Page 14 of Never Forget

Halfway through the second show, counter-protestors wearing red hats and mismatched camouflage gear, their faces covered, stop heckling the band from the sidelines and start heckling the crowd instead. They’re getting in people’s faces, yelling who knows what. They’re disrupting the peace, especially in the parts of the crowd overflowing into the park and side street. It’s immediately obvious that they are purposefully trying to instigate fights.

Cory has the security team stay close to the stage area, but each of us is also responsible for managing the teams of hired security that walk around the crowd to make sure there aren’t any issues. The mounting tension caused by these hecklers has us all on edge.

This loud spectacle and fired up response is exactly what the band wanted, but the problematic behavior of the counter-protestors is turning the energy negative.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise. The more popular a resistance like this gets, the louder the opposition.

Fights break out in the crowd, and the police start stepping in, which doesn’t help. It only escalates the tension, and people start getting hurt.

The very last show is the largest by far. There are people as far as the eye can see, overflowing the streets and every surface within a half-mile radius. I doubt all the participants can even hear the music, but Jesse does a good job of keeping the crowd pumped and happy, making sure to interact with even the farthest sections he can see. For a while, his assurances that the hecklers will get bored works, and people do their best to ignore them. But there are more of them than at any of the previous shows, and it takes even less time than usual for them to get physical with the crowd. Fights start breaking out, and with the local police and the unmarked, masked agents standing around the perimeter in what looks like riot gear, I know this could get ugly fast.

In my periphery, I notice one of the counter-protestors harassing a young girl wearing a trans flag as a cape. Her friends are trying to defend her, pushing back against the insults, but they’re not much more than kids. She reminds me a bit of my sister with her freckles and dark auburn hair.

That’s when I see it. A glint of metal pulled from one of the masked protestor’s pockets. A switchblade catching the light of the sun before the young girl is too close and gets pushed into his hold. I’m jumping over the barrier and running towards them before I make a conscious decision to do so.

By the time I reach them, the asshole has cut the front of the girl’s dress open. I hear him say something about seeing what she’s got under there, and I see red. I tackle him to the ground at full speed, putting him down like a linebacker and grappling for the knife first. Once I’ve gotten the weapon off him, I hold him on the ground with my forearm pressed against his throat and rip the mask off his head.

“You disgusting piece of shit. What the fuck gives you the right,” I growl. I’m so mad my vision is blurring and I can feel my blood pressure skyrocket.

It’s not until I hear one of the girl’s friends say there’s a cop coming that I flip the asshole onto his stomach and wrestle his arms behind his back. When the officer makes it to us, he stares at us dumbfounded for a moment before getting his head out of his ass. Continuing to hold the fucker down, I explain the situation to the officer and let him take over.

I check on the girl, whose name is Riley. She’s understandably shaken up and upset, but I manage to make her smile a little by telling her we share a name. I escort Riley and her friends closer to the side of the stage, where I hand her a signed t-shirt to wear before taking them to the medical tent where there’s an officer waiting to take her statement.

As I’m standing there, I watch smaller skirmishes break out in the crowd. Pushing, screaming, fistfights, and what looks like an all-out brawl start before my very eyes. Our hired security and the cops not standing with the riot brigade are doing their best to keep the peace, but I have a tingling feeling that things are about to go from bad to worse. The riot douches have been waiting for any excuse to step in, and now they have it.

Making sure Riley and her friends are secure, I head back to my place near the band. Closer to him, where I’m supposed to be. I know the other guys have my back and are perfectly capable of keeping the band safe, but I can’t imagine not being there if things get out of control, and I have a feeling they’re about to get pretty bad.

As I round the back of the stage, I notice Blake in a stand-off with several officers. He’s holding up papers, probably permits, and standing his ground against whatever they’re saying. My guess is they’re trying to shut us down, likely due to the massive overflow of what were peaceful protestors. Only, things are taking a turn for the worst with the hecklers and fights breaking out.

“Shut it down, or we’ll do it for you!” I hear one of the officers yell.

I leave the scene behind and make my way to the front of the stage. The band is between songs, with only three left on the set list. Jesse is trying to direct some of the riot police, who are pushing back peaceful protestors rather than doing anything about the actual troublemakers, to actually help and quit harassing the crowd. He repeatedly tells the crowd, “Stay cool, don’t give them what they want.”

Several of our hired hands and a handful of not-shitty cops who are actually here to do their jobs run towards the brawl, but the sound of the riot police moving in gets our attention.

Jesse turns and nods to Naz to start the next song. Instead of the song I know is next on the set list, the opening riffs of their new anti-establishment protest song ring out and reverberate in the air. A roar of approval goes up, and the whole crowd begins to sing along, pushing back against the police as they try to disperse the crowd.

I’m not surprised to hear What’s It Gonna Be set against the backdrop of an onslaught of the untrained brute force nobody asked for, screams, chanting, and smoke grenades.

Chaos erupts as a wave of masked so-called police rush in, doing nothing but making the situation worse.

And the band keeps playing.

Unknown: Security doesn’t pay well enough for what they put you through.

Unknown: I can help. Text me back.

—number blocked⁠—

Hours later, we’re all sitting around a conference table at the hotel we’re staying in, debriefing with Blake, several members of the security team, and the chief of police. Blake just finished a one-on-one with Officer Lund, who I’ve been calling Officer Thumb in my head because he, well, looks like a thumb. He’s completely bald, with no neck or chin to speak of, and a nearly expressionless face I kind of want to close in a door jamb.

“We’re being cited for failure to comply with emergency dispersal orders, inciting unlawful assembly, public nuisance, and obstruction of law enforcement operations.”

“That’s bullshit,” Will says, getting to his feet.

“Will, sit down and let me take care of this,” Blake says calmly. Will sits with a huff and glares at the officer.

Turning to the chief, Blake says, as calmly and professionally as one can, “With all due respect, he’s not wrong. This is bullshit. Yes, we were given an order to stop, but without good reason before your people moved in and caused chaos. Not only that, but we weren’t given a proper chance to comply. The band didn’t know what conversation we were having behind the scenes, so it’s not their fault they hadn’t stopped yet. There’s also the fact that they did, without being asked, cut their set list short⁠—”