by Timothy Braatz

1. Red Wave

Tuesday night.

What a fiesta! Sharon’s famous guacamole. Country music on Mike’s stereo. White string lights on their back patio.

Then Sharon brought out the main course. The dishes had little labels. Trump Tacos. Pence Pozole. Sharon should open a restaurant, it’s that good.

I’m sharing these details to prove my memory is sharp. It’s about credibility. I’m a red-blooded American, not some online troll in China, and I saw what I saw.

Mike had on Fox News. Whenever they called a state for Trump, we could hear the whole neighborhood cheering. Iowa. Indiana. Kentucky. Mississippi. Alabama. Another landslide in the making.

Four more years!

After they called Missouri, we strung up the Kamala piñata. Mike handed me the blindfold and said go first.

Only liberals wear masks!

Good point. I tied the blindfold on Kamala and we took turns bashing her with a 7-iron. Instead of candy, she was filled with trash.

A woman yelled, Trump won Florida! Then she jumped in the pool.

Trump won Florida, and fun fact: Florida picks the president. Every time.

Sharon brought out a flat cake that said Keep America Great Again.

Amy, my wife, said she had a headache and wanted to go home.

No way. The so-called pollsters predicted Biden would win. Last time, those clowns bet on Hillary, so I knew it was fake news. Still, I was nervous. Right up until they called Florida. Now I wanted to party like it’s 2021.

Trump took Ohio! Another woman took the plunge. A pool party in November. If that’s global warming, I’m all for it.

Ohio and Florida, the two biggest swing states. Forty-seven electoral votes for Trump. Signed, sealed, delivered.

Mike cranked up the stereo. Body, wanna feel my body? Come on, people! Trump’s campaign song! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Everyone joined in on the chorus. Macho, macho man!

You get the picture. Dancing and singing. Hugs and high-fives. President Donald J. Trump riding the red wave back to the White House.

Four more beers!

Biden supposedly still had a chance. All those fake media say the same thing. Narrow path to victory. Race to 270. They want to keep you glued, like football announcers during a blowout.

But Trump was ahead by fifteen percent in Pennsylvania. Call it, already. He was also winning Michigan and Wisconsin. Same as 2016. That’s the red wave.

Then Fox News called Arizona for Biden. Are you friggin’ kidding me?

My buddy Ken pointed out that you can’t trust Fox. Hannity still tells the truth, but their factual reporters are practically liberals now. So this was fake news.

I can prove it. Arizona voted for Bush, then McCain, then Romney, then Trump. Solid red state. Why would we change in 2020?

We wouldn’t.

They had barely started counting Maricopa County. That’s Scottsdale, Mesa, Glendale, Phoenix. Biggest metro in Arizona. Joe Arpaio country. America’s Toughest Sheriff. We elected Sheriff Joe six times, even after he violated a court order to quit racial profiling.

I’ve got to be a macho man!

I can assure you it was all Republicans where I voted. I saw maybe two obvious Democrats with their masks and Subarus. So I knew that once the officials got around to counting Maricopa County, counting ALL the votes, Trump wins AZ. Don’t hold your breath, libtards. Arizona is not turning blue.

The other channels all said Arizona was too close to call. They also said Georgia was in play.

Georgia? The only Democratic candidates that ever took Georgia are Southerners. You can google it yourself. Biden’s from Delaware. That ain’t Dixie.

You know what else wasn’t right? On the drive home, Amy told me she voted for Biden. I thought she was joking. She said it was because the way Trump insults everyone. Especially women. And how he always seems angry.

Jesus, Amy. You’d rather have a nice, sweet president who ruins the economy and lets in illegals to have abortions?

In my defense, it was the beer that was shouting. But did she not listen to our pastor’s sermon? The ways of God are mysterious. The Lord works through flawed men.

Un-friggin-believable. My wife voted for a guy who campaigned from his basement while Trump bravely held rallies across the country. If Biden’s afraid of a little pandemic, what’s he going to do when terrorists attack? Hide out in the White House bunker?

I couldn’t sleep. My wife votes the wrong way, what does that say about me?

I turned on the TV. Trump came on live and announced he won. I didn’t dare wake up Amy. Just a few silent fist pumps instead. Hell! Yeah!

Trump has experts who know the demographics. Every county. Each precinct. They must have determined he was a lock.

That’s why I’m telling my story. Even if the cancel culture attacks me. Even if Antifa torches my house, as promised. Even if Wolverinepatriot89 really does shoot me down like the dog that I am. If my president says he won, there’s no way he lost.

The news station cut away. They claimed President Trump was saying false things.

Lamestream media. They didn’t cut away when Clinton said he never had sex with that woman. They didn’t delete Obama when he denied sending guns to the Mexican cartels. They only censored President Trump.

That’s when I first thought maybe he’s right, the election is rigged. He’d been saying so for months. Now they won’t let him declare victory. What is going on?

Trump said he was going to ask the Supreme Court to stop the counting so no one suddenly finds a box of ballots at 4 a.m.

Most people don’t know this, but three justices helped Bush stop the vote count in Florida in 2000. That’s Kavanaugh, Roberts, and the new lady.

