When he died, Grant and Jason’s father had two requests. First, to always stay in each other’s lives. Second, bring an end to his worst mistake: Draco Night.
Unfortunately, the brothers’ differences on how to accomplish number 2, greatly impaired number 1.
Grant had become a senator like their father, striving to end the “holiday” where every crime, no matter how small, was a death penalty offense. He may not have gotten it completely repealed—yet–but he at least made his follow politicians put their money where their mouth is, stripping them of their exemption, albeit with a less harsh punishment.
Jason had taken a different approach, falling in with every anti-Draco Night group he could find. At first it was just protest, rallies. Then the rallies started getting out of hand. Then Grant started to have to bail Jason out of jail for everything from vandalism to inciting a riot.
And they got into a fight at Thanksgiving. A fight that ended in Grant taking a punch to the face. Then Jason stopped answering his calls. It had been a year since the brothers had spoken.
All that changed two hours before Draco Night. Grant was in his office working on some last-minute things, when his sectary, a bone-thin young woman by the name of Jeanie walked up to him with a stack of papers in her hand. “Here are the crime statistics you wanted, sir.”
“Thank you, Jeanie.” He gave her a tired smile, “I suggest you head home before—” His voice trailed off. He didn’t have to say it.
“You, too sir.” Jeanie agreed, “Please.”
“Don’t worry, I promise, I’ll be leaving soon.” Grant assured her.
Jeanie began to leave, then turned back to look at him, her face creased with worry.
“Did I ever tell you it all started as a joke, Jeanie?” Tyler asked almost absent-mindedly, lost in a maze of numbers.
Jeanie turned back around. “Sir?”
“The Draco Deterrent Bill,” Grant elaborated, “When my dad got a couple of whiskeys sours in him, he would always tell how when congress was trying to come to an agreement about how to stop the crime epidemic, someone brought up the idea of using capital punishment for all crimes one night a year as a joke. Like the inverse of those movies that were popular at the time, you know? When things dragged on and they couldn’t reach any sort of consensus, much less an actual plan, it became the serious suggestion.”
Jeanie’s eye momentarily widened, an eyebrow raised, as if this was all-new information to her. And it probably was. The creation of Draco Night was one of those periods that got glossed over in school.
“Each side thought the other would back down and come to a compromise.” Grant continued. Looking at the statistics for a moment, then back at her, “Well, obviously that didn’t happen, or neither of us would be here, right now.”
“And no one’s laughing now.” Jeanie added soberly.
“No.” Grant replied ruefully, “No, they’re not.”
Jeanie turned again as if to go, then turned back, as if some internal force was keeping her there. “I don’t think I ever told you this, but I had a friend die on the wall. The warning whistle had gone off, she was coming back from work, and ran a redlight. She didn’t mean to, she thought she had more time…” She swallowed, trying to keep her emotions in check, “And this was the year of the first Draco Patrols…”
Grant nodded. He knew this story by heart. If it wasn’t the red light, it was the stop sign, or the parking meter left a little too long. An appalling amount of Draco Night Fatalities were caused by moving or parking violations.
“You know, she was nanny.” Jeanie said bitterly, “Worked in the suburbs, that’s where she was coming from when they caught her. Sometimes I wonder how many Draco Patrols were in that neighborhood.
Probably not many. Grant thought sadly. He looked through the numbers of assigned Draco Patrols, extra police employed speficly to look for offenders on Draco Night, and most of them congregated in poorer neighborhoods and even rural aeras. In fact, now that he thought of it, he didn’t think he had never even seen a Draco Patrol car until his father had took them down to the depot.
Take a good look, boys. For too many people this is the beginning of their worst nightmare come true. This is one consequence of a bad idea.
His father was always saying things like that. Grant thought he had wanted to drive home the idea to them that ideas and actions didn’t happen in vacuum. There were always going to be consequences for someone.
And if you were like Steven Willis, those consequences haunted you until your dying day.
“You have somewhere safe to stay tonight, Jeanie?” Grant asked.
“My place is just a few blocks away.” Jeanie assured him, “If I catch the bus, I should be able to make it before the whistle blows.” After a beat, she assured him, “I’ll be sure to let you know I get there safe.”
“Thank you.” Grant replied.
“Just keep yourself safe, too.” Jeanie said, “You know a lot of people would love to see you tied to that pillory. Especially the pro-Draco Night crowd.”
Grant scoffed. “Wouldn’t that be fitting, the author of the Equal Justice Act the first one caned?” After a beat he said, “Good night, Jeanie.”
“Goodnight, sir.” Jeanie replied before hurrying off, presumably to catch the bus.
