#Judge Advocates General Corps

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Joyce Vance at Civil Discourse:

Friday night, the head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (who is black) and the Navy's top admiral (who is female) were fired, along with the most senior Judge Advocates General (JAGS) for the Army, Navy, and Air Force.

Air Force Gen. Charles Q. Brown Jr., the African American chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and an advocate of anti-racism training in the armed forces, has been replaced by Dan “Razin’” Caine. Caine is a retired Air Force lieutenant general, with none of the traditional qualifications for this position and whose return to active duty from retirement will require a legal exemption. Trump made it clear that Caine possessed the key quality he looks for in all of his top-level appointees: personal loyalty. In announcing the selection he recounted the story of meeting Caine in 2018, when Caine supposedly said, “‘I love you, sir. I think you’re great, sir. I’ll kill for you, sir.” Trump claims he then put on a Make America Great Again hat. Laughing, Trump said, “You’re not allowed to do that, but they did it.” It forces the question: Is Donald Trump trying to turn the military into a political weapon, just like he’s trying, and at least partially succeeding, in doing at the Justice Department? The Founding Fathers created a military with civilian leadership to minimize the prospect of a takeover by a military strongman. The principle of civilian leadership of the military is so deeply ingrained in Western democracies that it’s a requirement for inclusion in NATO.

[...] And that’s the heart of it, why dismiss them? Why on a Friday night? Why so many all and once? And why the Judge Advocates General? Members of the Judge Advocates General Corps, for instance, respond to legal questions about rules of engagement, targeting, intelligence law, and detainee operations. They are military lawyers whose core functions involve military justice and law of war. They offer advice on questions including what constitutes an illegal order, what is a war crime, what is a constitutional violation. Replacing their leadership with Trump loyalists could have serious implications for how the military reacts in a number of situations, including assisting with mass deportations and policing protests, which they are currently prohibited from doing by the Posse Comitatus Act. Members of the military take an oath to the Constitution, not a loyalty oath to the president. The idea of loyalty to the Constitution is deeply ingrained in the officer corps and among senior enlisted soldiers. But principles can be undercut, and the concern is that is what Trump and Hegseth are putting into motion.

Hegseth is now making good on the opinions that likely got him the job in the first place. On November 7, 2024, in a podcast interview, he said, “First of all, you got to fire the chairman [of the] Joint Chiefs. But any general that was involved—general, admiral, whatever—… in any of the DEI woke shit has got to go.” Hegseth criticized chief of naval operations Adm. Lisa Franchetti, the first woman to serve as the Navy’s top combat officer, in his 2024 book, where he dismissed her as “another inexperienced first.” Hegseth’s baseless insistence that Black people and women can only achieve high rank by scoring what he characterizes as “DEI points” is despicable. And it’s belied by the fact, that Brown and Franchetti both have military experience that far exceeds Hegseth’s. They also have demonstrated commitment to the Constitution and our national security.

The Trump/Hegseth purges of military leadership on Friday night are about turning the military into a tool that serves Trump instead of the Constitution.

Guess who the ones purged by this military readiness-weakening move?

Mostly women and minorities in leadership roles.

[uss-edsall]

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General John Q. Brown was fired by Trump

Replaced by retired Lieutenant General John D. Caine, who is neither active duty nor a four star general

Hegseth has fired Admiral Lisa Franchetti, the chief of naval operations

Hegseth has fired General James Slife, vice chief of the Air Force In these three actions they have removed the second black man and first woman to be on the joint chiefs of staff Additionally:

Hegseth is “requesting nominations” for Judge Advocates General for the Army, Navy, and Air Force, indicating that he’s going to replace the head of the military’s lawyer corps with loyalists

The Gleichschaltung des Militärs time has come.

[mqverick]

scummy man || ✮⋆˙ .

“Cause he’s a scumbag, don’t you know?

I said he’s a scumbag, don’t you know?”

────────── ★ ───────────

The moment Daniel Kaffee walked into your office with his stupid apple and his stupid, childish ‘hi’, you knew you were fucked from top to bottom. Of course, they hadn’t taken you seriously when you petitioned Division to have counsel assigned. They brought you the first idiot they came across.

You’d written a seventeen page memo to Bronsky outlining the situation, you’d pleaded your case for a half hour in his living room on a Sunday afternoon, and Division assigned a Lt. Junior Grade? They had too be kidding (or hate you).

You’d managed to scare him, at least, and that you were proud of. He seemed like the type, who was particularly full of himself, which was proven as quite the right accusation, after a few minutes of speaking with him. He was just a bunch of royal bullshit, you’d decided — fucking wanted him off the case, even though he hadn’t even started yet.

He was never going to take it seriously, judging on how loose and cool he acted. For crying out loud, Dawson and Downey were at his sake, while Daniel could not care less about them, opting to practice baseball instead, because he claimed he had a critical game coming. Was that guy serious?

“Lieutenant, would you feel very insulted if I recommended to your supervisor that he assign different counsel?” you threatened, face burning as you struggled to contain your anger at his complete indifference to the situation.

“Why would you do that?”

He had the nerve to ask. “You’re not fit to handle the defense. One second more with you and the marines will have sealed their poor fate.”

Daniel nodded, unimpressed with your tone.

“You don’t even know me. Ordinarily, it takes someone hours to discover I’m not fit to handle a defense. You’ve known me for less than ten minutes.” He walked away from you, as if your threat was a joke to him, like he didn’t believe you.

You stupidly stared at him, blood boiling as you wondered how impossibly scummy one could be.

“I do know you. Daniel Allistair Kaffee, born June 8th, 1964 at Boston Mercy Hospital. Your father's Lionel Kaffee, former Navy Judge Advocate and Attorney General, of the United States, died 1985. You went to Harvard Law on a Navy scholarship, probably because that’s what your father wanted you to do, and now you’re just treading water for the three years you’ve gotta serve in the JAG Corps, just kinda laying low til you can get out and get a real job. And if that’s the situation, that’s fine, I won’t tell anyone. But my feeling is that if this case is handled in the same fast-food, slick-ass, Persian Bazaar manner with which you seem to handle everything else, something’s gonna get missed. And I’d be damned if I allowed Dawson and Downey to spend any more time in prison than absolutely necessary, because their attorney had pre-determined the path of least resistance,” your monologue prevented you from taking a breath, confidently crossing your arms like you’d just won an argument, as Daniel took a quick sip from his Yoo-Hoo, staring intently at you. The sun was hitting his face and if you allowed it to yourself, you could’ve observed how stunningly green his eyes were.

“Wow,” he admired, very taken aback. “I’m sexually aroused, Commander. I may be picking the wrong time to ask you this, but are you seeing anyone right now? ‘Cause I think you and I would be perfect together. It’s clear that you respect me and that’s the foundation for any solid—”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You let out an angry exhale and grabbed him by the collar of his thin baseball shirt, pulling him towards you. He gasped in surprise, breath caught in his throat as you stabbed your finger into his chest as a warning.

“Listen there, Kaffee, I will have you removed from the case, so don’t go around being cute and unbothered. Mark my words, you just waisted your last chance with me.”

And with that, you threw him back to the bleachers, storming away in annoyance and over the top frustration. Never had another human being ever crawled up under your nerves so quickly, it had to be an astonishing world record.

When you walked into your office the next day just to find Daniel sitting on your chair already, you neared the dreadful experience of going into cardiac arrest. You silently wondered how he’d managed to sneak in, but decided to ignore him.

“You didn’t do it.”

His words were softly spoken, causing you to look at him, undoubtedly baffled. “I beg your pardon?”

“You didn’t do it,” he repeated with more emphasis, as if that would help you understand what he was referring to. “I thought you really wanted me out of the case, so I went to check, see if you talked to my supervisor. You didn’t.”

Oh, so he was talking about that. You played it off as something frankly unimportant, not even bothering to reply anything to him. If you turned your back around just for one second, you could’ve seen exactly how distressed he was.

Daniel got up from your chair, walking up behind you as he towered over you, hands unexpectedly nervous, seeing as they couldn’t stay still for a full minute on the waistline of his uniform trousers. You chuckled silently to yourself, nose scrunching in pride as you turned your back, looking dead into his eyes, your own ones fixed on the way his Adam’s apple moved in his neck as he gulped.

“Good job, Lieutenant. I see you took my words seriously for once. Need to keep into mind that you shit your pants way too easily, threats have you following every order you’ve been given.”

Daniel’s eyes were blown with disbelief of your manners, brows raised in offense. There was no doubt that you were prepared to make his life a living hell, had every intention to cause this case to be his first and last one, because the way it was going, he’d either rip apart his diploma or plain out kill himself. And who had the delightful opportunity to hear Daniel complain day and night? None other than Sam.

“She hates me, I don’t even know why,” he cried while pacing back and forth in his small living room, bat placed over his shoulders as he rested his hands on it, mind far away from the case. Sam sighed, sinking back into the couch. “She barely even knows me! I always do stuff wrong for her, she’s never satisfied. Little miss perfect,” he continued without a break, swinging the bat now as he ignored the board that stood in the middle of the place. Sam felt nauseous, having baring his unstoppable yapping for what felt like decades, even though it’d only been less than ten minutes.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his unlimited boredom and he got up to see who it was, ignoring the way Daniel kept going on and on. He looked over the eye on the door, almost letting out an audible groan at the fact that it was you who had knocked, meaning that your appearance would drive his friend even crazier.

“Come in,” he whispered lowly to you as he unlocked the door and let you in. You shrugged your jacket off your shoulders, noticing that Daniel hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that someone else had gotten into his house. “Damn, I’ve never seen him like this before. Normally he loses interest in a girl after a date or two…” he commented with a smirk, but you ignored him.

“You know, I wish she could’ve taken me out of the case, so that I wouldn’t have to see her face again,” Daniel admitted frustratedly, stopping dead in his tracks momentarily as he laid his eyes on you. Suddenly, hitting his head as hard as possible with his bat didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. Oh, he was fucked to the core.

A smug, proud smile spread across your lips.

“Talking about me, Lieutenant Kaffee?” you rhetorically asked, crossing your arms and puffing your chest out arrogantly as you strode confidently across the room to get to him.

Daniel pretended to turn a deaf ear to your question, head strictly observing the case’s board as he gripped on the hand of his baseball bat. He wished the earth would open up and swallow him out of existence, his brain bleeding at the pure satisfaction he’d so universally given you by admitting the very phrase that you’d been accusing him of; dropping the case, because he couldn’t take the seriousness of it. And oh, well, because he couldn’t bare another second with you breathing down his neck and constantly criticizing him without even caring enough to get to know him — not as Daniel Kaffee, but Marine Lieutenant Kaffee. You had no idea of his potential, yet you still found it in you to look down at him, underestimate and humiliate him.