So Trump definitely should have gone to the Supreme Court. First thing Wednesday morning. But he didn’t.

2. Blue Mirage

Wednesday morning.

They’re doing it, man. Ken was phoning me way too early. They’re stealing the election.

Sure enough, fake news was saying Biden was ahead in Wisconsin and Michigan and catching up in Pennsylvania. While America was sleeping, somebody flipped the numbers.

Funny, Ken said, how they didn’t reverse Arizona.

What are we going to do?

I’m going to work, Ken said. Call me when they take away Florida.

Cornflakes for breakfast. When I opened the frig I swear I thought about grabbing a beer. Breakfast of losers. I wasn’t going there yet.

Fake news: The remaining ballots in Wisconsin should heavily favor Joe Biden.

How could they know, unless it’s rigged? I have relatives in Wisconsin. Real Americans who still go to church. Believe me, Wisconsin is a very red state.

Except Madison, which isn’t really Wisconsin. More like a crappy piece of Illinois that broke off and drifted north. It’s all liberals because of the university. They graduate and can’t find jobs so they stick around Madison living on government handouts.

Tucson is like that. A big university. A bunch of socialists. So is Austin, Texas. Boulder, Colorado. Makes you wonder what they’re teaching. Revisionist history. Radical feminism. Ecoterrorism. There’s a reason it’s called liberal arts.

Think about it. Get rid of the universities, no more liberal cities. I’m not saying do it, necessarily. Some schools you could keep. Arizona State hasn’t turned Maricopa County into liberal heaven, so you know it’s an okay school. Go Sun Devils!

Fake news: Biden’s lead is growing in Michigan.

When I’m stressed, I start coughing. I was coughing now.

I don’t know anyone in Michigan but I’m pretty sure it’s like Ohio. No way Biden could be winning there. Maybe in Detroit, one of those corrupt cities run by Democrats.

Get rid of the corrupt cities and the liberal universities. No Democrat would ever win another election anywhere. Not even for dogcatcher. The whole country would be Wyoming.

Trump was still ahead in Pennsylvania. Like by 200,000 votes. But fake news said the absentee ballots favored the Democrats.

This is exactly what Trump predicted. Voting by mail equals fraud. It could be a deceased person. It could be Osama bin Laden in a cave. Anyone can lick a stamp. It could be a cat.

I called the state Republican headquarters. Their recording said go to the website and make a donation. What good would that do? Trump doesn’t need my twenty bucks. He needs people in the streets.

I called my boss and coughed into the phone. Probably my asthma acting up, Tom. But I should work from home today, just in case.

He laughed. Sounds like a case of BIDEN-19.

Tom, have you seen what’s happening? Cough, cough. It’s making me queasy.

Relax, man. Trump’s got lawyers ready to roll. They’re going to toss out the late ballots. They’re going to stop the counting.

If they stop, Trump wins Pennsylvania and Georgia.

Exactly. How’s your Biden flu now?

No, listen. He would lose Nevada and Arizona. Biden wins 270 to 269.

Tom laughed again. Trump won’t stop the count in Arizona. They’ve still got hundreds of unopened boxes from Maricopa County.

Reader, that’s my whole point. Hundreds of unopened boxes. Thousands of uncounted votes. Tens of thousands. Follow the boxes.

Don’t watch the election all day, Tom said. You’ll drive yourself mad.

Someone has to keep an eye on this.

Fake news: The Biden camp is confident they will win Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania, the so-called blue wall that Hillary lost.

Think about it. After everything President Trump has done, on immigration, on the economy, on China, no way those states flip to Biden. Sorry, looney libs, it’s a blue mirage. Enticing but not real.

I tried to imagine what the Biden camp looked like. People singing campfire songs. About raising taxes. Singing in Ukrainian.

The next time I called the Republican headquarters, I got a real person. She asked if I wanted to make a donation. I told her I already had.

Reader, I’m not going to lie to you. I didn’t donate to any candidate. Amy lost her job because of the pandemic. Our health premiums are through the roof. We’re barely making the mortgage.

The real person said a second donation would help make sure all legal votes get counted.

I didn’t say it, but Jesus Christ on a bike, lady. Trump has to hold on in Pennsylvania and catch up in Arizona, and you want me to write a check? I told her I wanted to take action.

She said they needed volunteers to remove signs. Thanks, but that’s not what I had in mind.

You know what’s depressing? Sitting on the couch at ten in the morning, drinking a beer, watching an election get stolen. Totally helpless.

Outside, the sun was shining. My neighbor’s lawn was politically-correct brown. My faded Trump sign, through the perilous night, was still gallantly standing. Nothing had changed.

But inside, on the fake news: We can now project that Vice President Joe Biden will win Wisconsin and its ten electoral votes.

Project? What does project mean? It means you’re guessing. It means you’re lying.

Fox screwed us, Ken said, when he called again. Not those communists at MSNBC. Not Rachel Mad Dog. Our guys. They called Arizona way too early. So then people stop counting votes because why bother. It’s all over Twitter. Every other state they’re counting millions of ballots. Arizona just quits. Thank you, Fox News, for the self-fulfilling prophecy. Whatever happened to fair and balanced?

Won’t the governor step in?