Satisfied that Jeanie would be safely inside and smart enough not to make any noise, Grant went back to reading his statistics. The young woman wasn’t wrong. They had a whole box of Draco Night related hate mail and even death threats, most from people who were under the impression the patrols were scooping up pedophiles and murders and Grant must be pro-crime to abolish Draco Night. In truth, except for a few who were either too vicious or too dumb to wait, most of the victims were like Jeanie’s friend, working class stiffs that couldn’t afford to take off and accidentally jaywalked.
But somewhere there was proof. Somewhere there was enough evidence to force people to demand change. Force his colleges to act.
Why do you think it’ll be enough this time? A hateful voice scoffed at the back of his mind. Heartbroken testimony from surviving family members hadn’t been enough. Phycology reports about the rise in PTSD over the last decade hadn’t been enough. Statistic on the actual crimes people were being executed for hadn’t been. Why would the statistics for the rest of the year change his colleges’ minds?
Grant was looking at the robbery stats when his phone rang. Shanking his head with an indulgent smile, thinking it was Jeanie reminding him to go home, he picked it up and found to his shock, a text with Jason’s name attached. Panicked shot through him when he read what the text said: Please stop him.
With a newfound since of urgency, Grant put his finger to the phone, activating it and hitting the text icon. Under the message was some sort of video, of man in his mid-twenties with long, dark brown hair.
Grant recognized his brother almost immediately.
Oh Jason, what have you done? Grant wondered, a knot already in his stomach as he hit play.
#
“My name is Jason Willis, brother of United State’s Senator Grant Willis, our father was the late Senator Steven Willis, and by the time anyone sees this I will be dead.” Jason began.
Grant’s heart fell into his stomach.
“For over a decade, hundreds of innocent people have been executed for going over the speed limits, crossing against the light, littering.” Jason continued, staring intently into the camera. “While the ruling class are protected from their own patrols due to the immune status, they granted themselves. My brother has made aims to repeal that immunity, but Senate, Congress, they don’t still feel what they’ve done. This Draco Night, that ends.”
What does that mean?! Grant thought, his mind racing with panic. Was his baby brother going to hurt somebody? Had he already hurt somebody?
“For the run of this year’s Draco Night, every hour on the hour, a relative of a government official under the protected status will commit a moving or walking violation, in full view of Draco Patrols. Including me. They never granted us immunity. “
It all horribly clicked together in Grant’s head.
“Which means at the end of the night, we will all be executed by firing squad. Hopefully knowing what hundreds of families go through every year will cause them to finally end the madness.” Jason continued, “To my brother, Grant, I know you tried. This is just the way it has to be.”
The video ended and Grant just stood there in shock for a few minutes. Then he bolted for the door.
#
He drove for over an hour with the phone to his ear. First, calling every member of the senate and the house and any official he had a number for, trying to warn them, telling them to check with their relatives. And for pity’s sake, be discreet so these kids didn’t get charged with treason, especially on tonight of all nights. Then, to his brother, to no avail. “Come on Jason, pick up, please pick up.”
He parked crookedly in the parking lot of Jason’s apartment, just as a long, shrill whistle ripped through the air, sending his blood cold.
It was the whistle that began Draco Night. For the next twelve hours, all crime would be punishable by death.
He didn’t have much time left.
#
After a fitful ride up the elevator ride, he was at his brother’s door, banging on it. “Jason! Jason! Jason, let me in, we need to talk! Jas—”
“Hey!” A hoarse voice called out from behind one of the other apartment doors, “Quit that racket or I’ll call the cops!”
It took a moment for Grant to process what he just heard. “Ma’am, do you know what tonight is?!”
“Yes, so?”
Before the exchange could go any further, a new voice said. “He’s not in there.”
Grant turned around to see a frighteningly skinny, mousey brunette, her hair cut short and choppy, and her clothing dark and strategically ripped.
“Who are you supposed to be?” Gran balked.
“My name’s Natalie.” She said urgently, “And we’ve never met, but I’m Jason’s girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend, as of a few days ago.”
It all clicked again. “You’re the one who sent me the video.”
“Maybe this is a conversation we better have inside.” Natalie pointed out, her eyes darting around.
“That’s it!” The hoarse woman’s voice shrilled out, “I’m calling the police!”
“Right.” Grant agreed, thumbling with his keys. Even after their falling out, he still had keys to Jason’s place.
When he stepped inside, he found the place ransacked, papers everywhere, an old leather sofa turned over.
“When I found his phone, what was on it, I started searching for any clue to where he went.” Natalie explained.
“You flipped over a couch by yourself?” Grant questioned in astonishment, then remembered why they were there. “Okay, you need to tell me what’s going on before the cops get here.”
Jason had met Natalie at an Abolish Draco Night rally a year before. Things started getting rocky between the young couple when Jason became involved with fanatics calling for extreme action online.
