“OK, we’ve got good news and bad news,” Robbins said.
“Let’s hear all of it.”
“Howie?”
Howie took over. “The short answer is that we can do it. We can tell you who’s watching a particular show at a particular time, in the moment. We can’t do it in exactly the target area you’re talking about, our range is going to be a little wider, but we can do it.”
“And the bad news?”
“Two things. One is that a home will be recorded on the list as long as it’s on at any moment within the fifteen-minute time frame. So if they scroll through it, it’ll be there. That will increase the number of homes and the size of the list.”
“What’s the other thing?” I asked.
“We have no way of cross-checking the lists by computer; it will have to be manual.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Julie asked.
“Well, put it this way. We can print out a list of everyone watching ESPN from eleven to eleven fifteen. Then we can print out a list of everyone watching CNN from eleven fifteen to eleven thirty. But we can’t tell you, or at least our computers can’t tell you, who is on both lists.”
“Can you separate the lists by area?”
He nodded. “Yes, by zip code.”
I nodded. “Good. So we’ll each take different lists, and go over it by hand. We’ll get it done,” I said, though I had no idea if we could, since I had no idea how many lists there would be, what form they would take, or how many names would be on them.
I asked Robbins, “You have people that can help?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Only those you can trust completely, that you don’t think will be careless and miss anything.”
“I understand.”
“Good,” I said. “I’ll tell Bryan we’re a go.”
Bryan,
At eleven o’clock, turn on channel 318, at eleven fifteen, turn on channel 319. At eleven thirty, move to the next channel in order. If it skips numbers, that’s fine, just make sure it’s the next channel.
Any problem, let me know immediately.
Lucas,
Got your e-mail, and I’ll do exactly what you say.
I’ll let you know if there’s a problem, but please, you do the same. I only have hours left, and I’m not sure how many.
4 % on the computer.
Hurry.
Edward Holland was frustrated and angry.
The District Court had declined to provide a court order removing the protesters, choosing to give them more time to respond to Holland’s motion. That effectively removed the possibility, for the time being, of state or Federal intervention.
The murder of Richard Carlton was announced after the court issued its ruling, and there was no way they would reconsider before Monday.
Monday wasn’t good enough.
It was an uncomfortable position for Holland to be in. He had been the champion of the people he represented, and now he was at least temporarily on the other side. But he was positive that more violence was on the way, and he had to do whatever he could to prevent additional loss of life.
To that end, he again called Brayton’s police chief, Tony Brus. “What have you got on the Carlton murder?” he asked.
“He took three bullets in the back from ten feet. No witnesses. Also had a broken arm that happened premortem. Coroner won’t know for sure until the autopsy, but his guess is the arm happened within minutes of the shooting. Different gun killed Rhodes.”
“Anything that might lead you to the killer?” he asked.
“Hard to say. We took prints, but no results yet. But this was not an amateur job.”
“We’ve got to act,” Holland said.
“I’m acting,” Brus said, annoyed at the implication. “I’ve got every officer working fourteen-hour days. You want more action, get me more people.”
“I want the protesters removed from the mining site.”
Brus was tired of dealing with this asshole, especially since he was more and more inclined to run against him in the next election. “Mayor, I was just there. Everybody is calm; they’re barbequing and throwing Frisbees, for Christ sake.”
“People are getting blown up and shot in the parking lot.”
“I’ve told you, the violence is being committed by outsiders. I don’t know who, but there’s no way the people camping out on that land are killing people.”
“I don’t want anyone killed. By anyone. I want them gone before dark tonight,” Holland said.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Your point of view is noted. Now I’m the Mayor, and I want them out. Bring tear gas, hoses, whatever the hell you need, but get them out.”
Brus was furious, but maintained control. “It will take me a while to put the operation together.”
“Do it,” Holland said, and hung up.
Brus hung up the phone with one thought on his mind. He would do his job, but there was no way he was teargassing his friends. And whatever he did, he would make Mayor Holland look bad in the process.
The day was already a month long, with no sign of ending any time soon.
At least that’s what it felt like, waiting for Howie and Sarah to set up the machines that would start monitoring TV viewership throughout northwest New Jersey.