Ken scoffed. Governor Ice Cream?

He’s a Republican.

He’s two scoops of nothing. The secretary of state is in charge of the election. She’s a Democrat.

Jesus, Ken. If we can’t trust Fox News anymore, where does that leave us?

It left me clenching my fingers and coughing and watching CBS. Some expert was saying Biden didn’t get the Latino vote the way he was supposed to.

I called the Republican headquarters and gave them a piece of my mind. Listen, there’s no way President Trump can be losing in Arizona with all our Latinos. Something’s not right.

Exactly, sir. That’s why President Trump has created an Official Election Defense Fund. Can you give one hundred dollars today?

I thought that Jewish billionaire in Vegas paid for everything.

I don’t know about that, sir. But I can assure you that every dollar you give helps expose voter fraud. If you can’t do one hundred today, can you do fifty? Fifty gets you the Trump 2020 bumper sticker.

Already got one.

One hundred gets you the sticker and a t-shirt. I can take your credit card number right now.

Hold on a second, I said, and hung up.

A guy wants to put boots on the ground. All they can say is give us money. No wonder they lost Wisconsin.

Amy finally crawled out of bed. Her headache was worse.

I told her if Trump doesn’t win Arizona, Biden steals the election.

She squinted at me. At the beer bottles. One empty. One almost there.

Arizona, Amy. It’s going to be close.

3. Scumbags

Wednesday evening.

Turns out they count the votes, or not, at the Ballot Tabulation Center. The BTC. Downtown Phoenix, if you’re interested. Third and Lincoln.

People were milling around in the parking lot. Trump people. Biden supporters wouldn’t dare.

Build that wall! Build that wall!

Lots of American flags. Some with thirteen stars. Don’t Tread on Me. Make Liberals Cry Again. Guys with guns and combat gear. An old woman with Trump’s big pink face on her blouse, his eyes where her breasts used to be. An angry woman with a red MAGA hat and a megaphone.

Shame on Fox! Shame on Fox!

Ken and I had been watching TV. Fake news kept saying Georgia and Pennsylvania and Nevada and Arizona are still too close to call. When we saw live footage from the rally, it was a no-brainer. We grabbed another beer for the road.

Count every vote! Count every vote!

Cheers went up whenever a passing car honked. A top-down Corvette with a Trump flag. A Hummer with thumping bass: I want to be a macho man!

More cheers after the megaphone woman led the Pledge of Allegiance.

Fuckin’ God bless America, man!

More cheers after a courageous attempt at the National Anthem.

USA! USA!

You get the picture. Two hundred people in full-throated cry, waving flags, raising fists, accomplishing nothing.

I didn’t come down here for a pep rally, Ken said. We’ve got to get inside. Walk in like we belong.

Excuse us. Sorry. Can we get by? We pushed through the Trump signs until we hit a khaki wall of sheriff’s deputies, shoulder to broad shoulder.

Officer, we’re concerned citizens. Very concerned.

Crime scene tape spanned the stairway. Behind that, through large glass doors, a fluorescent lobby. A few people standing around. A few sitting at desks. No one appeared to be talking. No one seemed to care an angry mob was at the gate.

Stop the steal! Stop the steal!

Officer, seriously, we signed up to be official observers. They said come down here.

The deputy’s COVID mask made him hard to hear, but his arm muscles and bullet-proof chest said we weren’t getting through.

A bearded protester nudged me. Dude, we were in there with the vote counters. Like an hour ago.

What happened?

Got escorted out. Tyranny’s coming, man. He was head to toe in desert camouflage, a pistol on his hip.

I’m surprised they spotted you.

My attention returned to the stark interior. A few anonymous people, behind locked doors and masked cops, secretly deciding who won Arizona. Quietly choosing the next president of the United States. Think about it. Who chose them? Who gave them all that power?

You need to back up! The deputy had his mask down. He looked humorless. Right now!

Right-o. We fought our way back through the flag-wavers and ran into Paul Gosar, the only guy in a coat and tie on a hot night.

For those not from Arizona, Paul Gosar is our 4th District representative and a real straight shooter. Calls it like he sees it. Stands his ground. He wants FBI officials tried for treason. Wants mining and drilling in national parks. He boycotted the Pope because the Holy Father believes in global warming.

So when Gosar showed up at the BTC, I knew this was for real. They gave him the megaphone. He told us President Trump was catching up in Arizona. He said, Folks, the latest vote dump decreased the lead down to like 70,000. Just with Maricopa, if this trend stays the same, we can get it down to 12,000. Then the rural will take over. And a lot of those are my district. This is something we can get done.

That drew shouts and applause. A woman called out, What about the Sharpies?

Folks, what we got to do now is we got to get everybody to go back on the website to trace your ballot. Make sure it was counted.

Before the election, Gosar’s brothers and sisters took out ads against him. They said he’s racist. Said he’s a liar. He still won. That’s the kind of guy he is.

He loosened his tie and raised his voice. Folks, the fake news media are traitors. Our secretary of state is a joke. That’s why we got our state attorney general involved. Folks, we’re going to fight to the bitter end. This is our Alamo.

A local reporter was trying to tape her soundbite. She found herself surrounded.