Sam incredulously just existed there, not taking any stance against either one of you. He’d been friends with Daniel since ages, which cast him to be very close to his way of thinking, and he knew for an undeniable fact that his friend was building up a brick wall of denial, hatred and irony just because he wouldn’t want to face the reality of the situation that pained his mind.

Daniel was captivated by you, Sam claimed.

He silently watched the way his eyes never left your face the entire time you spent in the small apartment, while working on the case, the split second that Daniel subconsciously let his jaw slightly hang open when you determinedly explained every detail of how to teach the marines how to act in the courtroom. Of course, Daniel was going through a matter of confusion.

You stood an obstacle to his limitless confidence and that wasn’t something he particularly wanted to experience every passing day, thus why he’d convinced himself that he hated you. But that was simply not true, at least according to Sam’s observations, which always proved to be right.

“I hate her,” he’d say all the time, but even the sound of his voice gave away the fact that he didn’t. How could he, anyway? Despite the hard time you were giving him, you actually worked by his side, boosting him even more. Come on — he was going to be in a courtroom — he’d never been in one before. All because of how stubborn you were with this case. Daniel loved it.

“Nobody likes her very much,” he’d said in Cuba, shouting his statement loudly enough for all the people in the convertible to hear despite the dizzying noise of shots and fighter planes. You’d rolled your eyes, opting not to give him the chance to stupidly smirk at himself for managing to piss you off (that was exactly his only goal).

───

Predictably enough, Daniel was laying down on his couch as a baseball game faintly played in the background, preventing him from concentrating. Truth be told, his mind was blank. He’d prepared himself mentally for what was coming; they’d lose the trial, make complete fools of themselves in front of an entire courtroom. His father was shaking his head disappointedly at him, Daniel knew it. He fiddled with his bat, glancing at the remnants of the two days old pizza he’d heated up in the microwave fifteen minutes ago, lazily thrown in a piece of kitchen paper, next to a half empty bottle of Yoo-hoo. His white uniform from earlier was thrown in a pile in a corner, like a piece of garbage he was itching to get out of his house.

A sudden buzz from his bell was heard, throwing him off as he jumped a little, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he went to the door, wondering who it could be at that time, since he wasn’t even expecting anyone. Or so he thought. The moment he opened the door, you stormed inside without even waiting for him to invite you in. Daniel stood speechless for one second, then shrugged it off, simply because it was you, and your ignorance of him was unquestionable. He looked shit, he realised; dressed in a dark gray T-shirt that had small oil stains on it because of the pizza, an abstract, unbuttoned red, brown and green colored shirt thrown over it.

“I’ve really missed you. It’s been almost three hours since I last saw—” he began sarcastically, but you cut him off abruptly, while placing a stack of papers onto the living room table.

“I can already tell that you forgot we had to meet up to discuss about the case by the way you’ve shamelessly displayed your gross dinner all over the files we need to present tomorrow. Good job, like always, Kaffee.”

Daniel didn’t bother to huff or give out any reaction, at that point, he knew that you were aware of the fact that you pushed his buttons just by breathing the same direction as him. He let his bat against the arm of the couch, taking a folder into his hands and pretending to examine it.

“Is Sam not coming?” he asked without raising his eyes to look at you.

“I don’t know, he’s your buddy. Aren’t you supposed to know better than me?”

You judged his choice of childish drink with a long, disgusting glare, then buried your face into the papers as well. Dawson and Downey relied upon the three of you deeply and if proving them not guilty meant you had to spend your Friday evening in Daniel Kaffee’s apartment, then so be it. It was a lot quieter than usual and the unfamiliar emptiness had you wondering. The baseball game was still on, distracting you from thinking clearly. “I think Kendrick ordered the Code Red. So do you,” you mumbled out of the blue, catching his attention in a second.

“You didn’t just come here to bother me?”

“You’re the worst lawyer I’ve ever met,” you spoke rudely, noticing Daniel’s face drop. “Why don’t you get the poor guys a new attorney, huh? You stand no chance anyway, you’re too afraid.”

“You still haven’t taken the time to get to know me, so I don’t think that you have any rights to go around telling me what to do, Commander,” the boldness of his tone matched yours as he sat on the couch, still denying the urge to look up at you, gauge your reaction to his words. He liked to ignore you, it gave him the impression that he had some sort of power over you that drove you as far mad as you did to him. Ignorance was kind.

“Think I’m going to change my mind about you the moment I hear your childhood sob story? They can all say you’re the best damn lawyer it’s ever been their pleasure to have as an attorney, and I still wouldn’t be convinced. But go on, though, I’ll humor you for tonight. Were daddy’s expectations really that high that they scare you off to do your job correctly?”

He pursed his lips, a slight furrow between his brows again as he stared pointedly at you. His heart crashed every time you went down the family path, not fully understanding how you’d figured him out so quickly and with less effort than even Jack put into his conversations with him. “Okay, then, if you really believe all that, get me replaced, I won’t stop you. Or did you already try that with no luck? Please, spare me the psycho-babble father bullshit, though, it’s your only argument and it’s getting tiring.”

“At least I have an argument.”

“Fucking congratulations! That’s just splendid!”

“Another lawyer won’t be good enough!” you accidentally admitted on your temper. Your eyes widened at the echo in the dead silence, that grew in the apartment, after what you’d just blurted out. Daniel’s eyes softened, filled with pure bewilderment, jaw going slack. His upper front teeth were visible as he stared at you stupidly enough to have your cheeks burning the brightest shade of red. You tried to find an excuse to reason yourself, but nothing could cover up the royal bullocks you’d thrown all over yourself.

He’d never let you live that moment down.

“You frighten me. I’m involved in a situation now, in which the stakes couldn’t be higher. I’m not going to take time out to give tutorials in criminal procedure to an internal affairs schoolgirl who doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing and still has the nerve to threaten my lead.”

“I just melt when you sugar-talk me, Danny.”Daniel felt a sudden rush of heat form in the back of his neck, traveling all the way up to his face at the sound of his nickname falling out of your lips. It wasn’t even a big deal — everyone called him Danny, yet the way it sounded in his ears when you uttered it out, it felt as though someone had turned up the dial on his internal embarrassment thermostat to maximum, and now he was sure he was ready to burst at any moment. The awkwardness of the moment had both of you completely mute, blankly finding random things in his house to interestingly stare at, as if they were suddenly very important. “Anyway, I think you know exactly how to win. They need you.”

A dumbstruck smile lightened up his face.

“You really think so?”

“Do you have something to drink?” you dodged the question, knowing that you’d revealed too much of your genuine feelings about him. Of course you admired him, how could you not?

“Yeah — Yeah! Something to drink, yes, just a second, let me see what’s in the fridge,” he exclaimed, inexplicably jumpy as he practically flew to the fridge. The corners of your lips turned upwards, enjoying the way he struggled to roam through the drinks and food, some things falling over in his attempt to search in the back. When he finally approached you, he was proudly holding a small bottle with a yellow Yoo-hoo tag on it.

You sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s chocolate milk, you’ll love it.”

What the hell, you thought, taking the drink from him as he handed it over to you with a warm smile. Your face was filled with disgust, almost hollering at the smell. When you let a few drops touch your lips, you coughed dramatically and shook your head in denial of what you’d just drank, placing the bottle back on the table.

“That’s the most foul thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Wait until you try my cooking. I usually save that card until the fourth or fifth date, though,” Daniel smirked, eyes gleaming under the bright yellow light of his living room. He looks so dumb, how is this man a navy lawyer? you questioned yourself.

“Explains why you’re single, then.”

“Maybe I’m just waiting for someone.”

“Is it Jack Ross? ‘Cause I think he likes you back, you should totally make a move,” you teased him.

“Maybe said someone is annoying me as we talk.”

“Come on, Danny, can’t take a joke?”

He didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and twirled his bat on the ground, while pacing around the coffee table. “Can I ask you something personal?” he asked out of the blue, causing a pit of anxiety to form into your stomach.

“I suppose you’ll ask even if I refuse.”

“Look at you, you’re finally getting to know me.”

“Shoot, Kaffee.”

“What made you become a lawyer for the Navy?”

Your expression changed, now fully confused. You wondered how he’d possibly come up with that question all of sudden — was he doing some sort of research on you, get you exposed and out of his lead case so that you wouldn’t annoy him anymore with your constant complaining? Or was it more just Daniel being… well, Daniel and randomly coming up with the most out of context questions and things to discuss about?

“They wouldn’t let me fly the planes,” you simply gave and he tsk’ed with a dramatic head shake.

“Pegged you for the one that never gave up. You are becoming less of a role model on Junior Lieutenant Kaffee now, Commander. You’re like seven of the strangest women I’ve ever met.”

“That’s rich of you to say,” you added a little too quickly and loudly for your liking, hating how you were always so eager to defend yourself in situations that didn’t ask for it. “I’m the girl guys like you hated in sixth grade.”

Daniel’s eyes softened as he hesitantly took a seat next to you. “You’re wrong,” he muttered through his lips, looking down at his entwined fingers before exhaling exhaustively. “You’re the girl guys like me pulled the pigtails of at minor interactions just because they were too afraid of letting her know how they really felt about her.”

A pause. Silence built up in the room as Daniel kept looking down on his lap, eyes closed as if he was hoping for something, as if he was scared that the moment he’d open them, you’d be gone, because he’d screwed everything up again. But you were still there when he eventually decided to look over at you, staring blankly at him with no emotion whatsoever. He despised the fact that he couldn’t read you, hated the thought of not knowing exactly what went through your mind during that moment; it caused him too much anxiety, plus, with his little experience with girls, he’d never lived anything similar. They were all so chattery and urgent to fuck him that they didn’t hold anything back… and then, there was you.

You, who Daniel didn’t know how to feel about.

And suddenly, he couldn’t stand — bare — the fact that you’d been staring at him with so much to say, all that visible through your glassy eyes, and it was killing him, causing his stomach to flip, because he was ridiculously unaware about whether he did the right thing to reveal so much with that metaphor, or if he’d just ruined every aspect of professionalism between you.

“Kaffee?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, his voice worn out, shaky as if he was about to break down right there in front of you. Your lack of response made his heart feel tight. “I’m not going to reassign Dawson and Downey to another lawyer, by the way. Neither will you ever be able to replace me, because I’m going to stick here.”

You instantly warmed up. For the first time, his confidence gave you that slight ounce of reassurance that you needed to get, put the colour back in your eyes as you grinned proudly at him, not caring about the so though Commander title you’d been given. “What made you change your mind?”

“Not you,” he replied, reciprocating the calmness and brightness of your face. “Just… don’t wear that perfume, it wrecks my concentration.”

