Jessup is uncomfortable in the bed of the pickup truck. He doesn’t know where to stand and starts to move to climb down, but Brandon grabs him. “You stay here,” he says through clenched teeth. “Don’t move.”
Jessup stands back up. He knows that Brandon and Earl want him to look square at Chief Harris, but he can’t keep his eyes from lowering. All he can think about is Deanne watching this at home.
Uncle Earl is still prattling about the Second Amendment, but then he looks over to Brandon. Brandon’s quiet for a second. Jessup sees him looking across the road. There are a few cops standing off the asphalt at the edge of the plowed field, one and a half, two football fields of open land, and then a small rise filled thick by trees.
But Brandon recovers quickly. Stands next to Jessup, reaches behind him and grabs his jacket, holding him still, pinning him in place. It makes Jessup acutely aware that Earl’s jacket is too small on him.
Chief Harris doesn’t flinch. “We’re here to serve a legally enforceable warrant, and I’m asking you to have your men put down their weapons.”
Brandon takes charge again. “You can dress it up all you want, Chief Harris,” Brandon says, “but the truth is you’re coming in here with a SWAT team, with assault rifles and the full force and weight of the government behind you. Any violence that occurs here is on you and these protesters assembling unlawfully, blocking a public road. In fact, given the aggressiveness of these protesters and that our congregation is here peacefully, praising Jesus on a Sunday morning, shouldn’t you be doing your job and arresting them for blocking the road? Because if you aren’t going to do your job, I think it’s completely reasonable that the members of our church have firearms, so they can protect themselves from these—”
Brandon spins, slams into Jessup. Their feet tangle up, and Jessup goes down like he’s been tackled, Brandon on top of him. When he falls, Jessup smacks his elbow hard against the wall of the truck bed. He closes his eyes and turns his head as a shower of glass falls over him, the rear window of the truck shattered.
He processes falling and hitting the bed of the truck before he processes the sounds that accompanied Brandon’s flailing, the glass breaking: three gunshots.