No fake news! No fake news!

We’ll find where you live, lady.

That last comment came from the militia crowd. Some of you won’t like me saying this, but those guys are ridiculous. They got bullied in high school, wouldn’t last a day in the military, so they take a break from their video games and dress up in tactical vests and strut around with their assault rifles and claim they are keeping the peace. You saw what happened in Kenosha, right? A teenage wannabe used his stimulus money to buy an AR-15 to help the militia numbskulls protect the streets. He killed two people. You think that helped Trump win undecided voters in Wisconsin? What about in Michigan? A bunch of yahoos plotted to kidnap the Democratic governor, take over the capitol building, and start executing hostages. You think people voted for four more years of that?

Sorry about the rant. Deep breath.

I want to be clear, I’m not a conspiracy guy. I don’t think we need to stock up on canned goods and ammo. I wasn’t at the BTC to play G.I. Joe. I was there to prevent a stolen election. I was there to get facts. Which I did.

Speaking of yahoos, the next guy with the megaphone was Alex Jones. Radio host of Infowars. Advisor to President Trump. He growled and rasped like Darth Vader on a ventilator. We don’t know how this is going to end, he warned. But if they want to fight, they better believe we’re going to fight. We’re going to take on the Soroses and the Gateses. We’re going to take it directly to those scumbags. They will be destroyed because America…is…rising. 1776 is the answer to 1984!

1776! 1776!

Jones is nutty but he gets folks pumped.

Militia, fall in!

Several dozen heroes assembled.

Forward, march!

To great applause, the camo crew went parading north on Third, flags flying, assault rifles chest high, barrels down.

They didn’t get far. A police cruiser sped in, lights flashing. A woman’s voice barked, Get off the street! Stop blocking traffic! That’s a lawful order!

What happened, I asked a retreating warrior. I thought we were taking it to the scumbags.

We’re not Black Lives, he said. We respect the blue.

Alex Jones had disappeared. That’s for the best. I want to elect Republicans to keep taxes low and the homeland secure. Alex Jones isn’t helping. This is the blowhard who said the Sandy Hook school shooting was faked and 9/11 was an inside job and the government is putting chemicals in the water supply to turn people gay so they don’t have children. This is the conman who claimed the toothpaste he was hawking would cure COVID-19. Then he turned around and said COVID was a hoax and if the lockdown continued he would skin and eat his neighbors.

The MAGA hat woman had her megaphone back. She seemed to understand a prayer was in order, if not an exorcism. Patriots and patriotettes, she said, let’s take a moment. We need to bring Our Lord and Savior in on this.

Quiet, everybody! Moment of silence! Shh!

Lord, a lot of us are confused tonight.

True that, Ken whispered.

Some of the confused took a knee. Flags shouldered, heads bowed, camo hats turned backwards. Ostentatious piety. Matthew 6:5, if you’re interested.

Lord, a lot of us are confused why dead people’s ballots were received. We’re confused why it takes so long to count 600,000 votes. Why they’re still not finished. Lord, we ask you to reveal the truth right here in Arizona, not the lies.

Amen!

Fox News sucks! Fox New sucks!

I’m glad I didn’t take a knee. I’m glad I didn’t close my eyes. Because when everyone else was appealing for divine intervention, I observed a delivery truck turn into the parking lot and disappear behind the building.

4. The Mighty Pen

Tuesday afternoon.

This is what happened when we voted, Amy and me, after I got off work.

It was all Republicans in line, like I said. Six feet apart in the bright sun. Hand sanitizer on the way in and out. Nothing to worry about, snowflakes. Voting won’t kill you.

It might save your soul. Most voting stations in Maricopa County are churches. Lutheran, Methodist, Episcopal, LDS, Serbian Orthodox. Pick your poison.

Ken voted at a Chinese Baptist. True story.

Instead of a sticker, they gave him a fortune cookie. Just kidding.

Amy, how about the Islamic Center in Scottsdale?

She didn’t find that funny. She just wanted to go to the closest Christian place. True Christian, not Catholic. Even if it was a mortuary.

Good choice, actually, once you were inside. Serious air conditioning. Soft carpet.

We were in line probably twenty minutes. That’s twenty minutes hearing everyone make the same joke about dead people voting. Twenty minutes listening to some know-it-all explain how you should take a selfie with your ballot. Front and back. Then send the pictures to someone you trust. Because that’s the only way to protect your vote.

I wasn’t worried. The only suspicious thing I saw was a black guy scoping out the mortuary parking lot. I locked our car doors and gave him stink eye. I wasn’t being racist. I just thought, Why’s he wearing a dark dress suit on a hot day?

Amy agreed he looked sketchy. On our way out, we should call the cops.

Again, these details are just for believability. What comes next is what matters most.

In the voting booth they had those felt-tip markers called Sharpies. I asked for a regular pen. They said use the Sharpie.

I thought, okay, with this thick black ink, there’s no mistaking who you voted for. It’s faster too. Especially when you vote one party, straight down the line.

That’s what I said to Amy when we were leaving. I wish those standardized tests back in school were like that. Just shade in all the bubbles in column B.