“Really?” you asked in awe. Daniel just smiled. You noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he inhaled the courage to say something, then…

“This might be the wrong time to ask this, but would you really hate the idea of me taking y—”

“I am so sorry,” Sam interrupted, barging into Daniel’s apartment while panting, struggling to take his coat off as he put a hand over his chest. “I had to take care of my daughter, she got sick and my wife wasn’t home, I — Oh, I walked into something there, didn’t I?”

You think? Daniel mutely thought of saying to his friend, so mad inside as he glared at him with burning passion to slam the door shut into his face and returning to the conversation he was having with you less than twenty seconds ago.

“I need to go, anyway, I promised the Marines that I would visit them and help them prepare for the court. I’ll see you tomorrow, Danny. Bye, Sam,” you dismissed them, getting up from the couch and waving goodbye to the two of them as you walked outside with a small smile.

“No wait!” Daniel called, but it was already too late. “What the fuck, Sam?! You know something called knocking on the fucking door?”

Sam didn’t reply, simply because he was too busy explaining the story of why he thought he wouldn’t make it to the case preparation as he cleaned Daniel’s living room. He realised that his friend was paying no attention to him at all, only staring at the almost full Yoo-hoo bottle you’d left on the table from earlier, and that was all Sam needed to know exactly why he was being ignored. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Daniel never replied.

───

“Hi!” he greeted you with the following day, head peaking in your office through the half closed door. He looked dumb, his oversized blue varsity jacket covering most of his palms as he held onto the door with a wide grin, eyes sparkling. You couldn’t understand his excitement.

“Hey,” the reply was dry and held back.

“I think we might actually have just enough evidence to prove Dawson and Downey innocent, all thanks to you,” he claimed happily, allowing himself fully into your office. You gave him a weird look but didn’t question anything, instead ignored him as you organized the discarded papers on your desk into folders. Daniel’s face dropped at your lack of enthusiasm for him, worry written all over his face as he quickly began fiddling again.

“That’s quite literally my job, Daniel.”

“Did I do something to offend you?” His heart was racing now, mind stuck in the loop of any words that he could’ve said to cause your so indifferent reaction. “You’re giving me the cold shoulder. I thought we moved past that.”

“It was just one conversation about the case. It’s not like we’re expected to act like friends after not bickering for a total of five minutes.” Oh. Daniel’s stomach was tied into knots, he felt as though he’d been kicked in the crotch with the worst possible amount of strength. His face was paled, eyes growing blurry as he nodded at your statement, not finding himself strong enough to say anything back to you, and instead choosing to walk out with his last pieces of remaining dignity.

He thought you might had started liking him. Even a little, he didn’t care about the numbers.

Daniel got easily emotionally influenced, though, and his performance at the court was screwed. He wouldn’t communicate with either you or Sam, interrogating the men on the stand with such frustration that the jury sighed every five seconds. You pinched the bridge of your nose and tightened your fingers into fists, crumbling a paper in front of you as Sam touched your shoulder in a way of telling you to calm down.

But how could you? You were losing the case already and it hadn’t even been a day. What is he doing? you thought, relentlessly questioning his choice of tone and movements. You had no idea how you restrained yourself from slapping him against the wall when he returned to the desk, hands shoved into his pockets as he set his jaw.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you whispered yelled at him, but he didn’t even bother to look at you. When the judge dismissed everyone, Daniel walked away as if nothing had happened. Your head was going to explode, you decided, as you followed him, high heels slamming against the floor. You’d strangle the soul out of him, who would even defend you? Sam followed silently, keeping it low-key as he whispered at you not to create any more trouble. Daniel was seemingly upset and at the back of your mind, you wondered if the reason was the fact that you’d neglected him less than an hour ago back in your office. You felt like you should’ve kept that for yourself and tell him later eventually, when the trial would be over. “Do you have any idea why he’s like this?” you turned to the other attorney.

“Why do you think?” was the only thing he left you with, his words ringing in your head as your pace quickened unnecessarily faster than expected. Your breath was coming in short, eyes stinging as you repeatedly called for Daniel’s name in the corridors without any response.

He was proving you right by all this.

All your doubts and fears about him being unable to thoroughly handle the case were bursting one by one, getting huger and huger until you’d start breaking down in a corner on his behalf. You hated Daniel Kaffee more than any other person.

“Daniel, fucking stop!” you shouted and he finally stilled. Your immediate instinct was to take a break from the intense walking, hand over your chest as you tried to regain your balance.

“Maybe you should’ve asked for them to keep me out,” was all he said before disappearing outside. He was mad, but mostly exhausted with everything, especially overwhelmed by you. He was done trying; finished with the case, finished the way you treated him — how one day you loved him and the next day you pretended he wasn’t even there, as if he didn’t exist. And he was fine with that, you didn’t want him, he could live.

But you gave him false hope, or so he thought.

“Lieutenant!” he heard you yell again, your pants mixed with the sound of your heels against the hallway floor. He decided not to turn around, didn’t want to hear anything that you had to say. “Lieutenant Kaffee!” And suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, letting out a breath as he slammed his arms against his sides in defeat.

“What? What do you want from me?” he asked with frustration, voice raspy and shaky as he firmly loosened the black tie that felt like it was cutting the air out of his lungs, suit all messed up and wrinkly from fighting it off his body. He felt heavy, bothered, didn’t want to exist anymore.

“What do you mean what?” you asked with fragility, and it was the first time he’d ever heard you speak a sentence so softly and fearfully.

“I mean what is it?”

“I wanted to say that you did quite well in there, even though it was your first time and that—”

“Please — don’t even — don’t even start…” he cut you off mid-word, eyes squinting close as he tried not to look at you, afraid that just one glance at your face would be enough for him to bend.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re giving me mixed signals!” he abruptly bursted, making you jump a little. You’d never heard him raise his voice like that before, despite the fact that you’d been into countless bickers before with him. No, there was something different this time, something more into it.

“What?”

“You’re — you’re confusing the shit out of me! One day you fucking hate me and the other you get so nice with me that it almost makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could have a chance with you… Start things over. And then you go back to day one — and no one has ever… I feel like one day I’m saving you from a burning building and the next I’m throwing you to the sharks, this — this is exactly how it is with us and it’s all your fucking fault! I’ve tried so hard with you, to make myself worthy, to catch your attention, to make you realise that I don’t think I’ve never admired a person more than you in my life before… and you keep throwing everything away! And I’m fine with that, but for the name of love, stop giving me hope that one day maybe you’ll actually start liking me.”

His monologue left you speechless, every word, every breath engraved and buzzing into your troubled brain as he walked away, this time without being stopped by anyone. Daniel felt like rubbish. On one hand, he felt relieved for letting the thoughts that had been eating him alive out, but on the other he felt even heavier. He knew he’d risked so much for speaking up, but the final straw had been put into his overfilled glass.

For a short moment, he considered turning back.

Perhaps you’d have something to say to him, but that was exactly what he dreaded. The more he’d spend looking at you, waiting for an answer or even the slightest reaction, the more he’d want to listen to what you’d have to say to him, and that was cautionary for his condition. Obviously, he’d fallen for you along the line. You’d screwed him over so deeply that he didn’t know where to grasp at to save himself from losing the grip he had by the end of the cliff. No, he decided, if you wanted him half as bad as he wanted you, you’d go after him, search for him, ask people, show that you cared, even if the amount wasn’t a great deal.

It was insignificant to him, if you cared about him as much as he did for you, he just wanted you to care. Even as a companion, or a respected fellow attorney. You didn’t follow him, though, and the sad part was that he wasn’t even surprised. Of course you had nothing to say to him, you’d made that very clear by wanting him so badly off the case that you were prepared to move the sky and earth just to earn the satisfaction of watching him be defeated. And if you so utterly needed him uninvolved, why did you give him motivation not to quit? Why did you keep pushing him?

Every ounce of feeling that he had for you was a big, unanswered why that tortured him inside.

Daniel wished he could erase from your memory what he’d just confessed. Make you forget all about it, have you look at him with the same hateful eye that you always did. Because now, you’d look at him with pity, scared of what to say to him (he’d revealed way too much and he was only just realising it) — gosh, he’d ruined it. He was so exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Ethic violations were involved in the mess, as well, because of course they would be. A sexual relationship with a fellow counsel in the middle of a trial? What was he thinking? As if you even wanted him breathing near you in the first place.

───

It had only been three, going to four hours, ever since Daniel got his heart crashed, made a fool of himself not only in the courtroom, but also in front of you. For him, it felt like days, even a full week. His only company was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s that he’d almost finished, stuffing it in his coat’s large pockets as he walked back home.

This was how you felt about him. You hated him.

And he’d have to make amends with that, but not without the encouragement of cheap alcohol pouring into his system. Thank god for Ross, who always bought him all the booze he needed.

You, on the other hand, had wasted all of your breath trying to look for Daniel everywhere. It’d almost been an hour and you were at the hands of Sam, trying to think about all the possible locations that his friend could be at. You searched for him at the O Club, down at the basketball court, even his own apartment, but he was nowhere to be found. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest, caught in your throat as you walked back to his neighborhood, opting to give his apartment another try. It’d been more than thirty minutes ever since you first went, maybe he’d returned by now. Your hands were shaking as you brought a loosely balled up fist to the surface of the door, hesitantly knocking on it once, twice — then heard steps from inside.

“Go away.”

Your entire body eased momentarily at the sound of his voice. Good, he wasn’t dead. His tone was cold and distant, nevertheless, and you knew that he was in no mood for seeing or even speaking to you after how you’d behaved during his speech, or even earlier, during the trial. Your mouth went dry at the first attempt of speaking back to him.

“Danny—”

“You’ve got no place to call me that.”

Oh. So, you’d really broken him.

“Daniel,” you corrected yourself halfheartedly, your hands rubbing up and down against the sides of your outer thighs, “can you let me in?”

“No.”

Your face dropped. You weren’t used to Daniel being so… you didn’t even know how exactly to describe it. The relationship between the two of you hadn’t started on a brilliant basis, neither did it get any better throughout all the time, but even though he didn’t seem to like you very much, he’d always been open for you, in some sort of way that your mind still struggled to comprehend.

“Daniel, please,” you begged, stepping back, surprised when his door creaked open just an inch to reveal his heavy lidded, blurry eyes.

“Do you have anything to say to me about the case? Otherwise, get moving, Commander.”

“Did you… Are you drunk?” you found yourself asking worriedly, ignoring his previous question.

“Why do you care, huh? Last time I checked, you didn’t give two shits about me!” he yelled, slamming the door back shut into your face, causing you to flinch. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“So this is it?”

