A Barbarian in Chicago- Wulf!

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Chapter 23: Nora Disapproves

This whole incident of her so-called grandson appearing unwanted in her life had upset Nora greatly! She had heard of Wulf being arrested, why who hadn’t at this point? ’The Worst Hate Crime Ever!” had been the headline in the Chicago Tribune, and the New York Times was running a series of articles about the resurgence of white racism, with the proud oh-so-white caucasian face of Wulf Gott staring off the pages.

The worst part for Nora was that first day after Wulf had been incarcerated into the general jail population. It was only much later when it came out that he had been thrown into that population manacled hand and foot, as if immobilized for slaughter! ’Why, oh why hadn’t it worked,’ she thought to herself. ‘How could he have managed to survive that night, against all expectations and odds?’ It galled her no end.

Wes Parker, that annoying Chicago University policeman, had called her that morning. “I don’t know if you really have any interest, seeing how you’ve treated your own flesh and blood,” he said with thinly veiled contempt, “but I will tell you this- he is alive, and actually quite well!” He went on to explain how her grandson had been put into the jail population, manacled, and had managed not only to survive the night relatively unscathed, but had actually caused such mayhem on his attackers that the ones he had not maimed or injured had retreated to the far corner of the cell until dawn!

When Wes had come to the Cook County Corrections building the next morning, it had been with a heavy heart. He had small hope of the muscular youth surviving that night, manacled and locked in a cage with violent, universally white-hating black criminals.

He already had great respect for the physical prowess of Wulf, but he was amazed to see him sitting in a private cell, guzzling coffee! Wulf looked up at him, and smiled broadly. When Wes asked him what had happened, he flexed his mighty, now unmanacled arms, and held them together as if cuffed.

“Two fists at once do more that one!” was all he said.

Detective Antigone Gibbons was a little more colorful. “That m—f—white boy!” was all he would say to Wes. “But I’ll see him fry, yes sir, he gonna pay!” He would almost sputter as he spoke, so consuming was his frustrated rage.

Wulf had seen a court appointed lawyer, and had been told there was little hope. He seemed content with Wes, though, and brightened greatly when Trina and Jafiro came to visit him later that day. Everyone seemed depressed except Wulf. He did ask for some books from Trina, and was showing isometric exercises he could do using the bars of his cell to Jafiro. Jafiro eagerly tried them out himself, saying “Me- Ah’m gonna get me as strong as yo be, Wulf!”

Even Gabe Hokulani from Gabe’s Grub came to visit the youth, carrying a box full of jars. Laying them down, he smiled widely at the youth behind bars. “Ah wanna bring nourishment to ya, I do! Ya mus’ keep up ya strength, hey?” He started handing the many jars, brimming with green nutrition from his blender, through the bars one after another into the large youths hands. “Them blacks,” he said sourly, “they do what they wanna, and no one stop ’em- ’cept you! They attack and rob Asians, Indians, and even Hawaiians- they no special folk- no way- they too needa’ PAY!” He grinned widely at his rhyme, and actually repeated it in delight. Wulf smiled his thanks, and guzzled from one of the green jars happily.

Wes told Wulf that he had spoken at length with his lawyer, and advised him to try to not worry. “We will fight this thing- the corruption is bad in this city, but right wins in the end,” he said. He sounded doubtful himself.

Worrying actually seemed to be foreign to the hulking youth’s very nature. A lion in a cage paces to keep up its strength, and saves its energy for the future; it does not worry and fret. And so it was also with Wulf! He might be a caged lion- but still a lion.

Detective Gibbons had taken a personal affront to Wulf, and would come to the cell often, literally to taunt him.

“You ain’t gonna survive, cracker!” he would say. “The black man, he owns this city now, and you better know it!” Wulf would glare at him calmly, and invite him within the bars of his cell. Gibbons would just back further away, mouthing obscenities. He spent much of his days now being interviewed by reporters of various media, television, radio, magazines and newspapers. The gist of these interviews was spun by him to show off his own anti-racist agenda, and the utter evil of the imprisoned youth.

“I know that the black officer who was shot has recovered, and insists that this white Wulf Gott was not the one to shoot him. I believe he is confused because of the violence of the attack, and that this white monster actually killed not only the two innocent young boys, (both were in their twenties), but tried to kill this policeman as well- and just because they were black! We blacks (Detective Gibbons was just a light yellow, but loved to call himself black, as if at least half of his blood wasn’t white), well, we have been discriminated against forever in this racist, evil country. Otherwise, we would be rich and successful; and obviously most of us are not. (He smiled at this point, to show that he, Antigone Gibbons, was an exception to this rule). It’s people like this Wulf character that are just bitter clingers, trying to hang onto their old ways, using racism and violence just like they did in the past to keep the black man down. I will see him executed if it is the last thing that I do!”

The firestorm of outrage over this “triple murder” as it was referred to in the press got the trial put on the fast track in the otherwise glacially slow court system of Illinois and especially the Cook County courts. Wolf’s trial was set up to being in just a few weeks. Black protesters swarmed the streets of their own neighborhoods, burning and looting as their way of showing their outrage. Hyde Park and the surroundings were made much worse even than usual in the process, as crime swelled and ravaged the black neighborhoods by their own population!

Nora Gott, the unnatural grandmother of Wulf Gott, spearheaded protests on her own against her own grandson. Gathering together her liberal university of Chicago friends and professors, along with students and also just angry blacks from the tenements on the South and West sides of Chicago, she would march them right outside the Cook County Corrections building. Taking up a megaphone, she would rail against her grandson, pleading for the death penalty!

“I apologize to black America, and minorities everywhere, for the evil that is the white male!” was her signature opening statement. “This monster, this Wulf Gott, who bears my name to my despair, needs to be put to death. I know, many of us have always been against the death penalty, and still are, but I believe that any white person who harms a black one deserves to die. Because white males, in particular, are all racist, and their death is the only solution in civilized society!” Nora would shake in anger, and secretly loved the publicity and the notoriety as a wonderful liberal she was getting. She was even starting to believe that maybe it had been lucky that her grandson had come to live with her… briefly!

She had a long speech and deposition planned for the upcoming court date that she planned to read, denouncing her grandson, and asking for his execution. She could just imagine herself on television worldwide, selflessly asking for the death of her racist grandson. She would be a famous, liberal icon! Actually, she could hardly wait.

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