Amy said she was always jealous of those rebellious kids who randomly filled in their answer form and went straight to recess. Maybe that’s why she voted for Sleepy Joe Biden, whose son took bribes in Ukraine. For once in her life, she wanted the thrill of being irresponsible.

Good for her. I guess. She could have told me in advance. Honey, my vote is going to cancel out your vote. We could have skipped the mortuary.

A sign by the voting booths said photography was a misdemeanor. The know-it-all started making a fuss. If I can see it, I can film it. You can’t trespass my eyes. I know my Constitutional rights. One of those guys.

Then the black guy from the parking lot showed up. He had a real calm demeanor. Not what you’d expect. He got the know-it-all to settle down and go vote. Then walked him to the door. Come to find out, he’s the funeral director.

Other than that, no problems. Your ballot goes into an envelope. One lady says your name out loud. So-and-So has voted. Another lady crosses you off the list so you can’t vote twice.

You know what would work better? Online voting. Think about it. Billions of dollars get transferred online every day. If we can trust online banking, we can trust online voting. They do it in Switzerland. Polls close at 8 p.m. Results by 8:10. Welcome to the 21st century.

Better than voting by U.S. mail, right?

President Trump said, Don’t fall for it. Vote in person. He even tried to slow down the post office. Democrats still sent their ballots in early.

That’s why it looked like Sleepy Joe was winning Arizona. Democrats got counted first. Then comes Election Day. Republicans show up big-time. Biden’s lead starts shrinking. That’s what Gosar was talking about. Count all the votes and Trump takes Arizona.

I’m not saying they faked the pandemic so everyone had to vote by mail. I haven’t seen proof either way so I’m keeping an open mind. But search the internet: sharpies Arizona election. Prepare to be shocked. Prepare to discover that when Sharpie ink bleeds through the paper, they invalidate your ballot.

Again, I’m not saying they did it on purpose, the secretary of state or whoever. But their explanation for having Sharpies is because the ink dries faster. Oh, really? You need fast-drying ink in early November when it hasn’t rained for months and it’s ninety-five degrees and zero percent humidity?

Over 3.3 million people voted in Arizona. Trump voters favored going to the polls. They were given Sharpies. Just being conservative (no pun intended), twenty thousand Trump votes got tossed. Biden supposedly won by eleven thousand. Do the math. Trump won Arizona by at least nine thousand votes.

If you want proof, go to my website.

www.azistopthesteal.com

Check out the bleed-through on my ballot. I snuck photos in the voting booth, thank God. Front and back.

5. Back the Truck Up

Wednesday night.

I grabbed Ken and we hustled around to the north side of the building. The delivery truck I spotted during the prayer was parked at a loading bay.

Okay, they’re bringing in more boxes. That’s more Maricopa ballots to be counted. More votes for President Trump. I didn’t know yet about Sharpie-gate, so I’m like, Okay, Gosar’s right, we’re going to win this.

Nope. They were taking boxes OUT. Sneaking them out a side door. Loading them into the truck. I’ve posted pictures on the website.

www.azistopthesteal.com

The only light was from the hallway. That’s why the photos are dark. But you can definitely see a guy carrying a white box. People say you can’t tell if he’s loading or unloading. Believe me, they were taking boxes OUT.

How do I know the boxes contained ballots? Let’s see, it’s the Ballot Tabulation Center. The night after the election. What else would be in the boxes, Christmas presents?

I even shouted, Hey, what’s in those boxes? They all froze. Caught red-handed. Then right back to work.

Ken said, Stay here. I’ll fetch help.

That left me and my phone. Check out the video on my website.

www.azistopthesteal.com

It gets interesting at 3:12. The driver and a passenger get in the truck to leave. The passenger walks right past me. Mexican guy. Diamondbacks ballcap. He’s got a soft drink and he’s sucking a straw. He says, You a YouTuber or something?

I tell him, Stealing ballots is a federal offense.

He says, Chill out, bro, it’s pizza, and climbs into the cab.

I tell him, That’s twenty years in prison.

He says, Get a real job, and slams the door.

You can hear me shout, I got a real job. Cough. I work for Joe Arpaio. And I got you on video, bro.

I stepped in front of the truck to snap a clear shot. No license plate. Some people say you can see a temporary license taped to the windshield. Ask me, that’s too convenient. Ask me, an unmarked truck was removing unprocessed ballots from an unlit loading dock.

Next you see the passenger flip me off. If that’s not clear admission of guilt, how about the driver gunning the engine and steering right at the eyewitness? I had to scramble for my life.

That’s where the video cuts out. Dead battery. I know, total amateur move. I’m more disgusted than you are. What came next would have gotten five million views easy.

Ken’s voice. Don’t let them leave! Tell them to stop!

The bearded guy in desert camo was right behind him. I’ll call him Roy. Roy was yelling, Make a citizen’s arrest!

Not to be sarcastic, but was I supposed to shout, Hands in the air! I’m a citizen! Do I flash my passport? I don’t actually have one. Will my birth certificate do?

The truck rolled past. No rear plate either.

Follow the boxes. I started running, if you can call it that. Hey! Shoot out the tires!

Roy went for his pistol.

Shoot ‘em!

He couldn’t get the gun unholstered.