Daniel swore he was only a second away from exploding, your question sending him over the edge as he chuckled in frustration, not knowing whether you asked what you asked simply to piss him off, or if you were genuinely placing an inquiry that you had been unclear about.

“This is what? Are you fucking with me?”

“You’ve hated me ever since you stepped into my office. You always did, say it. Just say that you hate me, you can’t stand me anymore, come on. Or is this just for Sam’s ears? That you wished I’d taken you out of the case just so you wouldn’t have to listen to my voice any longer. Come on, Kaffee, that’s all you’ve got to say.”

Daniel backed away in disbelief, then made you silently wince as he punched hard against the door, the sound of his skin hitting the processes wood ringing in faint echoes inside your eardrums. You’d driven him out of control.

“Me? Hate you? How could you possibly say such a thing — I — I…” Daniel wasn’t sure how to continue the sentence. There were too options and both of them would have a negative impact upon your relationship with each other and case.

One; he could let his tipsy mind ramble on and on about how you hadn’t once left his mind ever since he saw you for the first time, that he’d never felt so intimidated by anyone, never had fallen into such a deep awe of someone’s passion and ability to pursue their goals in life. That he wished he could possess the one thirds of your courage and determination, because you were honestly scared of nothing, got all the questions you wanted answered within a heartbeat. You didn’t back down in any occasion, you were your own person and Daniel had fallen so deeply in love with everything that you so proudly owned in your character that he thought he was a lost card.

Two; he could never continue the sentence, trail off and stay completely silent, see if you had anything to reply to him — and of course, he opted for the safest option, which was the second one. He was too scared of wearing his heart on his sleeve, knowing that you’d break it anyway.

“The fact that you’re so fucking scared of being a lawyer is beyond me. You’re in the Navy for crying out loud, get a hold of yourself,” was all you muttered in response, leaning against his door, completely unaware of the fact that he was also in the same position, that if the door disappeared in thin air that very moment, you’d fall on top of him with your mouth so dangerously close to his own that he’d pass out (and so would you, in some extent.)

Daniel’s every muscle was so tightly contracted, that he believed they’d crash altogether without any warning if he spent one more minute, forehead pressed against the door, knowing damn well that you were still outside, that you breathed just as heavily as he did, that he’d tied himself to the tracks, ready to be run over.

He knew that whatever was happening in that moment would reek of runny makeup and salty tears, sweat of agony running down the faces of two attorneys, bewildered and scorned as they fell into silence in preference of doing what they’d studied in law school for four years; defend their own selves, master the words. The ability of speaking had died down your throats near the day you chose bitterness over respect for each other.

Daniel averted his eyes to the ground, mustered all the courage he could possibly get and loosened his fingers in his fist. He called your name once, twice, but no reply ever came back. He knew you’d left, could understand it by the way he peaked through the glass hole in his door and saw that no one was there. His logic screamed at him to stay where he was, crash in the couch, close his eyes and sleep, forget about the case, forget about you, the conversations, the feelings, the tension, everything. Take down the entire Jack Daniel’s bottle and lean into the cushions without any further thinking.

Thank God that Daniel hated logical reasoning.

His door flew open as he hurried outside, not caring about his half unbuttoned dress shirt and blowsy uniform. It had been raining for hours now, the steady patter of water hitting against the windows of his small apartment long since faded to a dull rush in the back of his mind. He stepped out of the building, the thick material of his coat almost getting soaked through instantly. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out how far ahead you’d gotten, the pouring rain blurring his vision as he eventually spotted you on the road.

“Commander!” he shouted, but you didn’t turn, so he called for your name instead, numerous times until your feet gave up. A piercing gust of wind shook the trees above your head, showering your already miserable frame with a fresh deluge. You wiped the water from your eyes with a wet sleeve and tucked a lock of long brunette hair that fell into your eyes behind your dampened ear.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” you said with a steady voice, barely audible in the downpour. Daniel tried to catch his breath as he finally reached you, looking like he was about to either melt along with the rain, or simply vanish.

“No, I can’t accept that. We — We braved extraordinary circumstances to get over here. You need to give me one chance,” he begged, but you kept walking, tired of his mediocre speeches and dramatic overreactions everywhere possibly imaginable. You wanted facts, wanted to listen to him fully, crystal clearly admit what he had to say. Not dance around it like he’d catch on fire. “Hey, I’m talking to you! Fucking listen to me!”

“Fuck off, Lieutenant Kaffee!” you screamed back, not caring about the fact that the rain would probably give you a deadly cold the following day, if not kill you by throwing you off at a very abrupt road pit. Daniel was soaked, hair sticking to his forehead and still very drunk. He felt embarrassed of how high pitched his voice got whenever he yelled from the top of his lungs, almost sounding like a complaining kid at the supermarket, who wouldn’t get the sweets he wanted from the counter while waiting to pay.

He needed answers. Did you even like him?

“You’re saying I’m scared and you can’t even face how you feel!” he shouted catching you off guard. “You can’t even look at me without lying.” Your blood was boiling into your veins as you gave him that chance, which he so desperately wanted, to explain himself to you, to see what he had to say.

“What did you just say?”

Daniel came closer, hands shaking from the temper building within him, looking pathetic as his hair dripped along with the rain down his face.

“You say I’m scared, but you’re terrified. At least I’ve shown you how I feel about you. I give myself away, because I can’t hold back everything that goes into my head the second you walk in it. I’m too weak to defend myself when it comes to you — look at me, you make me forget how to do my job — and I’m one of the most qualified lawyers out there, according to the Navy.”

“What are you talking about? You haven’t even once told me anything about how you feel about me. I’ve overheard you say to Sam that you hate me, that you wish you couldn’t hear my voice. What the fuck were you on about, huh, Kaffee?”

Daniel threw his hands and looked up, gulping down his worn out feelings as he tried to collect himself from breaking down in front of you, yet once again. “You know what Sam said to me when I kept telling him all that stuff about you?”

“I don’t care about what he said to you,” you scoffed in annoyance, ready to leave again, when you heard the words fly out of his mouth.

“That I’m in love with you!”

Daniel ached to prove that you were the scared one in this, breath wasted as he summoned every single ounce of remaining strength he had to grab you by the arm and yank you close to him, crashing his lips into yours forcefully. He never imagined the first time he’d get to kiss you to be that way. His body was trembling in fear (and because of the weather), heart hammering in the most literal way possible. The kiss barely lasted, seeing as you pushed him away almost instantly.

He felt crashed into millions of pieces, exploding like they did in the cartoons. He’d gathered so much courage to finally kiss you, and there you were, looking at him like he’d committed some sort of unbelievable crime, like he’d offended your honour. Daniel felt like an idiot; he’d ruined everything even worse. Had he really misinterpreted every look, every conversation, every fight? He wanted to cry, so he did. His tears ran down his salty cheeks, mixing with the rain, which allowed him to sob as hard as he needed to, not caring whether it made him look more pathetic and weak than he already was.

Who was going to see anyway?

You weren’t saying a word and Daniel was sure that another heartbeat was all it would take for the organ to crawl up inside his throat and hurl out, break; rip in two. He’d said his biggest fear, had actually put the exact words in it, then proceeded to throw an action. And he was destroyed, not because you didn’t kiss him back or because you pushed him away, but because you had chosen the mute torture of silence.

“…What else do I have to do to prove to you that I’m so fucking head over heels for you that I can’t possibly concentrate on anything else? I might lose the case and make a fool of myself, because you make me not think,” he tried again, this time with a fragile and weak voice. He honestly had no idea what more he could do to convince you about his feelings, about how nuts you drove him with your attitude and insane personality.

But again, you opted not to say anything. Instead, you quickly took a few steps forward, grabbed him by the ends of the collar of his long, black coat and pulled him into you, mouth capturing his own swiftly as you tilted your head to the side, deepening the kiss. Daniel was paralyzed for a short second, not knowing if he’d been struck by some sort of lightning that had killed him and brought him to a different reality, or whether you kissing him was an actual, real, skin to skin thing.

Stupidly enough, he allowed his lips to turn upwards into a broadening smile, responding with such enthusiasm, even though he was ridiculously taken aback by your choice of action. It took him a minute to regain his composure, the storm — hell, the entire world — around you feeling meaningless as his hands laced with yours, causing your grip on him to relax a little.

Daniel was falling fast, faster than ever, craving more of your scent and the feel of you pressed closer and tighter to him, the taste of alcohol mixing along with the buds of your mouth, unsure how this whole story had even began for him.

But his stupid, stupid lungs had to find air, and he was forced to separate from you with the feeling of gravity being torn out of his core. You’d disconnected your hands from his (with another pitiful drop in his stomach) so you could run them through his disheveled, wet hair, and his eyes fluttered close at the touch. You looked up at him with an emotion that neither of you could really find the words to explain, and Daniel wanted to kiss you again, heat rising to his face, forming a what he thought could be a permanent blush as his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

“I’m so wet,” you realised out loud with a dumb smile, trying to hold back a giggle as you watched him bemusedly, eyes glowing brightly at the way he looked at you with such confusion, a bulge straining into his damp uniform pants.

“What — wha… what?” his voice was high pitched and shaky as he cleared his throat. “Oh! Shit — the rain, let’s — let’s get you inside!” He was so flustered and hard, just from one kiss, and he stuttered in every word he spoke. He took his coat off and covered your head with it as he grabbed you by the hand, hurrying back to his apartment.

When you went inside, you acted all unbothered, like nothing had even happened just a moment ago, and it was killing Daniel, because he was terrified of you throwing him away once again. He helped you to the couch, then rushed into his bedroom, pulling out every piece of clothing that he had in the wardrobe with such anticipation as he anxiously roamed through the selves to find blankets to offer you, get you dry from the rain.

“Okay, this is all I have. Do you prefer the pink or the... what color is this — orange? Coral? Erm, which one—” he was getting tongue tied and you found it adorable, taking both blankets off his hands as he stared at us, mesmerised. You looked over your shoulder, as if he was looking through you, then returned your gaze at him, getting nervous. “I’ll — I’m going to make coffee!”

You heard him smack his forehead as he went in the kitchen and grinned like a child. “Daniel?” you called from the living room with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah?”

“It was coral, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“The blanket. It was coral. Can I change my clothes? I’m getting your couch wet,” you asked.

“Sure! Closet’s in the left.”

You got up, wrapped in the blankets as you walked into his closet, shamelessly going through all of his ridiculous, childish, cheap shirts that you so deeply hated (loved). You found a black shirt, which you threw over your body as you picked a checkered shirt to put on as well, feeling a little lump from the chest pocket. You went through it and pulled out an unused condom, cheeks turning pink as you held out the object and went to the kitchen, proudly exposing it in your hand.

“Is this a gift?” you questioned, laughing wholeheartedly when you noticed Daniel’s cheeks burn red in earth swallowing embarrassment.