“He’s always been passionate about the cause.” Natalie continued, “It was one of the things that drew me to him. But once he hooked up with these guys—he became a different person. A scary person.”
“It started before then.” Grant told her, “Last time I saw him we got into a fight over methods of resistance– he thought I had gone native, I thought he was going to get himself killed-anyway, he took a swing at me. At Thanksgiving.”
Natalie cringed. “There was this one guy, goes by Robespierre of all things. I don’t know who he really is, or anything about him, really. But he would rant on his blog that the only way the government would end Draco Night was if they ‘felt it firsthand.’ “
“So, you think he’s behind all this?” Grant asked.
“Jason stopped showing me Robespierre’s diatribes, because he knew how I felt about them.” Natalie admitted, “But I wouldn’t be surprised. A week ago, he broke up with me, told me his life was about to be worthless. Obviously, I found that…alarming. I kept trying to reach out, but he cut me off. Then I came here and found his phone and that video.” After a beat she asked, “Do you have any idea where he would’ve gone to do this?”
Grant looked around the room, racking his brain, when his eyes landed on a silver-framed picture of them in happier times, Grant was maybe ten, which would have put Jason at about five, with their father at a local park. “I think I know.”
#
They pulled up into the parking lot, very carefully, avoiding anything with a sign in front of it. “Why do you think he would do it here?” Natalie questioned.
“Dad used to take us here almost every weekend without fail.” Grant explained, pointing out a set of monkey bars, “Jason, he, he would spend all days on those monkey bars.”
Despite the grave situation, Natalie couldn’t help but smile at whatever picture her brain had conjured up.
“And there’s a traffic light over there that changes too fast.” Grant continued, pointing it out, “Dad was complaining about it to anyone who could get it fixed. Never did any good.”
Just then a dark and gold Draco Night patrol car came by. Natalie ducked down, breathing so fast she was close to hyperventilating.
“It’s alright.” Grant urged gently, putting what he hoped was reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder, “We’re not breaking any laws, we’re not doing anything suspicious.”
“That’s what my dad thought before he went to the wall for littering.” Natalie hissed, “He had just come off an eight-hour night shift, he was exhausted, and missed a stupid trashcan. He didn’t even see it, how did they? What were they even doing out in the middle of the boonies in the first place?”
No matter how many times he heard stories like this, it would never stop breaking Grant’s heart. “I’m so sorry. Truly I am. This day…it never should’ve happened.”
Grant closed his eyes for a minute, spent. He wasn’t sure how many more stories like that he could take. How many more people he would sit with as they franticly called their loved ones and scrolled through social media to see who made it through the night. How many more parents he could take coming to him for help the morning after because their just- turned- eighteen child never came home from working at the local barn. How many more of them he could hold as they screamed over that child’s corpse. How many more clam but semi-coherent filibusters from his opponents he could stomach.
That was when he felt Natalie shaking his shoulder. “Hey, look.”
A familiar gray sedan had pulled up across the street from them. “Come on.” Grant said, getting out of the car.
Being careful not to run in the wrong places, they rushed over to the sedan where Jason was sitting behind the when stone-faced. Desperate, they both started down pounding on the window. “Jason!” Grant shouted.
“Jason, open up.” Natalie requested.
Jason wouldn’t even look at him, his eyes scanning for just the right time.
“Jason, open this door!” Grant screamed.
“Baby, don’t do this, please!” Natalie pleaded, his voice on the edge of tears.
The light turned red just as a Draco patrol rounded the corner.
“Oh, Lord, please no.” Natalie broke down, crying.
They couldn’t lose him. Neither of them could.
They might not be close anymore, clearly, but Grant still knew one bad habit of his brother’s: Leaving his car door unlocked. Almost without thinking, Grant thrust the door open, pulling his little brother out and jumping in, slamming the door. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands on the wheel and hit the accelerator.
It took all of a few seconds, but between breaking the speed limit, running the red light, and not wearing a seatbelt, it was only a matter of seconds before he heard the patrol sirens.
Grant pulled over, and almost instantly the door was thrust opened, a pair of thick hands grabbing him and gruff voice demanding, “Identify yourself!”
“Grant, no!” Jason called out, horrified.
“Baby, no, we can’t help him,” Natalie warned dragging him away as Grant was cuffed and roughly shoved into the back of the patrol car, “He’s a Senator, they won’t kill him.”
#
Like everyone else on Draco Night, Senator Grant Willis was put through a sham trail that barely lasted half an hour. Then he spent the rest of the night in an inhospitable cell that probably wasn’t constitutional—but then again, neither was Draco Night.
The sun momentarily blinded Grant as he was led out to platform with a tall wooden pole attached with two long leather straps. It had been constructed after government officials had been stripped of their protected status.
