I’ve seen my share of rigged games. A case where the evidence has been twisted, a witness whose memory has been bought and paid for, a deck stacked before you even sit down at the table. But this was something new. A game where one side walked away, taking the deck with them so the other couldn’t play their hand. They call it a broken quorum, a parliamentary maneuver. I call it a fight over the rules themselves.
A WARRANT, NOT A WITNESS
The lines weren’t drawn with a pen; they were drawn with a warrant. The governor, a man in a suit with the power of the state behind him, ordered law enforcement to hunt down the lawmakers. Not for a crime of violence, or of theft, but for a crime of absence. He wants them returned to the chamber, not to speak, but to be a number, a body in a chair to make the game official again.
THE FIGHT FOR THE RULES
It’s a strange thing for a patriot to watch. The country I fought for is built on a simple idea: that every man gets a fair shake, that the fight is honest. But this isn’t a fight anymore. It’s a chase. A political disagreement has become a matter for the police, and the folks who are losing are the ones watching, wondering what happened to the rules.
I can’t solve it with a .38 or a well-placed uppercut. But I can see the fix for what it is. And sometimes, in this town, shining a light on the crooked lines—and the broken rules—is the only honest work there is.
Yours truly, Jack Hammer.