Brake lights. The driver was maneuvering through parked cars. He was almost to Third Avenue.

The infantry finally arrived. Five guys with assault rifles and one big American flag. Boots thumping asphalt. Minutemen a minute too late.

The lead warrior had his arm extended toward the truck, holding his phone, capturing footage. He didn’t see the orange traffic cone. He went down hard. Found out later, he was filming himself.

The flag-bearer tried to hurdle his wounded comrade. He staggered forward, tucked into a forward roll, ended up on all fours. Dazed but still in the game. Those obstacle courses in the desert paid off.

A woman yelled, Pick up the flag!

He didn’t. He was back on his feet, gun barrel pointed forward. A doughboy crossing no-man’s land. Chugging hard for the parking lot exit.

He must have smacked the pavement during that somersault. Must have protected his rifle, not his melon. When the concussion caught up with him, he wobbled and crumbled and stayed down.

He did stop the truck, I’ll give him that. The driver braked hard to avoid running him over.

Phew.

Everyone hit pause. Just for a second.

Then two young boys came racing. They muscled the big flag upright like at Iwo Jim. A loud cheer as Old Glory unfurled in the gleam of street lamps. Trump’s face adorned the stripes. His raised fist blocked out the stars.

The driver floored it. One last admission of guilt.

People tell me it doesn’t prove anything. They say, If guys with guns were chasing you through a dark parking lot, wouldn’t you hightail it?

Yeah, maybe, but how many pizza drivers know to slam a truck into reverse, accelerate, then use the handbrake to spin the front end around and get the hell out of Dodge?

It was like the movies. Squeal of tires. Cloud of dust.

Roy finally squeezed off a couple of errant shots. The driver swerved, bounced a curb behind the BTC, flattened a chain link fence, and plowed across an abandoned railyard. Between Third and Seventh, if you’re interested. The kind of place you do a drug deal. The kind of place you dump a body.

Suddenly, sirens and lights. Cop cars swarmed the parking lot.

It’s a white truck! It turned on that street back there! Cough, cough. White truck, black driver!

That last part wasn’t true. I was just trying to get the cops’ attention. They just let the truck get away. Unbe-friggin-lievable.

I kept trying. Hey, I saw them removing ballots! I have evidence!

No one in uniform cared about the pictures on my phone. They were focused on Roy. Hands on the hood. Legs apart.

That got me pissed. What is wrong with you guys? Harmless gunshots, you go code three. Stolen election, you stand around eating donuts.

Ken reeled me in. Careful, man, you told that guy to shoot.

He had a point. I shut my trap and started walking.

I noticed the doughboy sitting up, receiving first aid. I should have gone over and shook his hand. Thank you for your service. But Ken kept me moving in the opposite direction.

6. Alpha Power

Thursday.

I spent the day at work pretending to be productive while wearing out my phone. No one took me seriously. Police, sheriff, nobody. They said no shots were fired. They said the BTC protest was peaceful. You would think I imagined the whole thing.

Homeland Security was creepy. When they demanded my current address and location of birth, I hung up. Probably a mistake. Probably straight to the no-fly list.

The FBI listened politely. They said I needed more proof.

Me? I’m not the one with everybody’s fingerprints and DNA. I don’t sweep up all electronic communication. I don’t have facial recognition technology and eyes in the sky. I mean, what’s the point of a trillion-dollar surveillance state if you can’t track down a bogus pizza trick and ask a few questions.

Ask me, it was willful ignorance. No one wanted to admit an election could be stolen. Especially not those responsible for national security.

I tried the lamestream media. They all said the same thing. Sure, send us your video, we’ll look into it. With the same mocking tone. In other words, Get lost.

I felt like President Trump. Persecuted for challenging the party line. Ridiculed for saying black is white. Like Galileo. Like Jesus.

Gosar’s Facebook page said, THIS ELECTION IS A JOKE! His office didn’t return my calls. His hands are tied, Tom explained. He can’t challenge the vote in Arizona without challenging his own re-election.

Infowars responded with an URGENT WARNING text: Democrats have declared permanent martial law!

That’s the worst kind of fake news. It’s disrespectful. Even with the stolen election, Sleepy Joe and Krazy Kamala have to wait until January 20. Until then, only President Donald J. Trump can declare martial law. Don’t go writing him off early.

A second text from Infowars encouraged me to purchase Super Male Vitality formula. Maybe that would help my cough.

Then I saw something on Twitter. 6K fake Biden votes found in Arizona. Hello!

I knew immediately, six thousand is tip of the iceberg. Biden supposedly got eighty million votes nationwide. Obama barely reached seventy. That means at least ten million fake votes.

The Arizona secretary of state’s explanation, word for word: Unofficial election results were displaying incorrectly briefly today due to an uploading error that posted Greenlee County’s results multiple times while uploading write-in candidate info.

Uploading error? The entire election was an uploading error.

I called her office. They told me no ballots had been removed from the BTC. No ballots had been destroyed. We save them for recounts. But sir, by all means, submit a fraud report on our website.

They wouldn’t let me speak directly to the secretary. Tom told me she’s been getting death threats. I considered making one myself.

