‘Give me that phone, or, I’ll shoot you in the head’

A screen shot from a surveillance video camera at Twin Peaks, moments after shots rang out and people in blind panic fled for their lives

“Shared from Cisneros, Patricia – San Antonio

An inbox message…FROM A WAITRESS IN TWIN PEAKS. ON MAY 17, 2015.

“”I know you said you aren’t writing Stories anymore but I hope you will share this. I was a waitress there. The bikers are telling the truth. They saved our lives. The policemen in Waco really were pretending to be bikers. They have been trying to be setting up the bikers for months because one approached me trying to get me to help him. He was here as a biker and as a policeman that day. They scared us all to death and treated us like common criminals. I still have nightmares of the black policeman screaming at me that he was going to shoot me. I may forget what it smelled like in the freezer. I may forget watching them scream at dying men and wouldn’t let them have ambulances or doctors. I may forget that biker cop and the way he smiled at me like he was having fun. I will never forget the fear I felt that day because I felt like I was in a war and the policemen were the bad guys. If you don’t want to write any more stories it’s okay.” Shared from Cisneros, Patricia – San Antonio

The week of Monday, February 20, 2017 started with a bang.

Cisneros, Patricia, who admits that is not her real name, made a Facebook entry in a double blind cutout that led back to former national columnist Amy Irene White of “Easy Riders” fame. Nearly two years before, White had promised to go after and get the story of a waitress who endured the police assault in reaction to a shooting fracas that began over what had been represented as having been compelled from everything from a parking dispute to a turf war over who has the right to proclaim their club’s origins as “Texas” on their colors. 

The young women who looked so good wearing low-cut flannel lumberjack shirts, short shorts and clunky boots worked for little more than minimum wage and hefty tips from patrons who lined the nationally franchised Twin Peaks establishment to watch sports events on big screen televisions while they enjoyed burgers and ice-cod beer. 

Naturally, having lived through such a frightening event, they were horrified that someone might come after them in order to assure their silence.Though eye witnesses had asserted all along that the Waco cops who organized the alleged offenders into columns, confiscated their phones and put them on city buses to be transported to the downtown Convention Center were hostile, threatening, no one would actually go on the record with their impressions until this quote appeared, without clear attribution to other than a “waitress” who had been there when about 90 seconds of the hell of war and flying rounds broke loose and demons in possession of human souls while in the skillful application of executive force strode through the crowd assuring their charges they would shoot to kill them if they didn’t obey their commands. 

All the while, those wounded with the tumbling, fragmenting, roughly quarter-inch diameter .223 rounds fired exclusively by police, lay bleeding to death until the crime scene had been secured, cleared, and order had been restored – if there ever was any to begin with at a scene in which bikers opposing one other over their club affiliations, either the red and gold worn by the Bandidos and their supporters, or black an gold, the color of the Cossacks who refused to cooperate with the Bandidos and the Confederation of Clubs and Independents, had clearly stepped into eternity in an L-shaped ambush that both panicked and rendered helpless the fiercely opposed groups.

Within hours, the item had been shared to other Facebook time lines hundreds of times and its number of persons reached had climbed well above 10,000. By Wednesday evening at 10 p.m. news time, the quote was well above the 48,000 mark – a clear indication that people nationwide, throughout the central Texas I-35 corridor from Laredo to Minneapolis and points east and west, from sea to shining sea, were hungry for information, no matter how sensational or vague.

This set Dallas attorney F. Clinton Broden, whose law firm represents in cooperation with a Hempstead partnership those who wear the black and gold, to inquire of the alternative news media just who Cisneros, Patricia is, and how he could get in touch with her to take her statement for the record. The abogado had reached out across the lines, from Big D to the Alamo City, headquarters of the international biker club, Los Bandidos. 

Broden made his inquiry casually, asking journalists had favored with court documents, statements and invitations to news conferences and crucial court appearances to relay his message.

Cisneros, Patricia’s friends responded that if she could and would put he and his colleagues in contact with the anonymous waitress, she would reply through Amy Irene White in a double cutout when she knew she could not be double crossed, her life placed in danger.

The uneasy community of Texan motorcycle enthusiasts settled down to wait under the conditions imposed by high dollar bonds for the alleged offenders and the gag orders for attorneys and law men imposed by a ruling by 54th Criminal District Judge Matt Johnson early in the summer of 2015, the fabled “gag order” that covered only the case of Matthew Allen Clendennen, a member of the Cossacks support club, the Scimitars, who operates a commercial lawn and grounds care service for area corporations.

It was a vague and ill-defined milestone, one without clear focus, but it was the first public acknowledgement by a person not directly involved with the so-called “melee”  rumored for many months on social media that cops disguised as bikers had fanned out through the crowds during the weeks preceding Sunday, May 17, 2015, antagonizing and threatening the patrons of Twin Peaks, especially those wearing patches of the Confederation of Clubs and Independents whose ranks include members of the Bandidos and their support clubs, and on the day of the massacre, turning their coats and appearing as police officers who wielded AR-15 assault rifles with deadly menace while their uniformed colleagues threatened in loud tones that they would not hesitate to kill any and all who opposed them in any way.

One had to ask, quietly, of one self, “What, exactly, would be on a waitress’ phone, or any woman’s, a casual eye witness to what happened, either employed at the restaurant, or waiting for a political meeting of the Confederation of Clubs and Independents?”

These are mature women, both ingenues prima gravitas, grandmothers and matrons alike, mothers of families, grandmothers of young families of young men and women. What would they have on their phones?

Pictures. Pictures of kids, friends, parties, good times, bikes, text messages, phone numbers, news items, subscriptions to features and software, games…all the impedimenta of McLuhan’s global electronic village, the last neighborhood in the world as we know it, shrunken, made small by NASA, jets, satellites, and global information wars waged by anonymous hackers of governments, guerillas, and the political process.

That’s what. As such, it was only part of a process of desensitization, in which privacy or even common decency under attack from hostile forces of law and order, aggression by warring factions of private citizens who had formed alliances based on creeds, codes and other arcana of the darkness on the edge of town so well described by “Boss” Springsteen – the politics of a world rushing headlong into a “runaway American dream” turned nightmare.

So mote it be.

The Legendary  

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