This is my Story A Day In May For Day 19. I'm a day early with this. I dedicate this to Lisa McCourt Hollar who feels as I do about this subject. Carry on the fight, Lisa!
This Baby Lives
The abortion clinic on the outskirts of Denver is a complete disaster. One would think that it is a flop house intended for the homeless, one where no one bothers to change the sheets or other bed linen because it just doesn’t matter. In truth, this particular one, while supposedly run to the standards of the laws of Colorado, is actually more akin to an under the table money laundering scheme. The mob has nothing on the back room dealings of Dr. Sam Gomez, the Arapaho County Sheriffs Department, the Feds, and every crooked Judge in the state.
Women come, get their abortions, many of which are late term, the Federal government hands over exorbitant amounts of money to the clinic, and everyone is happy.
But the babies aren’t, are they?
Many palms are greased in this operation. Why not? When one doesn’t pay for the supposed necessities needed to run a sanitary and safe operation, money is saved: graft money. But the big bucks . . . the big bucks come from late term abortions, ones against the law. Right! As if a law is really such when everyone turns their backs to what is happening.
And Dr. Sam gets richer and richer and fatter and fatter; and more and more babies are killed. The cycle does not want to end.
But sometimes things don’t go as planned, do they? Not everyone plays the game. Charlie Anderson doesn’t. His wife is a resident of the clinic at the moment, waiting for the moment when their precious daughter is to be snatched from her body like she was some piece of trash. Mentally incompetent they call her. “There is no way that Felicia can care for her baby,” her parents say. And what of Charlie? Doesn’t a father have rights? Grease the palms of the right judges and anything can be accomplished. Anything. The judge says Charlie would be unable to care for the baby because he has no car or visible means of support.
Fuck! The man works. Sure it’s a low paying job, but he has relatives willing to baby sit for him if need be, and he loves his wife and loves his unborn child with every fiber of his being. His wife is not mentally incompetent: she is merely fragile, but that can be overcome. It’s not a huge obstacle.
But his in-laws merely wish the possible stigma upon the family name to go away. Next on their agenda is to get an annulment of the marriage. With no husband or grandchild hanging around, and their daughter confined to some kind of sanitarium, they can get back to their own agenda, selfish and uncaring as it might be.
Darkness comes, the place where the unknown dwells, where fear becomes heightened upon hearing every sound, no matter how quiet or loud. And yes, this is the time when deeds are carried out which usually would not see the light of day. Mostly, these deeds are evil, but sometimes . . . sometimes things must be performed now, for the dark will conceal the good contained within the soul of a protagonist on a mission of justice.
Justice has not been served for quite some time in this cesspool of abomination. Sometimes a man must rise up from the ashes of consumed evil doing and take back the good; restore the fervor of life; and do what he can to restore respect for everyone and not just the select few.
Charlie drives to the clinic with a friend, and they park a ways from the main entrance, not wanting to call attention to themselves. His friend will remain in the car. If things go bad, he will leave. That has been agreed upon up front. This will be a risky attempt at best, and Charlie doesn’t want anyone to get hurt other than himself if something bad goes down.
Though, he doesn’t like to carry a weapon, on this night, it is a measure of insurance, a last resort. He has every intention of getting his wife and baby safe and away from the hell-hole. Two .38’s are his partners tonight. And he has plenty of ammo.
Which room is his wife in? Usually, not many patients spend the night, so it should be easy to find her, but this place is huge, and he goes to door after door without finding her. This is not good! He must find her soon while it is still dark. Once the clinic opens, it could be too late to do anything. The place would be surrounded by the crooked cops and he would be thrown into the slammer and his wife and baby would still suffer the same fate.
He spots a light turned on at the end of one of the long hallways and wonders if maybe this could be it. There has to be a reason the light is on. Carefully, he makes his way to the end of the hallway and opens the door on the right first. The room is dimly lit, but he has hit pay dirt. His wife is here, sound asleep, probably drugged to keep her under control.
Damn! If any harm comes to his baby because of what they have done to Felicia and his baby, there will be Hell to pay!
The door opens once more and Dr. Gomez and a nurse walk in. There is panic in the doctor’s voice as he says, “What are you doing here and who the hell are you?”
Charlie takes one of the .38’s out of his waistband and says, “All you have to know is that this baby lives. Get out of my way if you wish to do the same.”
The doctor panics and breaks the glass on the fire alarm and lets the world know something wrong is about to happen. But his biggest mistake is when he charges Charlie. From two feet away, the slug from the .38 blows Sam’s head apart. There is no time for even a quick recognition from the doctor that something went bad. His drop to the floor is immediate.
Freezing against the wall, the nurse is no harm to him, and Charlie merely tells her to get the fuck out while the getting is good. Still no movement. Charlie pulls out the needles attached to Felicia and runs out of the room and down the hallway as fast as he can. His friend’s car is waiting outside to take them to safety. At least he hopes it still is.
Hearing the fire engines and other sirens approaching fast, Charlie knows he has to hurry even more. Seeing a male nurse approaching him with a perplexed look on his face, Charlie cold-cocks him, takes his white jacket, puts it on and runs outside with his wife in his arms. Met by the fire fighters outside, he says, “The end of the building! The fire is at the end of the building!”
They rush in the opposite direction and Charlie jumps into his friend’ car when he pulls it up. They are gone before the police arrive.
* * * *
The warm summer night is not conducive to the sleeping of his daughter, so Charlie takes her outside, lovingly cradling her in his arms. They walk together across the lawn, enjoying the solitude of the lovely dairy farm community. New Jersey is 2,000 miles away from the past. But none of that matters now. Felicia is getting stronger every day, and his precious Angela is such a delightful baby. Charlie loves her so much.
To the rest of the world, Charlie is an outlaw, a murderer, someone to be hated and feared. Tell that to Angela now, or to his lovely wife. He hides behind a full beard, concealing the face an entire nation believes to be Public Enemy Number One. It’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it? Who was the real murderer? Was it the butcher of Arapahoe County, or the father trying to protect his wife and daughter from a system that sucks?
His baby’s smile, peering up at him in the full moonlight is all the answer Charlie needs . . .