THE MAN WHO WON THE HEART OF A CITY WITHOUT A WORD
Harry’s so tough and jaded. It’s all that Harry has left sometimes. Harry’sli a Baby Boomer and hates all of them/us. Harry’s a hippie and his memories go back to peace marches in Austin, hearing Jesse Jackson speak when he was still worth shit. Harry’s heartbreak is long, earned, and frozen. Part Adventurer, part black and white tv to Roku Historian, Harry may be depressed at times but it’s only because other people just won’t behave and, worst of all, they really hurt people and there was no saving them, Harry Helpless is horrible.
Harry has a haunted brain. Ghosts of moments paused forever get hit by some neuron and the sight of a little woman with the voice of a five year old who doesn’t even like Harry says, “I always thought he was just mean to me”, and hot, salty tears try to well up in Harry’s eyes but Harry pushes them out and away, it makes the cats sad.
TWIN PEAKS isn’t far from Harry’s apartment, the day of the shootings, Harry thought it was just those damned quail hunters or some such, a lot of bangs but an absence of sirens quickly following in mass didn’t happen and Harry had no idea. Harry’s last job was at a PAWN SHOP in Austin where, believe it or not, he sold AK’s, and other weaponry. Hell, when the cops said “Asp” half the courtroom thought it was a hairy worm but even Harry has one of those! Oops, he thought.
Harry was going to do the “Swedish Death Clean”, he figured, he was not going to die, perfect health but there was nothing else really to do and the things Harry used to wear he just looks butt stupid in now.
One day the voice in Harry’s head took form. Playful, trustful, bigger than Harry, and with the God given Power to easily do the “Vulcan Mind Meld” on the willing. Harry thought he was calcified, he was wrong. The last puppy had the door opened by Kevin Fisk. Seeing a heart still beating woke the vampire from the depths of braindead daily earth itself. Harry thought he was tougher than that. Might have just lived in a cave thinking all people were assholes waiting, don’t know, can’t remember, doesn’t matter because. Harry is Kevin Fisk. Harry is a Bandido, a lawyer from out of town, a heart beating and he saw himself in your mirror at the cold, morgue, run by ghouls we call Justice.
Bikers came to town for a trial scared of us. Do you hear Harry? Scared of the people of Waco, scared they could NOT GET A FAIR TRIAL FROM THE PEOPLE. The people. The guys at Auto Zone, the firemen, the teachers and accountants, the women. That was a surprise, one thing for sure, given the truth WACOANS are fair. We can be bullshitted, God knows. We are also the cosmic training ground for just plain stupid when it comes to our cops. We adore all of you too much, you guys cannot get along and for some reason we get BIGASS crazy shit here. History repeats itself and dead people look surprised. Your own cops are eating at some restaurant and killing people 45 minutes later and had no clue. THEY were betrayed. THEY were uninformed. THEY were cannon fodder too in some Harvey Weinstein big budget production of “Secret Sam” under the HOMELAND SECURITY act, bullshit with a new computer. At the finality you have to ask yourself if they’re just plain stupid, careless, or evil.
WHAT HAPPENED AT TWIN PEAKS WAS EVIL, WHAT HAS HAPPENED SINCE TWIN PEAKS IS EVIL. YOU KNOW IT. YOU FEEL IT. JAKE CARRIZAL HAD A MISTRIAL.
As the world of Waco and the courtroom watched, one man stood, in.District Court, he stood there the Mother’s son he had become, he was polite, he was gentle, he was kind, he drove a choo choo train gawdamnit. He stood there blank as a good looking woman read the indictment, and I suppose we were supposed to be distracted by her. All Jake did was stand there. There was no smirk, no sigh, no movement of the eyes, there was a long, glorious, life changing moment that fixed that moment in the part of Harry that walked with his friends at the funeral of Jim Mattox, that stayed up till three when Trump won, that suffered with Jackie, that stood on the side of the road for Lady Bird’s funeral.
When the indictment was read and they got to the part where it read that Jake had shot his own father……..
Jake clenched his fit just a tiny bit.
That American in Harry woke up, hell, it stood up and left the cave, Harry saw a leader. Harry saw nothing but leaders. Bill Morian said, “come on down”, and Kevin had Harry’s back.
Harry was just like you. Harry is you. He has dumbfucks around him that get in trouble and there is nothing more feared than lawyer fees and jpay in central Texas.
Jake did more in those five minutes to move the hearts of this city, this county, this State and this f-upped microcasm we live in, than all the “leadership of fear and trust me”, the “they” had created.
They misjudged Jake. They misjudged Harry, and when YOU and Harry figured out you weren’t alone in the fuckin’ and had a place to write or scream in name or anonymous, you jumped at it.
These old farts are going away. Replaced by the young.
Have you felt the earth scream? An’ emptiness we are willing to call “depression”? We are creatures of this dirt, this earth first. Everything around us is out of balance and it is screaming at us, it is acid reflux at three a.m., it is high blood pressure, it’s that ice cream in your mouth, it’s your cable bill. It’s your Mother Earth. It’s Justice, it’s Enough.
Have you felt more peaceful lately, since Jake’s mistrial? It’s not just relief, it’s true, There will be no more biker trials. None. Harry’s done Philosopher Stones, he knows these things.
It’s Jake Carrizal with that slick clean smelling like Ivory soap beard, it’s his mother, it’s all the mothers at the Jack Harwell, it’s the friends with the bail money. It’s the woman waiting for you worried selling a Sheltie dog.
I am you.