gave a wry smile. "President Franklin Delano Roosevelt collected over 2000 interviews from people who gave first-person accounts of the brutality of slavery. Their stories are stored in the federal Library of Congress.
"More recently, President Bill Clinton's Advisory Board on Race heard evidence over 15 months on the impact of racism. That evidence was published in the report: 'One America in the 21st Century: Forging a New Future'. We don't need another report telling us what we already know: that there has been and still is the same systematic contempt for the wrongs done to blacks that we've endured for centuries. The focus here, Fitzgerald, needs to be on justice. We need the people who keep destroying black lives to experience the same level of justice faced by a black murderer of a white victim."
This sentiment was echoed by Nancy Drake and the handful of women who met with Fitz and Olivia in the Yellow Room later that day.
"A Truth and Reconciliation Commission? You want us to forgive the murderers of our children? You want the men who have got away with killing our people for generations to get a free pass on what they've done?" said one of the women.
"White men who have lynched and tortured blacks for centuries will escape the consequences of their actions? White women who cried 'rape' and 'thief' and thought nothing of the blood on their hands will now get to rest in peace? Their slate will be wiped clean while we relive the pain of loss and brutality of injustice?" said another.
"Look, you gotta understand, where we're coming from – a white cop kills a black kid, they get a paid vacation while the law cooks up a strategy to get them off. When those murderers are free, they get paid by white-owned media networks to spread their lies. They become celebrities – celebrities for killing our kids, our men, and our sisters. This is the kind of sad, sick society we live in – when those sworn to protect and serve, can profit from murder and there's not a thing we can do about it. That ain't right. We need to turn this American Horror Story into the Dream that Dr King had for all of us," added a third.
"Why is it always white people that demand to be forgiven when they are lack the compassion to forgive themselves?" A fourth asked of no one in particular. "I remember when 120,000 Japanese Americans were forced into camps after the attack on Pearl Harbor in the mid-1940s. But they got the Civil Liberties Act of 1988 passed with an apology and a token cheque for $20,000. That ain't much for what they went through, but it's more than my Nan got for surviving slavery. How long you want us to keep waiting for white people to wake up to what they done to us? Wake up to what they're doing to us? We've waited 200 years already and we're still waiting for reparation."
"You remember the Greensboro massacre in 1979?" One of the ladies in wheelchair asked Fitz and Olivia. "I don't expect you to because you were kids, but I wasn't too young even then. The KKK and White Nazis shot up an anti-Klan protest march in Greensboro, North Carolina. Killed 5 people. The killers got off; an all-white jury acquitted them in the criminal trials. But they weren't so lucky in the civil suit – the five shooters and two policemen were found guilty, and the survivors won a $350,000 judgement, but only one victim got paid. Then they had a 2005 Greensboro Truth and Reconciliation Commission, it was privately funded so it didn't get a lot press, but I took notice when they found the Greensboro Police Department had been pre-warned about what was about to go down – they had a paid informant in the Klan. The same guy had been on the FBI payroll too. When you got the Police and the FBI standing around, waiting for people to get killed, you know the problem goes deep, and writing a cheque for chicken feed ain't going to fix it."
It was late evening when Olivia found Fitz lying on the grass in the Rose Garden.
"You didn't make it to dinner, so I made you a sandwich," she said, as he sat up. "No one was harmed in the process."
Taking the plate from her hands, Fitz set it down beside him before helping Olivia onto his lap. "I love you."
"I know." She rubbed noses with him, curling her arms around his neck.
"I love you more than you know."
"I know."
"I love you even more than I know."
Olivia lifted a hand to his face, stroking his cheek. "I know."
He smiled, turning to kiss her palm. "What if this breaks us, Livvie?"
She turned him to face her again. "It won't."
"Livvie..."
She cupped his face between both of her hands. "Whatever happens, we'll be fine."
"You don't know that."
"I do, so does my gut." She placed his hand on her stomach.
That made him smile as he rubbed her baby bump. Then he said in a low voice, "Once they start digging into my past to discredit me, I'm afraid you'll see me differently, when all my skeletons are out of the closet."
"Fitz, you don't even know what skeletons are in your closet… unless you think your family owned my family?"
Although that thought hadn't crossed his mind until then, Fitz said, "…Yes."
"So what you're telling me is that your money belongs to my family, as unpaid wages?"
