Hail the assassin as your hero! Lift him up on your shoulders and show his brave deed to your children! Tell them to emulate his example and follow his footsteps! Kiss the ground he walked on! Congregate outside the prison that holds him and shout slogans so he hears your support through the walls. Because soon, the only heroes left in your life will be those with blood on their hands and death in their hearts.
Jaleel was overjoyed. He had long hoped to break into the ranks of those who could attend these little gatherings where the high-ups of media and industry would chit-chat and socialise, discussing past present and future intrigues.
This particular gathering was seemed to be a very important one and although he didn’t know it at the time, it would lead to one of the greatest travesties in the history of his country.
As he sat, pretending to sip on the alcoholic beverage he had been handed, he looked around at the faces in the dimly lit room. Here they were, the biggest names in the media - hosts, producers, executives and chiefs - mingling with politicians and tycoons. Accidentally, he took a huge gulp as he recognised an ex-President. He looked different somehow but it was him sure enough. He had been ousted by the current dictator and had been vowing revenge ever since. Wide-eyed, throat burning from the extra large gulp of Johnnie Walker Black Label, he looked on as Mr exPrez, spoke in earnest with the chief executive of one of the largest private TV networks of his country. His wide-eyes followed the two as they slowly, furtively sauntered off to a dark corner of the room to continue their eager discussion.
Very carefully, Jaleel zig-zagged, almost aimlessly, towards a pillar nearby and leaned against it, hoping to catch some of the conversation.
“Sir gee, it would be easy for us. We hold the minds of the people. What we tell them BECOMES the truth. We are prophets and few recognise our power but we have a responsibility to the people and such responsibility comes with a heavy price !” Jaleel recognised the voice of the media chief. Almost immediately came the low, snarling reply of Mr exPrez “and what PRICE would that be exactly?”
Media Chief laughed, a hollow laugh and coughed slightly as if to clear his throat.
Just then, there was an uproar from the other side of the room. Jaleel turned to look and saw two women standing on a coffee table kissing each other, passionately whilst the crowd cheered and jeered. He turned his attention back to the conversation that had continued uninterrupted.
“….do you think these numbers frighten me? I will gladly pay double that amount…more if needed but I want everyone against him, I WANT HIM OUT, I WANT HIM HANGED … ” The low snarl had gradually risen to a choked roar, filled with hatred and vengeance and then suddenly became a secretive snarl again “I will give you 8 billion amreeki dollars if you can do it and i promise you, when i am back in my rightful place, you will be in my very good graces”
Jaleel almost choked. The alcohol had his head reeling…could this be happening…?
-
He watched events unfold and couldn’t believe that he was watching the most powerful dictator in the history of his country changing from a beneficent and upright dictator into a vile monster. On TV, his every action seemed to be vile and corrupt and he was on a murderous rampage through the country that he had ruled for 8 long years. Jaleel almost believed it himself…but for a hazy memory of the sordid meeting and the figure of 8 BILLION Amreeki dollars…
