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Feb. 28th, 2015 at 6:09 PM
More than one news station is covering the statement the FBI is, finally, after a lot of pressure from the public, making about the defection of one of their own, James Shepherd. A few have spoken already, reassured the public about the steps they were taking to make sure it would not happen in the future. Noah has been sitting quietly at the very end of the group of chairs, seemingly intent on the cue cards he holds. As he stands to approach the podium, reporters remind those at home of who he is, his near miraculous rescue of a fellow agent and arrest of a major threat to America’s security around two years before; some stations edit in the photo that sealed Noah’s fate, of him with one arm around his seriously injured teammate to half-carry him, the other arm holding the criminal’s cuffed hands behind his back as he pushes him forward, looking a little ruffled, a little dirty, but unscathed, a somber expression on his face. They add that he worked with James Shepherd, and had regarded him as a personal friend before his defection and disappearance. He doesn’t look up even when he reaches the podium and lays the cards down.
“I was asked to come here today to talk about the reincarnate threat.”
The cameras pan to the faces of the higher ranking agents sitting behind him; several are frowning. Noah is already drifting from the cue cards he was instructed to stick to closely. They come back to Noah as, after a brief pause, he speaks again.
“And about how James Shepherd betrayed my trust and… friendship. The truth is…”
Something seems to shift, then, on Noah’s face as he looks up at the people watching, at the cameras on him. Maybe it would be more accurate to say something snapped.
“The truth is, James Shepherd might have betrayed his country by passing information along to other reincarnates, but not until after his country betrayed him by labeling him the enemy after his long years of service to it, because of something he couldn’t stop, and couldn’t change. Because the truth is, there is no reincarnate threat. There is a witch hunt, against witches who aren’t there. Yes, there are reincarnates. They aren’t evil. There are some who are, but there are a lot who speak out against that group, too. There are some who have been attacked for speaking out against that group. Not all reincarnates are a threat, any more than all Muslims are a threat, or all young black men, or… or all white male Protestants who take their privilege for granted, because they have never been judged just for being who they are.”
Cameras pan again, to the faces of the men that Noah is clearly talking about, mostly white, mostly middle-aged or older, and all scowling but doing nothing to stop him, like something is holding them in their chairs. Someone in the crowd yells a question; no cameras pick it up, but Noah has clearly heard, and responds.
“Am I a reincarnate? That isn’t important. You don’t have to belong to a group being persecuted to stand up and say that what’s happening is wrong. This is wrong. Reincarnates are not your enemy. Reincarnates are your mother, your brother, your wife, your son. Reincarnates are your best friend since the first day of kindergarten. Reincarnates are you, on the day when you wake up and realize that the voice in your head makes a lot more sense than it usually does before your first cup of coffee.”
In the silence that’s fallen, the few nervous snickers that provokes are obvious. Noah is still calm, strangely calm.
“I do what I do to protect my country. To protect the people of my country. Not to target them unfairly, or raise fear of them when they have done nothing to deserve it other than live. I love my country, and that’s why I can’t support what my government is doing. That’s why I am officially resigning from my position as an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations.”
Noah withdraws his badge, and his gun, and places them on the podium, atop the cue cards he didn’t even look at, then walks off the stage with his head high, shoulders straight, that same serious expression on his face that he’d worn in the famous picture. No one moves until he’s out of sight… and that’s when chaos breaks loose.
“I was asked to come here today to talk about the reincarnate threat.”
The cameras pan to the faces of the higher ranking agents sitting behind him; several are frowning. Noah is already drifting from the cue cards he was instructed to stick to closely. They come back to Noah as, after a brief pause, he speaks again.
“And about how James Shepherd betrayed my trust and… friendship. The truth is…”
Something seems to shift, then, on Noah’s face as he looks up at the people watching, at the cameras on him. Maybe it would be more accurate to say something snapped.
“The truth is, James Shepherd might have betrayed his country by passing information along to other reincarnates, but not until after his country betrayed him by labeling him the enemy after his long years of service to it, because of something he couldn’t stop, and couldn’t change. Because the truth is, there is no reincarnate threat. There is a witch hunt, against witches who aren’t there. Yes, there are reincarnates. They aren’t evil. There are some who are, but there are a lot who speak out against that group, too. There are some who have been attacked for speaking out against that group. Not all reincarnates are a threat, any more than all Muslims are a threat, or all young black men, or… or all white male Protestants who take their privilege for granted, because they have never been judged just for being who they are.”
Cameras pan again, to the faces of the men that Noah is clearly talking about, mostly white, mostly middle-aged or older, and all scowling but doing nothing to stop him, like something is holding them in their chairs. Someone in the crowd yells a question; no cameras pick it up, but Noah has clearly heard, and responds.
“Am I a reincarnate? That isn’t important. You don’t have to belong to a group being persecuted to stand up and say that what’s happening is wrong. This is wrong. Reincarnates are not your enemy. Reincarnates are your mother, your brother, your wife, your son. Reincarnates are your best friend since the first day of kindergarten. Reincarnates are you, on the day when you wake up and realize that the voice in your head makes a lot more sense than it usually does before your first cup of coffee.”
In the silence that’s fallen, the few nervous snickers that provokes are obvious. Noah is still calm, strangely calm.
“I do what I do to protect my country. To protect the people of my country. Not to target them unfairly, or raise fear of them when they have done nothing to deserve it other than live. I love my country, and that’s why I can’t support what my government is doing. That’s why I am officially resigning from my position as an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations.”
Noah withdraws his badge, and his gun, and places them on the podium, atop the cue cards he didn’t even look at, then walks off the stage with his head high, shoulders straight, that same serious expression on his face that he’d worn in the famous picture. No one moves until he’s out of sight… and that’s when chaos breaks loose.