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Chapter 1173: You Again?
🕑 Added 2025-06-11 20:00:04 +0000 UTCThe three-story library building of El Centro College had been completely surrounded—layer after layer of law enforcement—and the three FBI agents who had come to assist were ushered into a command vehicle being used as the temporary tactical center.
It was the same model as the one used by the Fugitive Task Force—built by Matman Inc. on a Freightliner MT-55 truck chassis. Judging by the paint job, it belonged to DPD.
The DPD SWAT team was already in position, using a loudspeaker to call out to the gunman on the second floor of the library. In return, the man stuck behind a hallway corner responded with garbled, off-key singing.
It had now been two hours since the shooting began. If this were a sports game, the outcome was already decided—now it was just garbage time.
"Thanks for the assist, FBI," said a plump police chief as he extended his hand to the three agents. But when he caught sight of Jack's face, his expression suddenly changed into something far more colorful.
"Ah! Not you again—uh, I mean, long time no see, Agent Tavoler!"
"Good to see you again, Chief David Brown. It's been a while." Jack shook hands with the middle-aged white man whose massive beer belly practically brushed the console.
"I didn't expect the next time we'd meet would be under such awkward circumstances. I hope Dallas hasn't left you with too bad an impression," said Chief Brown with a forced smile that barely stretched across his chubby cheeks.
Jack was surprised the chief recognized him. They'd only met once—during Jack's first trip to Dallas, when he had the misfortune of getting caught in a terrorist attack at a local supermarket (see Chapter 486).
Back then, Ranger Walker had been injured during a border patrol. Jack had been sent to visit him in place of Hannah. While picking up an electric toothbrush, he was nearly blown to bits by four suicide bombers.
That incident triggered Jack's second trip to Mexico. "Thanos" Matt had been killed during the ensuing operation.
During that bombing attack, Jack had rescued a baby and ended up in the hospital himself. Many people came to visit him—including the very man standing before him now.
"Just like last time, this seems to have been an unfortunate coincidence. My colleagues and I are here on an assignment from Attorney General Jackson," Jack said casually. But the statement had an important subtext that quickly eased the strain on Chief Brown's face.
It wasn't about throwing Jackson under the bus—it was a necessary clarification. Jack needed to make it crystal clear that the FBI had no prior involvement with this shooting.
It wouldn't be the first time federal agents showed up in a city unannounced and got tangled in some giant mess. And now, twice in Dallas, and both times with an FBI agent present? Of course Chief Brown would be suspicious.
But Jack wasn't about to play the "let the facts speak for themselves" game. He wasn't close enough to Jackson to take the fall—not even temporarily.
"Has the shooter been identified?" Jack asked now that they'd struck up a conversation.
There wasn't much more for the FBI to do here. It was clear now that the shooter had acted alone and had deliberately targeted DPD.
Even a small-town police department wouldn't take that lying down—let alone one in a major city like Dallas. Especially in a place like Texas, where the Second Amendment was practically a civic religion.
"He claims to be Micah Johnson. We're still digging into the details. He served in the Army Reserve and was deployed to Afghanistan."
Though technically leading the operation, Chief Brown wasn't the one issuing tactical orders—that fell to his subordinates—so he wasn't especially busy. He even took the initiative to update the FBI agents himself.
"He refuses to surrender and insists on speaking only to Black officers. Communication is nearly impossible. And as you've probably heard, his singing is atrocious."
He pointed at a screen displaying a live feed of the scene.
JJ, well aware of Jack's previous incident in Dallas—especially since they'd played "nurse and patient" afterward in the hospital—whispered the backstory to Aubrey. Then she asked the question they all had on their minds.
"We noticed bomb squad units on-site. Did the shooter plant any explosives?"
Chief Brown nodded. "We found a suspicious package in the underground parking garage. Micah Johnson also claimed he'd planted timed explosives both there and elsewhere downtown, but we believe he's bluffing."
Despite what he said, it was now clear to the FBI agents why DPD had surrounded the library but not stormed it.
Based on what they knew, Micah Johnson was clearly a suicide attacker. He saw himself as a martyr, with one goal: kill as many cops as possible.
And DPD? They weren't planning to take him alive. But they had to tread carefully—not just to avoid giving liberal media fodder to fan racial tensions, but also out of fear that he really did have explosives on him.
Micah Johnson was currently pinned at a hallway corner, blocked from both ends by SWAT teams. Snipers covered the windows. He had nowhere to run.
But his position posed problems for DPD as well. The snipers lacked a clear line of sight, and the SWAT officers in the hallway couldn't risk charging in.
Even a single grenade in that confined space would wreak havoc.
Too many officers had already died because of this guy. DPD wasn't looking to increase their funeral expenses. For now, the standoff would continue—waiting for him to "bleed out."
"I heard Agent Tavoler hit him once. Do we know where?" Chief Brown glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight—tension tightening the lines on his face.
Jack waved off the credit. "I hit him in the back, but the round was probably stopped by his armor. From the blood trail, his injuries don't seem severe."
And judging by his still-energetic, off-key singing, Jack was probably right—the guy had plenty of life left in him.
Unlike the ambush in Charlotte, Jack and his team hadn't played much of a role this time.
At first, the situation was chaotic. No one even knew how many attackers there were. Reinforcements kept arriving, making everything more confusing. Jack only had Aubrey and JJ with him, so they had to proceed cautiously.
By the time they reached the intersection, Micah Johnson was already in retreat, firing as he fell back.
Had it not been for the two campus officers who held the front entrance, preventing Johnson from storming the college and continuing his killing spree...
Or the officer who had tried—unsuccessfully but heroically—to flank him from behind...
Jack might not have even caught a glimpse of the shooter's back before he disappeared.