“Oh… uhm,” he snatched the condom off you, “you’re wearing my special shirt.”

“Your what?”

“My special shirt. It’s for… good luck… for when I go to baseball games and everything. Or — Or dates. Nothing important, no need to make a great deal out of it.” He felt dead inside, still very confused by the fact that you still hadn’t made the smallest reference to the kiss you’d shared. Was it just a thing that occurred due to the heat of the moment? It broke him just to think so, because for a split minute, he gave himself the permission to picture the two of you together, as an actual couple in love. Was he supposed to bring it up first? Were you waiting for him?

Daniel felt like a jerk, unintentionally pouting.

“Please,” you mumbled. Please stop being pathetic, I really like you too. “Danny?”

“It’s still raining. You can stay… I mean, if you want to, of course.” And gosh, both of you were about to melt, saying nothing, just staring at each other with millions of words being exchanged just through the different kinds of gleams in your eyes. You fucking hated Daniel Kaffee so much.

“Danny?” you repeated and he urgently shook his head, letting you know that you could keep going with the question. You smiled warmly, wrapping your arms gently around his neck, then, “I’d love to stay overnight. Oh, and you’re like seven of the strangest men I’ve ever met.”

FIN.

for your information, me and @honeymvnt wrote this together. might be one of the best things i’ve ever had the chance to write, ilysfm lia 🫵🏼🎀

[jackmedwn]

JAG Indicts Tim Walz | Real Raw News

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Spring, 2020 - JAG Headquarters Naval Base San Diego

Chapter 6 Part 1 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: After too long, it's finally the day of your inquiry. You're to be judged by a panel of your peers and with the COMPACFLT presiding. You're filled with nerves. Of course, Lieutenants Marks and Greybanks have your back as do the Daggers. One conversation with Rooster gives you hope, hope that your soulmate doesn't hate you, and hope that this inquiry will finally go your way!

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish. The author has no idea how Navy inquiries go (so take all the legalese with a grain of salt).

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 4414

A/N: Hehehehehe! Now that I've gotten my wicked little giggles out of the way, I hope you're all ready!

But first! A disclaimer! I'm neither a law professional nor in the US Navy. In this more than any chapter for this story I've written, I implore you to ignore the pseudo-legalese and my fragrant lack of knowledge regarding military inquiry protocol.

And now to the fun part! We're going to get revenge on an odious little bird in this chapter! (Yes, I mean a particular character!) His number is up and everyone is very eager to see him BURN!

I'm sorry this chapter wasn't out at 6 PM EST like usual. What can I say except life happened?

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

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Tinkerbell

The courtroom is far less imposing than you were expecting. The walls are beige and unadorned. The truly imposing people in the room are your opposing counsel and the fact that this trial is being presided over by the Commander of the Pacific Fleet, Admiral Tom Kazansky. You’d think that facing down the COMPACFLT and a panel of fellow Lieutenant Commanders would take all of your attention, but you’d be wrong. The focus of all of your attention, and well, the attention of everyone else in the room, is on the cocky man sitting in the witness box. He's under oath, having promised to ‘Tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth’, but looking at his face, a part of you cannot believe he will do so. Whatever truths spilling from his mouth are likely to be false, nuggets of information so twisted and cruel that you can’t even hope the panel of Lieutenant Commanders in the room can make sense of it. The picture he’s painting of you is far from flattering, after all.

As Hawk tells it, you’re a temperamental female AMDO Lieutenant Commander with a penchant for throwing hissy fits on the job and sabotaging successful male pilots just out of spite for their physical prowess. It’s a convincing tale and makes you want to sink into the seat of your chair next to Commanders Marks and Greybanks as he smirks vindictively at you. As if he hadn’t dragged every inch of your leadership through the mud when he went through the events of the first AMDO inspection of the year, now you know there’s something else he has to mention for this trial. It hasn’t mattered how often Commanders Marks and Grebanks objected to Hawk’s rendition of the first AMDO inspection of the year. Admiral Kazansky had sustained all of the objections, but it seems to have been too little, too late. Nobody on the panel of seven looks remotely convinced of your innocence anymore.

“Moving on then. What, Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor, did you witness on the morning of December 18th at approximately 0530 AM?” Commander Wilson of the Judge Advocate General’s Corps is stern as he asks the question. When you’d expressed confusion to Commanders Marks and Greybank, you were informed that this was standard operating procedure in the Navy. The courtroom, for lack of a better word, is hushed. Whether you like it or not, Hawk has everyone on the edge of their seats, hanging onto his every word.

“I saw the Lieutenant Commander and the Lieutenants having words, Commander.”

“Which Lieutenant Commander and Lieutenants, Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor?” It’s unsurprising when Hawk points to you as well as Bradley and Jake sitting in the gallery and states your full names. You were expecting this; both Commanders Marks and Greybank had prepared you for it. However, you weren’t expecting to see Bradley in the courtroom or the remaining Daggers. This closed inquiry indicates whether you will face a court martial. The only personnel in the room are those necessary for the defense or the prosecution. So that must mean that the Daggers are being called either as witnesses for the defense or a witness for the prosecution.

It hurts, seeing the new scars crisscrossing over Bradley’s face and the fragile way he shuffles in his seat as Hawks’ testimony enthralls the court. You, on the other hand, feel like you’re going to throw up. That distinctly sick feeling continues as Commander Wilson asks question after question, all of them intent on crucifying you. If he were in an F-18, you’d have the crosshairs on you and hear the tone of the missile lock. A victorious smile, poorly concealed, is on Hawk's face as his prosecution finishes questioning and takes their seats. Now, Commander Marks takes over the questioning for the defense.

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor, we've heard what happened on the morning of December 18th. Why were you on base that early?”

Commander Greybanks leans forward when Hawk scoffs and starts scrawling notes on the legal pad before him. “We were scheduled to begin training at 0800 hours sharp. But I wanted to get some additional time on the flight simulators, so I was on base earlier that day.”

“Then why were you in Hangar Two, Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor, when per your earlier statement, you were going to the Simulation Center on the opposite end of North Island Naval Air Station?”

You let a furtive smile curl your lips for the first time since the inquiry began. It’s fleeting because you probably shouldn’t be smiling, but the hope that question gives you is enough. Hawk’s expression makes you feel even better because he looks like he’s taken a sip of curdled milk from an expired carton.

“I was just on my way to the Simulation Center from the locker room when I saw the lights on in Hangar Two. It was 0530 in the morning, ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else there. So, I dipped in through the back door to ensure nobody was messing with the proprietary Naval technology inside the hangar.”

There’s a distinct tremor in Hawk’s voice as he says the words. It almost feels like he’s worried about something - hopefully, something that the Commanders will uncover.

“What about the conversation the Lieutenant Commander and Lieutenants were having piqued your interest, Lieutenant Junior Grade?”

“I couldn’t quite hear it, Ma’am, but it was something to do with Lieutenant Bradshaw’s jet.”

Hawk takes a sip of water from the glass in front of him before he continues.

“I was not close enough to hear exactly what was wrong with the jet, Ma’am. But Tinkerbell was under the jet looking at the landing gear - the front landing gear in particular.”

“So what did you hear, Lieutenant Junior Grade?” Commander Marks is sticking to the facts, not letting Hawk philosophize in a manner he’d clearly like to if the way he swallows with each statement is an indication. She’s also quite content to let Hawk’s continued use of your callsign rather than your rank slide. It bothers you because you’ve earned your rank with blood, sweat, and a not-insignificant quantity of tears. But she must have a reason. Both the Commanders must have a reason because Hawk’s clearly discomfited at Commander Marks questioning him instead of Commander Greybank.

“As I mentioned, Ma’am, I heard nothing until Lieutenant Bradshaw got loud. He mentioned something about wanting to still fly.”

“Then what happened?” 

“Tinkerbell happened, ma’am.” There’s a distinct snarl on his face as he says your name. “She refused to let Lieutenant Bradshaw fly.”

“Was Lieutenant Bradshaw’s absence explained before that day’s exercises?”

“It was ma’am, by Tinkerbell of all people. She explained it as an acute mechanical failure on the front landing gear - not that I believed her.”

“And what happened after that?”

“Nothing, in particular, Ma’am. We flew in our assigned patterns through the morning and into the afternoon. It was the first hop after lunch that something out of the ordinary happened. Lieutenant Bradshaw came on comms at half-past two that day. He told us he’d been cleared to fly by Tinkerbell and that he’d be joining us up in the air.”

You feel like you’ve been sucker-punched again. Suddenly, you’re back on the tarmac, jet fuel exhaust wafting past as you scream into the comms. That panic, that pain, that feeling of hopelessness, and the fear is washing over you again.

“Twenty minutes later, I was watching a fireball burst against the side of the mountain. Tell me why it was that one of the US Navy's best aviators had to crash because one female AMDO couldn't do her job properly?”

“The defense has no further questions about the incident occurring on December 18th, Admiral Kazansky.”

“Very well, let’s take a half-hour recess and convene back here at exactly quarter past 11. We’ll resume with the questioning of Lieutenant Bradshaw at that time.” The Admiral looks tired - it can’t be easy presiding over inquiries.

The moment you are dismissed, the Commanders lead you to a secluded bench in the open central hall of JAG headquarters.

“That was rough.” It’s a matter-of-fact comment and not one that either of the Commanders is expecting a response to.

They let you sit in silence for a minute, at most, before Lieutenant Greybank hands you a bottle of water. “Do you still intend to testify to the status of your soulbond with Lieutenant Bradshaw?”

“If I need to.” You sigh, noticing the Daggers spreading out through the courtyard. Jake and Javy look like they're searching for you. So does Bradley - which you are not expecting. “It’s my last resort, sir, ma’am. If we need to mention my soulbond and soul-markers to sway the panel, then we will. I’m not ready to let my career go without a fight.”

“Alright. We’re going to go talk to Commander Wilson. I feel we have a few more pieces of evidence to submit to the Admiral and the panel, then.” You stand and salute the higher-ranking officials as they walk away before sitting back down as you let your eyes flutter closed. 

It’s warm in the sun-roof ceilinged room. If you ignore the chatter of people at the coffee cart across the way, you could almost delude yourself into believing that it’s the middle of summer. More importantly, you can believe that all of this is behind you. You let yourself relish in the heat and imagine a summer day where you're curled up under the lone oak tree in your backyard. There are birds chirping, and if you focus, you can just hear the soft susurrations of the ocean over the wind rustling through the grass.

Your fantasy comes crashing down around your ears when a body settles onto the bench next to you. You know who it is before you even open your eyes, the soulbond buzzing like a hive of agitated bees under your skin just in his proximity.