Grant really thought he had been joking about being the first be tied to it.
He didn’t fight as the guards stripped him of his shirt before, turning his around and tying his wrist in the straps, so tight they cut into his wrist painfully. All he could hear was his own heartbeat throbbing in his ear, so he missed the whistle that that signaled the penultimate act of Draco Night
However, no one else did and a crowd began to gather around the pillory. Some couldn’t get in touch with loved ones and they’d find them when the condemned were trotted out. Others were true believers wanting to see what they believed was justice. Others still were dark, sadistic souls that wanted to enjoy the show. There were even some that had heard a senator had just got caught in his own trap, wanted to have a little Roman Holiday.
Among them was a young man with stringy dark hair, and his girlfriend who was barely holding him back.
“I can’t let him do this.” Jason protested, trying to pull himself from Natalie’s grasp, “This is my fault, I have to stop ‘em—”
“Jason, no.” Natalie urged mournfully, “Even if you could get through, they’d do it anyway, and cook up some punishment for you too. Do you want Grant to go through this for nothing?”
Jason stared ahead at his brother, tied to a post, his back exposed to the crowd. “If I knew it would come to this, I would never—I-I-“
Just then a dark-dressed Draco Patrolman stepped up to the pillory reading from a paper. “Grant Steven Willis has been found guilty of running a red light, speeding, and driving without a seatbelt. The sentence for this, on Draco Night, for members of senate, is a caning of thirteen strokes. May this serve as an example to anyone who thinks they can escape justice. Regardless of rank.”
He has guts to work that last bit in. Grant thought as his body tensed with apprehension and fear, I’ll give him that.
Another patrolman stepped forward, this time holding a long, rattan cane in his hand. He whipped it through the air with a sharp crack. Then he started towards Grant dramatically.
Grant took a deep breath then exhaled slowly bracing for the pain to come.
That was when the first sting of the cane hit his back.
The scream that came was involuntary, but it was loud. With the second blow, the first humiliating tears sprung into his eyes.
“Grant!” Jason cried out, Natalie holding him back.
One blow came down, then another. Grant gritted his teeth, trying to keep from showing his pain again. This worked for the fifth, sixth, and seventh blows. By the eight, Grant’s jaw and teeth were starting to hurt.
As the nineth sent the ripping pain of breaking epidermis to the skin of his back, he could hold it back no longer, letting out a ragged scream that melted into a sob.
As he watched his big brother pass out, his back stripped red, Jason went to his knees. How could he let this happen?
How could he not see how much his brother loved him?
#
When Grant awoke, the world was burry and white. His ears were throbbing as was his head. Where—
“I think he’s up.” An oddly familiar female voice said, though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly where he had heard it before.
That was when it all came flooding back. Jason’s attempt at suicide by Draco Night, Natalie, the agony of the caning. “I’d figure I’d be in a lot more pain than I am.” He grumbled, barely audible.
“They gave you a lot of strong pain meds.” Jason informed him, his voice shaking.
“What about the others in the pact?” Grant asked, looking up, everything around him still blurry.
“Most of their families were able to get to them in time.” Natalie answered.
Most. The words rang out in Grant’s head. Most, but not all. Even more lives had been lost to this gruesome insanity.
As if on cue, he heard a man’s voice from somewhere saying with grief and vigor, “If any other country executed its citizens for non-violent offenses, we’d call them repugnant, and we’d be right to do so…”
“Turn that off, Nat, please.” Jason said, his voice sounding like he was on the edge of tears.
However, that was when Grant realized something. “Is that Charles Hobbs?” That particular fellow senator was the last one Grant would except to call for the abolishment of Draco Night. Every time Grant would bring regulation to the floor, Charles would lunch into one of those filibusters about an extreme of force being necessary.
“His daughter went to the wall last night in Oregon.” Natalie explained, soberly, “Ran a stop sign, I think.”
A wave of sorrow and pity washed over Grant. That girl had been Charles’ world. She had her whole future ahead of her. As much as he hated himself for it, the thought crossed his mind, I guess it’s different when you’re the one affected.
He didn’t have much time to scold himself for it, as that was when Jason broke out sobbing. “Oh, Grant. I’m sorry. I nearly destroyed both of us. If I thought—if—oh, I am so sorry-just so sorry—”
“Hey,” Grant whispered, taking Jason’s hand, “Look at me, okay?”
Jason did, even though it hurt. He imagined it was much worse for Grant.
“You’re my brother, okay?” Grant declared, “I’ll always forgive you.”
Even though they knew they had a long away to go, both brothers couldn’t help but think that maybe something good would spring from the ordeal they just endured together. Maybe they could work together on this, finally.
Maybe one day they could rest.