“Take
a look at this, sheriff,” Deputy Clanton, a short, dumpy, red-faced older man
in a baggy khaki uniform, said to George Martindale, a tall, rangy, almost
gaunt man in his sixties.
Martindale
walked to the desk where a laptop was open, screen lit, with ‘Play me’, in
blood red letters. He slipped on a latex glove, then pressed play. The intense
almost manic face of Jerry Fornith grinned at them angrily, then said:
“Today’s
the day. I’ve planned this for months. If you’re watching then you know I’ve
paid them back for everything they dumped on me,” and he laughed. “I got up
this morning, didn’t brush my teeth, loaded my AR-15, loaded my Beretta, which
I tucked in my belt, put on my coat that concealed my rifle, looked in the
mirror to be sure it didn’t show, then went to school.” There was a pause, as
if he was savoring his journey.
“I
thought about shooting people on the street as I passed them, but decided to
save my goodies for you know where. I timed my entrance just right, so when the
metal detector went off the hall was crowded with kids. I threw off my coat,
grabbed the rifle and opened fire. The kids started screaming and falling.
Blood spattered everywhere. Mr. Donaldson charged out of his classroom, shaking
like a leaf. He didn’t get off a shot as I put half a clip in him. The rest was
easy. I fired two more clips until the screaming almost drove me nuts. I looked
around and saw the classrooms were locked down. I was out of rifle ammo and
targets. Mission accomplished. I put my Beretta to my head and ended the best
day of my life.” There was another long pause. “If it didn’t go down that way,
I hope somebody killed me.”
Deputy
Clanton looked at the sheriff and whispered: “Holy shit. He done like he said.”
Martindale
shook his head sadly. “Used to be kids was just full of talk. This video is
going to shock a lot of people.”
“Will
it change anything?” Clanton asked.
“Only
if they ban those guns and it ain’t gonna happen.”
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