The Five Spot, known as THE CROSSROADS, or turning point
REPORTING: BY PAULA CARROLL SWANN
STORY: BY THE LEGENDARY JIM PARKS
I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse, I ride; I’m wanted – dead or alive. – Bon Jovi
Six Shooter Junction – The women know.
You hear their mother wit in a certain timbre of honesty – hear it when they talk in terms of the truth, in the ineffable name of God.
CONSIDERETH: An elegant, long-limbed, clear-eyed woman – a sister from another mother – with a Nordic face from the ancient gallery, sits in the brilliance of slanting sunrays in the last few moments of a luminous Autumn sunset and speaks of being trafficked by her own family in a gangster deal, her pubescent body and soul traded – life for life – by a father who put out cigarettes on her naked flesh, set her cut-offs on fire with a Zippo, gave her to a man way past the age of majority, in some arcane transaction in which only she remains, to remember, with any semblance of clarity…
“THIS – IS HELL,” she concludes, gesturing at the WORLD all around her with the upraised tips of her middle fingers, the auld lang syne of the roads and alleys, the bloody paved thoroughfares of the WORLD, the way of the wheel.
Yes, WE THE PEOPLE will have a family, if not one of official, certificated GOVERNMENT record, then, the Family Of Man.
The women know; they have a right to the tree of life.
The A-D Corner, apex of the fields of fire on May 17, 2018
THE COPS called the shots; they oriented the fields of fire in their radio transmissions by referring to the sides of the Twin Peaks building by the letters A through D.
The crime scene is situated roughly north and south at the freeway interchange of I-35 at Highway 6, its proper front door facing due south, the area where shots rang out designated “A,” facing generally easterly; the “B” side with service entrances, to the north; “C” facing westerly; and “D” the southern exposure with its front door and faux bronze of an elk rampant, facing Highway Six, rhymes with Styx, as in your back trail, which traces Los El Rio de Los Brazos de Christo, so named and mapped by Los Conquistadores in a world so ancient, it seems to be from a parallel universe, long forgotten.
Hence, the apex of the L-shaped crossfire is known as the “A-D Corner,” a dog whistle nod to the pews where the elderly deacons and pastors emeritus sit in Baptist churches, and it is here that a violent confrontation between warlords turned the pavement of the crossroads slick with life’s blood shed by brothers, – by brothers – beneath the watchful eye of the “pole camera” placed there at 7 am, on the morning of the terrible ambush laid by the government – spelled with a Capital G.
Take my meaning, oh, my brothers. T’is a humble prayer. So mote it be.
THE POLE supports the Twin Peaks sign in this eastern exposure depicting the fields of sniper fire, its video imagery in real-time satellite communication with the “fusion center” jointly operated by the Department of Homeland Security and the Texas Department of Public Safety in concert with the FBI, and the rest of the alphabet soup.
THE WOMEN looked through marvelous cameras bestowed by a loving Father; they saw what was concealed with a vision sharpened by their instinctive drive to survive, to save the lives of children as yet unborn:
IT’S ABOUT THE GUN; IT’S ALWAYS ABOUT THE GUN:
Likewise, the parking places in the lot under the pole camera are numbered as to their location:
What took place in this parking lot is easy enough to understand, if you take the time and have patience enough to see it for what it is.
This part of our back story explains the significance of what follows
Quite simply, the very truth is that someone fired that first shot, and the ballistics testing has been suppressed by the finders of fact, the Waco Police, because of political infighting with the prosecution.
The conflict spilled forth from the courtrooms and conference rooms and resulted in a complete shakeup – behind closed doors – of the entire management structure of the Municipal Corporation known as the City of Waco – from the City Manager to the Chief of Police and Fire Departments, the detectives involved, and the arson investigator who refused to be counseled psychiatrically after he flatly declined to change his findings about the nature of the explosion that took a woman’s life and snuffed out those of two of her children while a third child still suffers from the night terrors of remembrance of that terrible day.
We put it to you: The body of Bandido Manny Rodriguez, the Candy Man, lies not ten feet west of the yellow motorcycle where the smoking gun was found.
He arrived on a Harley, expecting a political meeting; he left in a body bag, cut down by a bullet that consigned him to eternity.
This is the Big White Guy Officer Michael Bucher testified he shot and killed. You know who is giving him CPR. He told you so.
Bandido Jake Carrizal, the only man to stand trial so far for these depredations, testified in his own behalf one year ago that the police officer who pulled the trigger on that rifle saved his life.
He told his judges, the finders of fact operating under instructions as to an interpretation of the law, that he expected no mercy.
He received none.
Bandido Jake Carrizal got justice when 54th Criminal District Judge Matt Johnson declared a mistrial following a verdict of 11 for acquittal, one for conviction for two counts of engaging in organized criminal activity, the first for being at the scene of a capital murder and aggravated assault the second for directing the activities of an outlaw criminal gang.
Did WE THE PEOPLE get justice? I put it to you.
So mote it be.
I have spoken, with a little help from my friends.
- The Legendary