“The guides carry shotguns with triple 000 buckshot, very lethal at close range, grizzly bear are protected, it would be easier to murder one of my hunters than kill a sacred bear. Do Not, I repeat, Do Not try to take away the bull elk your hunter has shot the night before and was to dark to properly quarter the animal. Bears hear the gunshots and since they are protected it's like ringing the dinner bell, they know there is fresh meat on the ground. I say let the bastard have the meat. We will claim the antlers later. You become very skilled at tearing an elk down to load on the pack horses when a grizzly is popping his jaws just inside the tree line. My personal best was 20 minutes…”
Ishmael is a reader who lives and hunts in the Rocky Mountains. He has been helping me with background material for a mountain main story. The funny thing is—and he has pointed this out—he has basically described a trip to the liquor store in West Baltimore, only the sacred, vicious, brown, protected predator is a two-leg, not a four-leg, as Black Elk would have said.
Now, if bears could figure out over a few generations that they are protected by the federal government, how long do you think it would take an urban youth who dreams of thugdom with his every rapping breath, to figure out that he now has the social status and legal leverage of the Baltimore Cops that held this city down with a reign of terror for 30 years?
The answer is, less than a week.
Since the riots working blacks have been staying away from work in droves—hundreds having lost their jobs and thousand having had hours cut due to the economic impact of the riots and purge—afraid of the new lords of the city, of what they will do with the power the police once had.
City homicides are up from 69 in 2014 to 96 during the same period this year.
West Baltimore has hosted 20 homicides so far this year, to 21 in all of last year.
We have had our 164th nonfatal shooting, up 60% from last year, while fatal shootings are only up 40%, which means turf wars with new unseasoned players in the line of fire.
In a blink of the media’s disturbing eye Baltimore went back to the gory days of 1995, 20 years ago, when the drug gangs were taking over Baltimore and 1,000 homeowners per month fled the city. The salient difference is that Baltimore was then bringing in a hard ass New York cop to address the issues, where we now have a waffling bimbo mayor pulling the rug out from under her Uncle Tom police chief, and the police in full retreat, denying that they have any duty to protect anyone other than themselves—and who can blame them? A beaten force rarely takes time to save refugees as they retreat.
The days that made Baltimore worth writing about have returned, only my family is all now safely ensconced in the suburbs whence I evacuated them during the last race purge. Now I have a ringside seat, and a brawl is breaking out. We had three shootings last night and things are just beginning to get hot in the city.
I have long been critical of the war on drugs, as this federal initiative, enforced by local proxy police, has created a hardened and resourceful criminal class numbering between 2,000 and 5,000 strong in Baltimore. Once created by the oppressive campaign of police terror this many headed monster could only be made worse by one action, by calling back the police, by gutting BPD morale. This reminds me of another unjust, mismanaged, and gracelessly ended war, Vietnam, with the people of Baltimore now in the same position after the riots as the South Vietnamese were after that last U.S. helicopter got shoved into the sea.
I recall last year seeing a documentary about the reintroduction of wolves to Yellow Stone Park, and how they were wiping out the coyotes that had taken over their niche, with nary a Winchester packing human to keep them in check. Well, now that the BPD has stood down, and is no longer pulling security for weaker drug gangs, the stronger drug gangs who have felt the brunt of the BPD iron heel are coming back with a vengeance, a protected, sacred predator species reclaiming its place at the apex of the food chain.
It’s a good day to be writer in Baltimore.