Higgins sneered, slamming her gavel down. You do not wait in my courtroom, young man. You will answer the charges. I am inclined to grant Deputy Boyd's forfeiture motion immediately and remand you both to the county jail without bail. Boyd turned around to look at Jackson, a massive arrogant smirk stretching across his face.
He had won. The system worked perfectly. The trap had closed. Your honor, Jackson said, raising his shackled hands slightly. Before you sign that order, I am legally obligated to warn you that signing a forfeiture order for United States military property is a direct violation of federal law.
The crates in that truck contain highly classified naval equipment. If you proceed, you will be aiding in the theft of federal assets. Judge Higgins's face turned violently red. She grabbed her gavel, preparing to hold Jackson in contempt of court. How dare you?
You come into my courtroom spewing fairy tales and lies. I am signing the forfeiture order right now. Deputy Boyd, take them back to lockup. I'm charging them with contempt. Boyd stepped forward, reaching for Jackson's collar.
Come on, boys. Show's over. But before Boyd could lay a hand on Jackson, a deep, rhythmic vibration began to shake the floorboards of the courtroom. It was subtle at first, a low hum that rattled the windows in their wooden frames. Then it grew louder, the distinct, heavy roar of twin-engine military transport helicopters.
The sound was not passing over. It was descending. The heavy thud of rotor wash slammed against the courthouse roof, violently rattling the chandeliers in the courtroom. Judge Higgins froze, her pen hovering over the forfeiture document. Boyd looked up at the ceiling, the smirk vanishing from his face, replaced by a sudden, creeping confusion.
"What in the world is that?" Higgins demanded, shouting over the growing noise. Outside the courthouse, the terrified screams of pedestrians could be heard. Jackson slowly turned his head to look at Deputy Boyd. The calm, detached expression had finally faded from the SEAL's face.
In its place was a look of cold, terrifying promise. "You should have listened to the warning, Deputy." Jackson whispered, the words cutting through the noise of the helicopters. The waiting is over. The heavy oak doors of the Oak Creek County Courthouse didn't just open.
They were violently thrown apart. The thick brass handles slammed into the plaster walls with a sound like a thunderclap, shaking the very foundation of the room. The local bailiff, an elderly, overweight man named George, instinctively reached for his holstered revolver, but he froze instantly, his hand hovering over the leather strap. Pouring into the center aisle was a terrifying river of olive drab and black tactical gear. 12 fully armed military police officers, rifles raised at the low ready, fanned out across the room in a textbook room clearing maneuver.
Their combat boots hit the polished hardwood floor in unified heavy thuds that vibrated through the pews. "Secure the perimeter. Nobody moves." The lead MP barked, his voice echoing fiercely off the high ceiling. Judge Higgins dropped her pen.