Especially after I heard about the Indian ballots. Sixty thousand Navajos voted in Arizona. The big chief said vote for Biden. How is that fair? How is that even legal? How!

I blocked Infowars after a third text recommended Alpha Power with Horny Goat Weed because it’s time to show them what a real male looks like. Believe me, Amy knows what a real male looks like.

Whoever answered at the Republican headquarters said they were aware of concerns at the Tabulation Center. Would you be willing to…?

I cut him off with a question of my own. Is it true that donations are used to pay off campaign debt? Because that’s what I read online. President Trump’s PAC takes sixty percent. Republican National Committee gets forty. The money doesn’t go to save the election. Or is that just more conspiracy theory?

Sir, we’re not told the exact breakdown.

You want an exact breakdown? Try this all morning: Press 1 for English. Your phone call matters. Wait time is thirty minutes. Calls answered in order received. Try our automated system. Call back later. Go to our website. Take a hike.

Stressed out and coughing like a banshee, I started creating a website.

www.azistopthesteal.com

Don’t fight the media. Become the media.

Reader, please, watch the video from the loading dock. Message me if you recognize the Mexican guy. Average height. A little stocky. We find him, we find the boxes.

He speaks with a Spanish accent. Cheel out, bro, eet’s pizza. Probably an illegal.

I don’t work for Arpaio. You probably guessed that. I’m an assistant compliance officer. All day I generate reports that nobody reads. I know it’s absurd. Which is probably why I got triggered. Geet a real jobe.

It’s also why I never filed a complaint with the secretary of state. I know the drill. Submit report. Receive automatic email reply. End of story. Literally. The only place your data can live and breathe is social media.

You a YouTuber or sometheen?

Five million views at least, if my phone hadn’t died. But that’s not the worst of it.

All day at work, I replayed the critical moments. Mexican guy flips me the bird. Driver aims for my knees. I yell at Roy to shoot the tires.

I don’t even know Roy’s real name. But I know the butterfly effect when I see it. If Roy arrives a few seconds sooner. If Roy had worked on his quick-draw. If Roy had taken target practice on something more elusive than a dying saguaro. Any two of those three if’s, and Roy stops that delivery truck in its tracks. Bam!

Stop the truck. Open the boxes. Count all the legal votes. Save our democracy. Change the course of history.

Stop the truck and President Trump takes Arizona and everyone takes his fraud claims seriously. In Georgia. In Pennsylvania. Maybe even Wisconsin. Federal judges find their spines. State legislators reassign the electoral votes.

Shoot out those tires, dude, and we get four more years.

Instead, everyone abandoned President Trump. Couldn’t get their guns unholstered. Couldn’t take the winning shot.

Like those Republicans from the Michigan legislature. The president invited them to the White House. Put them up in his hotel. Someone posted photos of them drinking Dom Perignon. Then they scurried home and did zilch. Those scumbags scammed the president.

How about Governor Ice Cream? The system is strong, he announced. We do elections well here in Arizona.

Well? Well, maybe if you leave out the fake ballots and stolen ballots and bleed-through ballots and Indian ballots and death threats and uploading errors. More like Governor Whipped Cream.

How about all those Republicans who voted for the Libertarian candidate? She stole fifty thousand votes from President Trump in Arizona. Enough to swing the election. Similar deal in Wisconsin and Georgia. Democrats didn’t win. Republicans gave it away.

How about the Georgia secretary of state? Said he’s a Republican. Said he supports President Trump. Said Biden won his state, fair and square. Even after two recounts. Even after Lindsey Graham told him, Look hard and see how many ballots you can throw out.

Lindsey Graham put them all to shame. Everyone knows the senator from South Carolina has no scruples. Everyone knows he stands for nothing except power. Alpha Power. Yet Senator Graham backed the president while those so-called respectable Republicans stood around eating donuts and drinking $600 champagne. Makes my head swim.

7. Notes to SELF

After Thursday.

I shouldn’t be so hard on Roy. It was dark. The truck was zipping left and right. The driver almost lost control.

No, I didn’t imagine it. I don’t care what Phoenix PD says. I saw what I saw. The rear bumper scraped asphalt, sending up sparks. The tailpipe backfired. Roy dove for cover. Find him, he’ll tell you. It wasn’t hallucinations.

I went straight to the loading dock. The door was locked. I knocked. I shouted. I put my ear to the crack and listened. They must think ballot fraud is hilarious, because they were laughing their heads off. Cackling while strangling democracy. Pure evil.

Watch the video on my website.

www.azistopthesteal.com

They laughed when I asked what’s in the boxes. They laughed when the Mexican guy told me to cheel out. Watch carefully, you’ll see. Their faces glow red in the shadows.

The hallucinations were different. I woke up with my head on fire. My third grade teacher was standing over me. She said I was late for school.

Amy says I kept muttering, The circus is in town. Says I vomited all over the kitchen floor.

I could barely sit up on the drive to the emergency room. When my phone rang, it was Rudy Giuliani’s office. President Trump’s lawyer. That’s also according to Amy. She had to answer for me. She told them I would call back in a day or two.

It took over three weeks. Worst three weeks of my life.

I had all the symptoms. High fever. Loss of taste and smell. Loss of consciousness.