He looked at her solemnly. "You're teasing me."
"Nope." She shook her head, "This is a serious discussion about the redistribution of your wealth." She gasped a laugh when he buried his face against her neck and pressed his lips against her sweet spot until she moaned.
"Fitz… Fitz!" She clawed his head back, taking a moment to remember what she was going to say as he grinned at her wickedly.
"Fitz… you're my guy."
Fitz leaned closer to place his mouth on hers. "Does that make me special?" he mumbled against her lips.
"Very special."
"Super power special?"
She snuffled a laugh. "Behave. We're having a serious conversation."
"Let's not." He lifted his head and smiled at her tenderly. "In the dying hours of our family weekend, I don't want to have any serious conversations. Not tonight."
Olivia stroked her fingers through his hair. "Want to spend the night out here under the stars? We can ask the kids to bring their sleeping bags."
"You won't be comfortable."
"I'll be fine with a few extra pillows."
"What if you need to pee?"
"Fitz, the Oval Office is right behind us. And…" She placed a finger over his mouth, stopping a further protest. "We can make s'mores."
He kissed the tip of her finger, then ruined her warm fuzzy feelings by adding, "Maybe the kids can make those in the microwave – we don't want you starting a grass fire on the lawn." At her frown, he chuckled. "Kiss me."
"No."
He grinned, chasing her mouth until she gave in with a reluctant laugh.
A/N: Hello, first off – seasons greetings! Belated and not so belated for a Very Happy New Year! Sorry I'm late posting this, I had to rewrite most of this chapter after it appeared that Antonio Martin was shot by a cop, in response to a call for revenge tweeted by the KKK (for the New York cop shooting).
BTW, I had to post this chapter to stop re-writing it endlessly!
Again taking a crash course in American hate group history, I learnt that the KKK was initially established to put Southern Democrats in control of state governments in that region. They did this by terrorising Republican whites, but mainly blacks to keep them out of government. I had to get most of this info from reading chat-sites which referred me to a couple of books on the subject. Still if any of you know more about this and would like to correct my assumptions – please feel free to do so.
Plus, even though I have followed South Africa since my teens, and watched a little bit of live testimony from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (I couldn't bear to watch it all) I have simplified much of that history for this story, along with the American experience.
Someone asked how many chapters this story will have (LOL – when is it going to end?). Again truthfully, I have no idea. I know the ending, but the journey getting there is a work in progress –week (mostly) by week – as I finish a chapter and start on the next. Truly I am trying to write this as fast as I can but sometimes the first couple of drafts sound so stupid I have to let it sit there for a while until I stumble across inspiration via email, review, on the news or on Tumblr. In case you didn't know, you are helping me write this story! :)))
BTW, I usually put the headlines of the articles I use, as references (with links to those articles on Tumblr), but this time instead of just a reference and a link, I included a major chunk of Archbishop Desmond Tutu's speech in Toronto. I tried cutting it down but then it wasn't as powerful, so I had to put it back.
So does anyone have any good New Year resolutions? Mine is to finish this story (Phew! I hear you all say :D)
Here are my references:
Ku Klux Klan (KKK) - Profile of the Ku Klux Klan (KKK)
Presidents who were members of the KKK
Rise of the Ku Klux Klan
Passage of the Fifteenth Amendment
REVEALED: 5 US Presidents Members Of Racist Cult Ku Klux Klan (PHOTOS)
Setting the Record Straight: American History in Black & White
Review: David Barton's Setting the Record Straight: American History in Black & White, Part One
Presidents and others who were members of the KKK
Internment of Japanese Americans
An excerpt from Heart Mountain introductory film "All We Could Carry" (This is an excerpt from the introductory film by Steven Okazaki at the Heart Mountain Interpretive Learning Center (ILC) near Cody, Wyoming. The ILC commemorates the unjust incarceration of Japanese Americans at the Heart Mountain Relocation Center between 1942 and 1945)
Police ties to Ku Klux Klan shock Florida town of Fruitland Park
St John's Church
Truth and reconciliation commission
A U.S. Truth And Reconciliation Commission on Racism
This Country Needs a Truth and Reconciliation Process on Violence Against African Americans—Right Now
Un-doing cycles of vengeance: Nelson Mandela, truth and reconciliation, and the design of social justice
Truth Commission: South Africa
Greensboro massacre