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June 23rd, 2019

Multnomah County Courthouse

Portland, OR

A few hours later Tate was out finally booked and released and was walking down the court steps hopefully towards a ride that was supposed to be there when he got out. The wait had taken longer than usual, according to a chatty fellow he’d had the misfortune of being sat next to in the waiting area, and by the time he got out he was hoping that he could just go home and forget about all this until the court date. Thankfully since he had no priors he’d been booked and released with a promise to appear in court in two weeks to stand before a judge. But the charges that the woman he’d supposedly assaulted were already being circulated and since no one else had come forward with any witnesses to the crime he was the only one currently on the hook for anything.

Walking out of the courthouse should have been easy enough, but as he took the first few steps his aching head was only made worse by a sudden shriek that had him wincing as he stopped in his tracks, looking further down the steps as he closed his eyes and groaned.

“That’s the guy! They let him out after he raped someone! The police are colluding with rapists! A-C-A-B, All Cops Are Bastards!”

The last chant was taken up suddenly and with great fervor as Tate tried to look beyond the small mob that had gathered on the steps, no doubt triggered by the fact that there were camcorders and phones galore wherever people congregated these days. And yet for some reason no one had been pointing one in the direction of a young woman getting beaten, leaving him shit out of luck for the time being.

He took a breath as he dared to make his way down the steps, hoping to just push through, but as he reached the front line he saw that not only had a few protesters made it out to welcome him, but several of them were dressed head to toe in black, with dark glasses and bandanas tied over the lower half of their faces. Antifa, swell. Now all he needed was a few Pride Boys to come tromping around and they’d have a full dance card.

“How’s it feel to rape a woman you sick prick?!” shouted someone on the front line. He didn’t bother to answer as he tried to move to the left, only to find that the mob was going to move in front of him. He tried to move to the right and had just as little luck.

“Rapists don’t have freedoms in this country! You need to go back in there and rot!”

He wasn’t ready to start swinging just yet, but as he looked past the milling crowd he could finally see the car he’d been hoping for as it pulled up to the curb, and was almost immediately surrounded by Antifa members and protesters.

(to be continued)

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