The shouting and screaming continues for another couple of minutes, but Jessup is ordered to lie still. He’s on his stomach, his hands behind his head. Jewel is between him and his mother, David John on the other side of his mother, same position as Jessup. They are all supplicants. There is only one cop watching them, pistol drawn, steady aim at Jessup.
Jewel is crying.
“Hey,” he says. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
He can hear the sound of sirens in the distance. More cop cars. The first of the ambulances on their way.
Brandon Rogers, it turns out, is a screamer. One of the cops from the sheriff’s office comes over to talk to the Cortaca cop holding the pistol on Jessup and his family, says it’s just Brandon’s shoulder. Not bad for a gunshot wound. He’ll be fine. Shame it wasn’t a gut shot. Worse for others: the militia member flat on his back at the gate with the bloody face, and the protester prone on the road, different sides, both equally dead. A couple of protesters wounded, but there’s a lot going on and the cops are talking to each other, not Jessup, so it’s hard to tell.
Jessup risks raising his head a bit. He can’t see much, but he does have a clear view across the road. Sees two of the cops in SWAT gear standing together and looking across the field toward the woods on the hill, gesturing. Jessup tries to piece it together, understand where the first shots came from.
David John says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Cindy, I’m so sorry,” his voice breaking, the voice of a man who is broken. “I would never do anything to put you or the kids in . . . I’m sorry. I’m just so, so sorry.” Jessup’s mom risks reaching out, touching his hand, before the cop yells at her to put her hands back on her head and for all four of them to stay quiet.
Over the next five minutes, Chief Harris directs things. The men at the gate are all handcuffed and shuffled off across the road into the open field, their weapons collected and put in the trunk of one of the cruisers. Four cops are sent down the drive to stop congregants from coming out, trying to control the scene. There are, it turns out, three people who are shot besides Brandon and the two dead people. All three of them are protesters. One of them looks bad, shot in the stomach, but the other two seem minor, one in the lower leg, one in the thigh. The first ambulance comes screaming in, and the cops have already started triage. Brandon is not the top of the list. The EMTs are directed to the wounded protesters. Brandon can wait.
Finally, Chief Harris comes over with Earl to where Jessup is on the ground, tells Jessup and his family to get up. He motions for the cop to holster his pistol. High alert over. Turns to talk to Earl, who is asking something, pleading. Chief Harris looks shaken.
Jewel is still crying, more softly now, but with a sniffle, and once she’s on her feet she turns to her parents. David John lifts her into his arm. She wraps her legs around him like she’s a little kid again, and their mom swoops in, sandwiching Jewel between them.
Jessup stands there, alone.