The usual suspects are accomplices to Netanyahu’s destruction of Gaza 

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It’s New Year’s Day, and I’m hoping for one of those rare, uneventful ones, with nothing special to get done except for my weekly opinion column. With a little bit of luck, it should turn into the much-needed day of rest that I failed to get on Sunday’s New Year’s Eve.

So, what do I get? An early-morning call, asking me to look at a police lineup for a suspected murderer. After my “Who, me?” response, the officer on the phone announces, “You were one of the witnesses, so it’s time to finger the guy who did it.”

It’s not exactly what I wanted or expected, so going into the police station is going to throw a wrench into the works of my typically predictable schedule.

I leave my bathrobe on the bedroom floor, grab some pants and an already-worn pressed shirt and jump into my car. There’s a hint of oil smoke from a leaking valve cover gasket, and I’m frustrated that on cold mornings like this, it seems to take forever for the heater to warm up.

A cordial lady officer has me sit down in a small gallery and offers me water or a soft drink. But matters of such gravity as murder have not put me in the mood for a beverage. The lineup is a bit short. Only four men—no women—are standing behind the soundproof, one-way, protective glass barrier.

The first man in the lineup looks very familiar. His face is burned into the memory of every American. It’s Joe Biden. His choir-boy countenance inspires trust, and he’s always claimed to be of high moral character.

His presence makes me uncomfortable, for I know what I am required to do.

The second man looks like they dragged him in from the homeless encampment. He’s black, unshaven and his clothing is dirty and tattered. Though I can immediately determine that I’ve never seen him before, his identity merges in my mind with the thousands who are in the same New Year’s predicament—little hope for a prosperous new year, and greatly in need of the kindness of a hostile, blind and clueless, supposedly-humanitarian band of brothers.

The third man once again is someone I know well. His orange mock-appearing toupee is a dead giveaway. He isn’t satisfied to merely be part of the lineup. Instead, he’s spewing expletives and “poor me” accusations against the rule of law, lamenting how (I can’t make out all the words) something about an “election that was stolen” from him by corrupt election workers and the magic of dishonest voting machines.

“Number 3,” shouts the officer in charge, “please refrain from speaking unless you are asked to.” But number 3 just can't shut up: He blurts out a final, “Make America Better Again. Vote for Me-Me-Me.”

I notice that I seem to be suffering from a nausea attack, and the officer asks me if I need a break. “No,” I answer. “I want to get this over with as soon as possible.”

The number 4 suspect is someone I definitely recognize. He’s dressed in military fatigues; he is smiling, winks in my direction and appears confident that no one will point a finger at him. But it’s not that simple. The officer in charge turns on the suspect’s mike and orders, “OK, number 4, in your own, regular voice, please repeat the following words: ‘Our military is careful to minimize civilian casualties.’”

Yes, I know I’ve seen this guy and I’ve heard him say those same words. Then the officer issues a second order. “Now, suspect number 4, please repeat these words: ‘I won’t be happy until every one of those little bastards is dead.’” Suspect number 4 does as he’s asked and, though I never heard the man use those exact words, it sounds very familiar to me.

Now comes the moment of truth. The officer asks me to identify the murderer, and there’s no hesitation in my response. I point at number 1. I feel a bit guilty as I say it, but this is no time for showing allegiance to criminals: “Yes, number 1 was involved.”

“Thank you, sir,” says the officer. You have done your duty as a citizen.

“Yes,” I note, “but I’m not finished yet.”

“Numbers 3 and 4 were also involved in the murders. I saw it through my own eyes and heard it with my own ears.” Number 3 told number 4 to go ahead and keep kicking the guy in the gutter, but number 4 is the man who actually pulled the trigger. And, I must mention, that number 1 gave number 4 the gun.”

Lineups like this happen every day in police departments across the globe, and it is an accepted method of determining who’s implicated in crimes and who should be prosecuted.

Sadly, we are all witnesses to what is happening to Palestinians at the hands of the genocidal Israelis, and we are obligated to recognize the roles of those complicit in the ongoing mass murder of human beings.

Trump encouraged Netanyahu to continue allowing Israeli settlers to invade Gaza; Netanyahu will go down in history as one of its mass murderers; and Pres. Biden, because of his commitment to funding the debacle—sending unlimited aid and weapons to Israel—will also bear the shame.

The carnage in Gaza has been condemned by all—all but a couple of “rogue” nations. Shamefully, the U.S. is one of them. Americans must support the rule of law and the International Criminal Court if there is to be anything beyond lawlessness in our world.

It is time for the Gaza bloodbath to end. Now.

The author is a retired businessman, novelist, columnist and former Vietnam-era Army assistant public information officer. He resides in Riverton with his wife Carol and their adorable and ferocious “Poppy.” comments@cityweekly.net