“Hi, Bradley.” Your face feels hot as you take in his face.

“Hi, Tink.” He sounds so subdued, so lost as he greets you.

“Are you doing alright?” You blurt the words out before you even think about them. You've meant to ask it since you heard he woke up.

“I'm okay, Tinkerbell.” He chuckles then, something soft yet mirthless. “Gotta take it one day at a time. Though I think I'm officially not a looker anymore.”

The scars are arresting, slanting bright red, and standing out from his still-golden skin. But they're not ugly; far from ugly, in fact. The new skin growing over the burns is pink and tender, the color of his lips when he bites on them as he's deep in thought. They make him look mature, almost otherworldly, sitting there in his white dress uniform with his cover perched on perfectly coiffed curls.

“That's a lie.” You’re so tired of hearing the lies, of the stress, and of the sleepless nights, more like exhaustion, that the words trip out of your mouth unbidden. Your brain catches up with your mouth just a touch too late, but before your mortification can set in, rich laughter fills up the space between the two of you.

“Tell me what you really think; why don’t you, Tinkerbell?” Something about being this close to Bradley Bradshaw makes you feel brave and bold.

“It makes you look mysterious.” His laugh makes you smile.

“I owe you an apology.”

“I have to apologize to you.”

You start speaking at the same time he does, your voice tapering off into shocked silence when you hear that he’s saying the same thing you are.

“What do you have to apologize for, Bradley?” Your voice is quiet as you stare in shock at him. He looks just as confused as you are. 

“I could ask the same thing of you. But if I do, I’m pretty sure we’ll be asking each other questions until this recess is over.” He smiles softly at you. “Why don’t you go first?”

Your voice is even softer because now Jake and Javy have found you and are standing within earshot. “I need to apologize to you, Bradley. God, I should have ensured the flight crew knew not to leave your jet unattended. I should have had a member of my team remove the ignition or disable the flight computer. Something, anything. Because seeing you crash like that was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It was the worst thing I’ve ever felt.”

“I’m so sorry, Bradley.” You’re sniffling when you fall silent, rooting around in a pocket for a tissue.

You get handed a handkerchief, starched and pure white instead. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. I’ve been rude to you since the night we met. Truly, it’s because I was jealous.” He runs his hands through his hair in a frustrated motion. “That first night, I don’t know if you remember it, but when I met you at the bar, I could have sworn I felt something special. Something miraculous. I thought you were my soulmate. Then Jake found you in the aftermath of that bar fight, and I saw red. In those few moments, you shook me to my core. I’d sworn I would never find my soulmate, and I promised that if I ever found my soul, I’d never let them go.”

Your heart feels like it’s in overdrive. Did he just say what you think he did? There’s no way. How has he never realized that the dreams he’s had are about you?

“But I did. Sweetheart, I let you go that night, then again every time I saw you on Base. I never should have let you go. Please forgive me. You deserve so much better than the platonic soulmate you got, sweetheart. But I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise you that.”

You know you’re in a nightmare now. What about the dreams made it seem platonic to him? Maybe his dreams were different from yours because you’ve ended up naked in nearly all of them! But you can’t focus on that when your career is at risk.

“So you know?” Your voice is a little accusatory, a little angry, and a little sad. “You knew I was your soulmate, and you didn’t say anything?”

Your words make the sheepish grin on his face drop. “I-I…” But you don’t let him stutter out platitudes and even more apologies.

“I’ve been looking for you for most of my life, Bradley!” Your hands shake as you twist them in your lap, crushing the handkerchief in your fingers. “You…. only you. I thought you could never hurt your soulmate. The thoughts have been consuming me for months. What will you do if he dies? What will happen if he doesn’t remember you? What if he’s not yours? Why? Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you think it was okay to leave me waiting? To leave me not knowing?”

One big hand covers your cold fingers, carefully disentangling the kerchief. “I was scared, sweetheart. Terrified. I don’t have a good track record with soulmates. My parents were soulmates, and it destroyed my mom when my dad died. Here I am, doing the same thing he did. I couldn’t put another soul through what my mama went through. So when I got my marks, I pushed them to the back of my mind. I ignored all of the signs that a girl could be my soulmate - including the night I met you. You were the hardest to ignore, sweetheart. I wish I’d never done so because that wouldn’t have given Hawk a reason to target you like he did.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make, Bradley. That choice was mine. How dare you rob me of the choice of having the happiness your parents must have felt? This is my life, too, Bradshaw. Platonic or Romantic, you had no right to do that.” His gasp is audible as you look right into his eyes. “But I forgive you. So long as you promise never to do that again, we’ll be okay. But you’ll only get a second chance, not a third one.”

You stand up, carefully folding up the kerchief and pressing it into the breast pocket of Bradley’s suit. You dip down and gently kiss his cheek, tracing your fingers over one of the new scars. “As far as Hawk is concerned, I don’t think there is a single thing you could have done to stop him. He’s hated me since I told him off during the AMDO inspection - something I was well within my rights to do. This inquiry will prove that. I know it will. Give ‘em hell, Bradshaw.”

You’re smiling as you rejoin Commanders Marks and Greybank outside of the room, especially since you hear Bradley, Jake, and Javy coming up behind you. A big hand squeezes yours in passing, and you brace yourself to go once more unto the breach.

Bradley looks worn and tired as he takes the oath. He says each word emotionlessly, like he can’t bear to go over the accident, to relive the pain he was in.

“Do you believe the Lieutenant Commander released your jet purposefully?” Commander Wilson may be expressionless, but Hawk’s not as he catches your eye across the room.

“Objection! Leading Question!” Commander Greybanks doesn’t let the question get very far, though.

“Sustained.” Admiral Kazansky rubs at his temples as he dismisses the question. “The question is struck from the record. Commander Wilson, refrain from using leading questions, please.”

“Yes, sir. Lieutenant Bradshaw, who released your jet for use that day?”

The entire room seems to lean forward in their seats. There isn’t a sound in the room. Bradley makes direct eye contact with you before he rises to his full height in the chair.

“Nobody did, sir.” Three innocuous words which set the courtroom murmuring. Commanders Marks and Greybanks look nearly elated as they confer in hushed tones beside you. But you have eyes only for your soulmate.

“Then why did you get into your jet?” Commander Wilson’s wheeling. The biggest piece of evidence against you just dissipated in front of the prosecution’s eyes.

“I wanted to fly, sir. I wanted to prove that I had what it takes to fly the mission we were training for. It didn’t feel right that I was grounded while the remainder of my squad were allowed to show what they’re made of.”

Bradley’s chuckles are self-deprecating. “Of course, nobody from my squadron had the chance to fly due to my actions.”

“You are sure that the Lieutenant Commander stated there was a problem in the front-landing gear?”

“Objection! What’s the relevance of this question?”

“Admiral, if Lieutenant Bradshaw assumed a problem with the front landing gear, then conceivably, he could have completed the training maneuvers successfully. He merely would have had a hard landing. There would not have been a multi-million dollar explosion in the hills of San Diego, nor would there have been a lengthy stay in the hospital.”

“Objection overruled. Lieutenant Bradshaw, please answer the question.” Admiral Kazansky’s turned the full force of his green eyes to Bradley now.

“Per the maintenance report the Lieutenant Commander sent to me, as well as the parts requisition forms, the defect in my F/A-18 was a defective front landing gear.”

“I have no further questions.” Commander Wilson settles back into his seat as Commander Greybank stands up. “Defense’s witness.”

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, what happened once you took off?” 

“I relayed my coordinates to the group I was supposed to be flying with and joined the exercise. Everything was fine until after the simulated bombing run. As we were flying back in formation, everything in my jet started showing error signs. First, the left engine went out. Re-igniting did nothing. Then the radar conked out. Finally, I lost control. I saw flashing red on every instrument as the plane sank lower and lower. I kept trying to salvage the situation. But nothing I did helped. I pulled the ejection cords a little too late, and the doctors told me that I was engulfed by the fireball my jet created as it made contact with the hill. I don’t remember that part, Commander.”

You’re seeing the fireball in the distance again, hearing Bradley’s comms go dark and feeling his pain. Your hand shakes as you reach for your glass of water. This must be torture, or divine retribution because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to hear what Bradley went through without getting a little light-headed.

“I understand that might have been a harrowing ordeal. Do you believe the Lieutenant Commander caused the incident?”

“I do not. The accident was due to my own stupidity. The Lieutenant Commander forwarded the parts requisition form and the maintenance report to me that day. She also informed me when the parts were likely to be available. However, I would love to know what caused my engines to malfunction over the desert that day. Under the Lieutenant Commander’s careful watch, North Island has seen fewer aircraft malfunctions over the past six months than over the same duration every year before her appointment to North Island.”

He winks subtly at you as he says the words, chest puffing out in pride at your accomplishments.

“How do you know that?” Commander Greybank is smiling slightly as he says the words as well.

“I’ve been cleared for light duty over the past two weeks. As such, I’ve been working in the records room filing reports for the Admiralty, including the AMDO reports. It was a matter of a few hours to collect the statistics on AMDO inspections. They were given to Admirals Bates, Simpson, and Mitchell as a report.” Bradley’s smirking victoriously at Hawk, and it doesn’t surprise you at all to see how red he’s getting.

“We have a copy of that report to present to the panel as evidence.” Commander Greybank passes the documents to each member of the panel.

“We have no further questions for Lieutenant Bradshaw. However, we’d like to recall Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor at this time. We'd like to present a new piece of evidence to the panel, which we’d like him to answer some questions on.”

“Motion granted. Lieutenant Bradshaw, you may return to your seat.” Admiral Kazansky’s eyes flash with a hungry look as Bradley salutes him and the panel sharply before clambering back to his seat. This is going to be good. Hawk deserves everything that is coming to him and more.

Once he’s been sworn in again, Commander Marks hands a flash drive to the Admiral. A TV is brought out under Admiral Kazansky’s gimlet gaze, and the drive is plugged in. The video is without audio but clearly shows Hangar Two, specifically Bradley’s jet. It feels weird seeing yourself on camera like that. Does your hair always stick up in the back like that when you run your fingers through it? But you forget about that when the screen shows you leaving the Hangar and talking to Lieutenant Green shortly before 8 AM. Marissa hadn’t left you alone until you’d agreed to get a cup of coffee, at the very least, with her before training started for the day. Your knuckles are white as you clutch your hands together under the table. The camera ticks forward five minutes, then ten, then fifteen. That’s when someone enters the Hangar and straps something into the front landing gear housing. It’s small and metallic. A techno-bomb of some sort, maybe? But far more damning is how the individual fails to hide their face or their patches as they turn to exit the Hangar.