Monkeys came by the ICU. So did Geronimo. He took me hiking in the Grand Canyon. Pat Tillman kept yelling, Don’t give up!

Amy was only hospitalized two days. I don’t know how she did it, going home and taking care of herself. Sharon had mild symptoms. Mike had none. Tom said half the office was out sick. Ken miraculously pulled through, thanks to special treatment at the university med school down in Tucson.

The worst part is I failed my country. Flat on my back, not following the boxes.

Other people put boots on the ground, thank God.

A brave couple drove all the way from Georgia to the White House with a loaded machine gun. The DC cops arrested them for supporting the president.

A white-haired patriot almost singlehandedly shut down a counterprotest. Like Chuck Norris fighting gay marriage. There’s a link to the video on my website.

www.azistopthesteal.com

At 2:42, the guy swipes a Black Lives megaphone. He challenges all comers. None of you wanna fuckin’ do that! He spins and probes for weakness. He targets women. Shoves them to the ground. None of you! He turns his back and gets knocked out cold.

Call it a total amateur move, if you like. I call it taking one for the president.

Yes, the president was there. Waving. Smiling. Not hunkered in the basement like Sleepy Joe.

Fake news said less than ten thousand people. The president’s press secretary said more than one million. Here’s a clue: It’s called the Million MAGA March.

I was sucking on a ventilator while one million heroes stood their ground. November 13, if you’re interested.

They could have packed up their flags and guns and gone home. They could have let the blue mirage become water under the bridge.

Worse, they could have turned resentful. They could have complained, We’re marching in the streets, fighting for every vote, while President Trump waves from an armored limousine on his way to the golf course. Chickenshit stuff like that.

They didn’t. They cheered and held up signs and waved right back. We got this, Mr. President. You relax on the fairways. We’ll take it from here.

Meanwhile, my website was lighting up. Thousands of clicks. Seems like everyone in Arizona knows a stocky Mexican with a ballcap.

Even now, I haven’t run down all the leads. I’m doing this solo. Amy’s busy job-hunting. Ken still isn’t breathing right. Tom warned me about improper use of company resources.

The relapse didn’t help. The doctor said I needed more bedrest. Give yourself ample time to recover.

I need to work, Doc. I’ve got bills up the wazoo.

We can treat that.

Seriously, Doc. Cough. I’ve used all my paid sick leave.

Tom told me he would talk to corporate and see what he could do. Meantime, he said, stay home or I’ll fire you.

That left me feet up on the couch, working my contacts. Until Amy got all upset. Stop trying to save President Trump!

I’m trying to save our freedoms, Amy. Cough, cough.

You’re going to kill yourself.

I regret I have but one life to lose for my country. 1776!

She disconnected the wifi and hid my phone.

But I’m a fighter. I rolled up my sleeves and started putting words on paper. When Amy wasn’t looking. The more I wrote, the more I remembered.

A couple in line at the polling station were speaking a language I didn’t recognize.

A dumpster near the funeral home was full of shredded paper.

On election night, fake news was already saying it would drag into election month. How did they know?

When Fox announced Arizona for Biden, the blonde news anchor blinked both eyes twice. Google it.

When I first met Roy, he told me he saw torn-up ballots inside the BTC.

He tried to say more, but the deputy got into his face, Don’t push it, pal.

Like I advise people at work, document everything. The little stuff adds up.

I’ve got more curious coincidences and suspicious facts listed on my website.

www.azistopthesteal.com

Eventually I made it back to work. Full recovery. Except for the hospital bills. If Amy doesn’t corral a paycheck soon, we could lose the house. Especially after Biden raises property taxes.

That’s why I’m still fighting the scumbags. We can do this. Reverse the election. Defeat evil.

I’ve started the Secure Elections Legal Fund. You can donate at my website.

www.azistopthesteal.com

President Trump’s Official Election Defense Fund raked in $200 million in one month. He’s paying Giuliani twenty grand a day to challenge the vote. They’ve lost every case but one. Over forty losses. Do you want to donate to that?

I’ve got hard evidence. I’ve got a plan. Find the stocky Mexican and the getaway driver, give them immunity, let them point fingers. The Arizona attorney general has already agreed. We need to nail the guys at the top.

I’ve left several messages with Giuliani’s office. Give me one hundred grand, Rudy, I can get you Arizona.

I don’t like to ask for money. I know Amy and I are aren’t the only ones in a hole. I just need temporary help until Giuliani comes through. Then I’ll refund all donations made to my Secure Elections Legal Fund. SELF, for short.

www.azistopthesteal.com

Reader, don’t think of me as a hero. I’m only doing what President Trump would do.

I want to build that wall.

I want to keep America great again.

Most of all, I want to erase a haunting image from my mind. Brake lights burning through the dust. Brake lights like the devil’s own eyes. They blink twice as the delivery truck turns north from the abandoned railyard onto Seventh Avenue, taking the corpse of American democracy to an unmarked grave.

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Timothy Braatz is a novelist, playwright, and professor of history and nonviolence at Saddleback College. His nonfiction includes Peace Lessons and From Ghetto to Death Camp: A Memoir of Privilege and Luck.