There’s panic on Hawk’s face sitting in front of the panel now. It can’t be easy to see yourself sabotage a superior officer’s plane in front of the COMPACFLT of the US Navy and twenty other higher-ranking officers, all with righteous rage in their eyes.

“In light of this evidence, Admiral Kazansky, we move to dismiss this inquiry and would request that Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor be remanded into the US Navy’s custody pending a Court Martial hearing for sabotage.” There’s a sly grin on Commander Mark’s face as she requests your release.

“What? No!” Hawk’s yell sets the already agitated Naval Personnel into whispering in earnest. “Why are you arresting me?! She’s the dumb bitch who made a mistake! She should be facing a court martial! Everyone knows that women can’t withstand the pressure of being in the Navy! She’s proof, as is that cunt Lieutenant Green. Nobody gives a fuck that they know the NATOPS of the F/A-18 as well as the F-22 and F-35! They’re just here to be diversity hires. Both of them and every other woman in the Navy, Lieutenant Trace included, are probably fucking their way to the top.”

That’s about when Nat launches herself across the room, landing punch after punch to Hawk’s person before Jake and Javy haul her away - though you’re sure they don’t until Nat’s gotten a few good jabs to Hawk’s nether region. The Daggers, as a whole, are bristling with rage. But nobody seems to be angrier than Admiral Kazansky. One firm whistle and the room falls silent.

“That is enough!” Admiral Kazansky is so angry that it feels like the entire room is shrouded in ice. “Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor, consider this an order. Shut your mouth. You are showing yourself to be a disgrace to your wings and the US Navy. I hereby remand you into the Navy’s custody until your court martial hearing.”

“Lieutenant Trace, report to Admiral Mitchell at 0900 hours tomorrow for the consequences of conduct unbecoming a US Navy Lieutenant in this inquiry.”

“Commander Marks, your request is approved. Lieutenant Commander, you are hereby found not culpable for Lieutenant Bradshaw’s accident on December 18th. We expect to see you back at North Island in your full capacity tomorrow morning at 0900 hours sharp!”

As he stands, the entire room stands in respect and salutes, waiting until the aged man returns the salute before he walks away. It’s over. You’re free. Commander Marks and Greybanks even have cease and desist orders on behalf of the US Navy against the paparazzi on your front lawn. You can go home now. Even better, there might just be something new brewing with your soulmate. 

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

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If your username is crossed out, that means that I wasn't able to tag you!

[lboogie1906]

Jurist Joseph Woodrow Hatchett (September 17, 1932 – April 30, 2021) was a lawyer and judge. He worked in private practice, was a US Circuit Judge of the US Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit and Eleventh Circuit, and served on the Florida Supreme Court.

He was born in Clearwater, Florida. He graduated from FAMU with a BA. He served in the Army as a lieutenant. He graduated from Howard University School of Law with a JD. He was a cooperating attorney for the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. He served in the Marine Corps Reserve as a lieutenant colonel and judge advocate. He was a consultant for the Daytona Beach Urban Renewal Department. He was an Assistant US Attorney for the Middle District of Florida. He was the First Assistant US Attorney. He was a special hearing officer for conscientious objectors in the Department of Justice.

Governor Askew appointed him to an associate justice seat on the Florida Supreme Court. Retained in office in the general election. He was the first African American to serve as a Florida Supreme Court Justice and the first retained on the Florida Supreme Court in a statewide election. He served as a Magistrate of the United States District Court for the Middle District of Florida before being appointed to the Florida Supreme Court.

He was nominated by President Jimmy Carter to the Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit. His service was terminated due to reassignment to the Eleventh Circuit. He was the first African American to serve on a Federal Appeals Court in the Deep South. He served as Chief Judge. He was a Member of the Judicial Conference of the US.

He held an honorary Doctor of Laws (LL.D.) from four institutions, including Florida Memorial College, Stetson Law School, Florida A&M University, and Howard University. An effort to honor him by renaming the United States Courthouse in Tallahassee after him. President Joe Biden signed the measure into law through the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act on June 25, 2022.

He was preceded in death by his wife Betty but is survived by their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[journeyneverends]

October 6, 2024

Moosburg Germany

Stalag Luft VII-A

The best journeys answer questions that in the beginning you didn’t even think to ask

Jeff Johnson

Dear Little Mosey:

I thought you may find these pictures interesting and some more information on the long march.

Here is how one source described the experience

The march, often referred to as the "Long March" or "Sagan March," took place in severe winter conditions. Approximately 10,000 prisoners were forced to march over 600 kilometers (about 370 miles) to Stalag Luft VII-A in Moosburg, Germany.

The conditions during the march were brutal, with many prisoners suffering from exposure, starvation, and exhaustion. The guards were often indifferent to the suffering of the POWs, and some prisoners were shot for falling behind or attempting to escape.

Here are some pictures of what is was like for your great step grandfather at the end of the long winter forced march.

Here is the road coming into Moosburg now

Conditions at the final camp were not good.

Each guy was issued a tag

Eventually the camp was liberated on April 29, 1945

I was able to see the original buildings

The morning after the end of my journey I noticed a girl with this tattoo. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Here is a picture of your great step grandfather after he came back from the war. He went to school and got a law degree and went back into the air force with the Office of Special Intelligence ( OSI ). He then joined the JAG corp (Judge Advocate General) He eventually became a Lt. Colonel. Here is his picture.

I heard you have been under the weather. I hope you feel better soon.

Love you little buddy

[tieflingkisser]

[26 Jan 2023] Ron DeSantis accused of illegal acts of torture against Guantanamo detainees when he was a Navy JAG officer

Before he was governor, before he was a congressman, Ron DeSantis was a Lt. Commander and JAG lawyer in the U.S. Navy, serving at the Guantanamo Bay terrorist detention camp in Cuba and Fallujah during the Iraq War.

[...]

Forty-two pages of heavily censored U.S. Navy records released to the Florida Phoenix during DeSantis’s 2018 gubernatorial campaign say his naval duties included things like assistant urinalysis coordinator. At Guantanamo, where hundreds of people scooped up in the George W. Bush administration’s post 9/11 War on Terror were held indefinitely without trial and amid multiple allegations of torture by the International Committee of the Red Cross and others, the Phoenix reported the records showed that from March 2006 through early January 2007 “DeSantis’s primary duty was a trial counsel – meaning a prosecutor. The record also showed that DeSantis was described as a ‘JTF-GTMO [Joint Task Force Guantanamo] scheduler/administrative officer.’” No further details were released. The Tampa Bay Times reported the same year that several retired naval officers who served at the detention camp at the same time as DeSantis, including some who worked with him, said his role with the Judge Advocate General (JAG) corps of military lawyers “was to advocate for the fair and humane treatment of the detainees to ensure the U.S. military complied with the law.”

DESANTIS’S ALLEGEDLY DARK ROLE AT GUANTANAMO

Now, however, an ex-Guantanamo detainee has come forward to allege that DeSantis actually had a much darker role at Gitmo. And his disturbing accusations about DeSantis have yet to be reported by any national or Florida-based news outlet despite the governor’s well-known presidential ambitions. Mansoor Adayfi, formerly detainee #441 and also known as Abdul Rahman Ahmed, says JAG Officer Ron DeSantis observed, allowed and participated in illegal acts of torture to help put down a hunger strike in 2006 by dozens of detainees protesting their detention. DeSantis also covered up the torture, Adayfi says. The Yemen-born Adayfi, held for 14 years without charges, was released in 2016 and flown to Serbia to start a new life after a review board determined he was not a threat to the U.S. He made his allegations about DeSantis in a Nov. 18 [2022] interview podcast of Eyes Left, hosted by U.S. Army veteran and anti-war activist Michael Prysner, a graduate of Florida Atlantic University.

[...]

Adayfi, now 44, said DeSantis watched with amusement as he and other detainees were repeatedly force-fed Ensure, a “meal replacement” shake, through a nasal feeding tube pushed down their throats.

‘I THREW UP ON HIS FACE’

“Ron DeSantis was there and watching us. We were crying, screaming. We were tied to the feeding chair and that guy; he was watching that. He was laughing basically when they used to feed us, because…our stomach cannot hold this amount of Ensure. They used to pour Ensure, one can after another, one can after another. So, when he approached me, I said this is the way we are treated. He said, ‘You should start to eat.’ …I threw up on his face. Literally on his face.”

[dailyanarchistposts]

Law Day/USA

Yet, May Day was always a troubling day in America; some wished to forget it. In 1939 Pennsylvania declared it "Americanism Day." In 1947 Congress declared it to be "Loyalty Day." Yet, these attempts to hide the meaning of the day have never succeeded. As the Wobblies say, "We Never Forget."

Like in 1958, at the urging of Charles Rhyne, proclaimed May First "Law Day/U.S.A." As a result the politicians had another opportunity for bombast about the Cold War and to tout their own virtues. Senator Javits, for instance, took a deep historical breath in May 1960 by saying American ideas were the highest "ever espoused since the dawn of civilization. Governor Rockefeller of New York got right to his point by saying that the traditional May Day "bordered on treason." As an activity for the day Senator Wiley recommended that people read Statute Books. In preaching on "Obedience to Authority" on May Day 1960, the Chaplain of the Senate believed it was the first time in the 20th century that the subject had been addressed. He reminded people of the words carved on the courthouse in Worcester, Massachusetts: "Obedience to Law is Liberty." He said God is "all law" and suggested we sing the hymn, "Make Me a Captive, Lord, and Then I shall be Free." He complained that TV shows made fun of cops and husbands. He said God had become too maternal.

Beneath the hypocrisy of such talk (at the time the Senate was rejecting the jurisdiction of the World Court), there were indications of the revolt in the kitchens. In addition to the trumpeting Cold War overtones, frightened patriarchal undertones were essential to the Law Day music. Indeed, it attempted to drown out both the Red and the Green. Those who have to face the law and order music on a daily basis, the lawyers and the orderers, also have to make their own deals.

Among the lawyers there are conservatives and liberals; they are generally ideologues. On Law Day 1964 the President of the Connecticut Bar wrote against civil rights demonstrators, "corrupt" labor unions, "juvenile delinquency," and Liz Taylor! William O. Douglas, on the other hand on Law Day 1962 warned against mimicking British imperialism and favored independence movements and the Peace Corps by saying "We need Michigan-in- Nigeria, California-in-the-Congo, Columbia-in-Iran" which has come true, at least judging by what's written on sweat shirts around the world. Neither the conservative nor the liberal, however, said it should be a holiday for the lawyers, nor did they advocate the 8- hour day for the workers of the legal apparatus. In Boston only the New England School of Law, the Law and Justice Program at UMass., and the College of Public and Community Service celebrate the Green and the Red.

Among the orderers (the police) Law Day isn't much of a holiday either. Yet, police, men and women, all over the United States owe a lot to May Day and the Boston police. It is true that more than 1,000 Boston men of blue lost their jobs owing to Calvin Coolidge's suppression of the Boston police strike of 1919. They had been busy earlier in the summer during May Day. At the same time there were lasting gains: a small pay increase ($300 a year), shorter hours (73-90 a week had been the norm), and most important, free uniforms!

[mistydeyes]

Hey I was hoping I could get a cod pairing? Sorry I haven’t done this before.

Umm as for appearance I am 5’4” I have layered curly brown hair that comes to just above my shoulder, blue eyes, freckles pale as hell, a few scars here and there that I’m kinda proud of (from various causes) I don’t really have a specific style it can range from a tank top and sweats to t-shirt and jeans or something completely wild, color coded decked out in jewelry, skirts, layers the whole bit. Relatively active build, used to be a gymnast until an injury now I just workout twice a week w a friend. Interests; I like movies top five rn probably Scream (1996), Spiderverse, 10 things I hate about you, the last unicorn, Dead poets society, +Star Wars cause I can’t leave it out. I like playing chess every now and then, I’d say I’m pretty good but I still have a ways to go. I’m also an artist, and I like music I can’t do anything music related I just like listening to it, all kinds. I like baking when I’m stressed, typically cookies during finals week at 2 am. My future prospects, or at least what they are currently, is just going to law school, after that I’m not really sure, I’ve thought ab going the military route, both of my parents served/are serving, so I’ve thought ab the possibility of being a military JAG or something in Intel, but I’m still feeling for it, I mostly like law cause I’m pretty good at it and I like knowing more than people. I’m Bi so my taste in Men/Women varies. As much as I’d like to say I don’t have a type, hot people are hot, there have been patterns in the past few fictional guys. Tbh my taste in men is shit, like I don’t have daddy issues, I have a great relationship with him, but my past fictional crushes say other wise. But basically, capability is HOT, if they’re good at something to the point of mastering it I’m entranced. Women are just pretty, there’s not much there. I’m relatively paranoid, even describing myself like this online is strange, I think it’s just growing up around military but I’m typically just cautious. That and trust issues. I’ve done some martial arts/self defense and I think sparring is really fun I just need someone to teach me. Also I am a huge simp (with shit taste as my friends say) I’m an ambiavert, so I like to be pretty adaptable depending on who I’m around. I’m also German/American but more American than anything else, I ‘grew up’ in south Germany and we still have family there but since we moved here I’ve forgotten most of it. JFC in hindsight I am SO SORRY about all this I got carried away. I hope it didn’t come across as self absorbed 😅😭 sorry again

thanks

John Price

a/n omg at one point of time i thought of going to law school instead of pharmacy so this was so interesting to see what could've been lol

How you met: Civilian as of rn ;) Here you stood, a second year of law school done and accepted into the US Army Judge Advocate General's Corps. Or I guess I should say, here you were physically but not mentally. When you applied from your cozy apartment, you hadn't expected the internship program to be such a challenge. But here you were in your second choice location of Washington DC (curse whoever got the Germany placement). It was your second day and you were already tired from the 6am wakeup time followed by whatever your trainer saw fit. Today was a grueling 4-mile run. Needless to say, you were exhausted by the time you entered the Military Justice office. As you entered, your attorney joked, "you look like hell." You rolled your eyes and tried to smooth out your hair. "Here take a break and make some copies for us," as he handed you a pile of papers. You looked and saw they were drafts for an attorney's prosecution memoranda. You left to make your way to the copier when you bumped head first into something. As you looked up, you realized it was a someone. Somehow this man had miraculously caught all your papers. "Sorry love, perhaps you could tell me where I would find a General Shepherd's office?" he asked in an enchanting, deep accent. You could feel the air fill with cigar smoke with each word. You silently pointed in the direction of the office and the man went on his way. "It gets easier, soldier, someday you'll be an officer," he called out and you smiled as you got up from the floor.

A peek into your relationship: This was the big day, your graduation from law school. Your time during your internship had paid off, many officers impressed by your ability to keep up with the trainings and your eloquent legal drafts. You sat in your seat nervously and twirled a loose curl as they prepared to call your name. Finally, it was time. As you walked on stage and prepared to get your hood, you could instantly hear your boyfriend cheering you on loudly. "That's my girl!" he shouted and you gave him a kiss from the stage, finally a lawyer. When the ceremony had finished, Price was the first one to greet you. He had dressed in a suit for the occasion but this didn't deter him from picking you up and spinning you around. "I'm so proud of you," he said before planting a soft kiss on your lips.

[ao3feed-jag]

J.A.G.

by EmmaElix "Typically, JAG Officers didn't visit naval aviation bases. At least not for reasons other than fights and the occasional dispute over who's plane goes where. Which was why the arrival of 1st Lieutenant Jeanine Grant, Judge Advocate General Corps, was setting the base abuzz." Or, I introduce a new character under the guise of the Navy finally getting fed up with Mav. Follows the storyline of Ice Storm but I don't think the other three works are required reading before you read this part. Knowledge of JAG isn't necessary but Top Gun kind of is in order for this to make sense. Words: 1809, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 4 of Ice Storm Fandoms: Top Gun (Movies), JAG (TV 1995) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Original Female Character(s), Robert "Bob" Floyd, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Harmon Rabb Jr. Relationships: Jake "Hangman" Seresin/Original Female Character(s), Robert "Bob" Floyd/Original Female Character(s), Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie/Harmon Rabb Jr. (mentioned) Additional Tags: a crossover of Top Gun and JAG because why not, with all the rules Mav breaks it's probably not a bad idea tbh, slight canon erasure, but it's okay because I don't think the Mac/Harm shippers enjoyed the ending of JAG anyway, at the very least I didn't via https://ift.tt/BiQ1yc9

[veteranlegal]

The Judge Advocate General's (JAG) Corps is the legal arm of the military, playing a pivotal role in maintaining the balance between military discipline and justice. JAG military lawyers are essential in providing legal support to service members, commanders, and the Department of Defense (DoD), ensuring that military laws are upheld while safeguarding the rights of those in uniform.

[delusionaldoxie2]

Facebook META blocked, I see why. That’s where Zuckerberg, lady Gaga others were sent . they can’t have people knowing Zuckerberg was executed. They tell people he bought a mansion in Hawaii, living happily ever after🤣 ****MILITARY TRIBUNALS held in TIERRA DEL FUEGO

https://dachsiedawg1.substack.com/p/us-military-to-hold-military-tribunals?r=30cc7a U.S. Military to hold “Military Tribunals” in Tierra del Fuego  https://realrawnews.com/2021/05/u-s-military-to-hold-military-tribunals-in-tiera-del-fuego/ PROFESSORJJ May 29, 2021 The U.S. military and the Navy’s Judge Advocate General’s Corps have established a new venue to hold military tribunals for the…

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Eye on SD Unified

Consent form revives debate over San Diego Unified's JROTC program

The San Diego Unified School District has made changes to its Junior Reserve Officers’ Training Corps since Chicano students began campaigning for reform in 2008.

They removed shooting ranges from schools, and last year they began requiring a consent form on file for every participating student.

But San Diego Chicano/Latino Concilio on Higher Education leaders still have concerns.

They sent a letter to the Board of Education this summer, stating the form still doesn't provide students with all the information needed for fully informed consent.

It doesn’t specify that JROTC doesn’t meet any of the A-G requirements for California’s public universities, or that it’s taught by retired military officers.

Jennifer Roberson, senior director of the district’s Office of Graduation, said this year’s consent form was already distributed to schools, but they’re open to continuing conversations and possible changes to the form’s language for next year.

She said JROTC exists because students want it.

“Students are opting to be in the program. They know that it's voluntary, it's not required. But we do believe that the skills that they're being taught do prepare them to be future ready,” she said.

She said the district does work with schools to increase enrollment in JROTC when it falls below the minimum required to keep the program.

The military-sponsored class offers three days per week of physical education, one day of training on skills like leadership, financial literacy and first aid, and one day where students practice drills and marching in uniform.

Morse High School senior and JROTC member Joseph Cruz said JROTC gave him much-needed initiative after graduating middle school during the pandemic left him feeling lost.

“It’s given me the initiative I needed to pursue greater things,” he said.

In his sophomore year, he was chosen to lead about 50 students as Company First Sergeant.

“Being able to have that daily exposure as a leader, having that experience, it's really built me up,” he said.

He’s considering studying law at a military academy to pursue a dream career of being a judge advocate general (JAG) officer.

He said recruiters come to his class often to talk about the wide range of careers in the military and their benefits.

Retired Lt. Col. Mark Ayson, Hoover High’s senior army instructor, said JROTC did start as a recruiting tool, but evolved after the Vietnam War into “more of a leadership development class.”

School staff emphasize the class is about leadership and character development, not military recruitment.

But the effect might be the same.

Last year, an Army-sponsored study found that Army JROTC students are less likely to enroll in college after graduating high school, and those who don’t are more likely to join the military.

That’s concerning to local Chicano community leaders, because in the San Diego Unified school district, schools with a higher percentage of nonwhite students have much higher rates of JROTC enrollment.

The Project on Youth and Non-Military Opportunities analyzed school district enrollment data for 2022.

At Lincoln High — where nearly all students are nonwhite — more than a third of students enrolled in JRTOC.

At majority-white Point Loma High, that rate was just 5%.

La Jolla High, in one of the district’s wealthiest neighborhoods, doesn’t have a JROTC program.

Davíd Morales was part of the student movement against JROTC in 2008.

Now, he’s a counter-recruitment activist, pursuing a Ph.D. in racial inequalities in education at Stanford.

He said there’s a reason JROTC programs have lower enrollment at schools in wealthier neighborhoods.

“You have parents who are much more involved because they have the means and privilege to be involved and aware of what's happening. And they're not going to stand for their kids being constantly harassed by military recruiters or being pitched a job in the military,” he said.

He said students in lower-income areas are also more susceptible to what he called the deception of military recruiters.

“It is true that for some people, some communities, the options are limited, and that's unfortunate. And they are very much more open to being, or likely are easier to target by recruiters because of this situation. We think this is predatory,” he said. “We've called this a Poverty Draft in some cases.”

He said alternatives to JROTC should be explored.

“There are other ways to engage in practice discipline that do not include weapons and blindly obeying and following orders that instead encourage critical thinking skills,” he said. “That does not include careers in war-making.”

“We must instead focus on careers for peace and social justice,” he said.

His sentiments were shared by other local members of the Project on Youth and Non-Military Opportunities and the Chicano/Latino Concilio on Higher Education.

They are calling for an evidence-based review of the effectiveness of the JROTC program. *Reposted article from KPBS by Katie Hyson on August 12, 2024