Darby’s Nightmare

When it was revealed that Joseph Darby came forward about the torture and abuse at Abu Ghraib, many of his friends and neighbors turned on him and his family. I’m sure they all were listening to Rush and Sean who told them it was just “blowing off steam” and Senator Inhofe who said he was “outraged by the outrage.” This is the president’s base, the heart and soul of wingnut America:

Each day, she [wife, Bernadette Darby] would catch another snippet of the hostility brewing around her. There was the candlelight vigil in Cumberland, Maryland, to show support for the disgraced soldiers, including the ones who did the torturing, about a hundred supporters standing in the pounding rain, as if beating and sodomizing prisoners were some kind of patriotic duty. Or the 200 people who gathered one night in Hyndman, Pennsylvania, waving American flags to honor Sivits, the first soldier tried in the scandal. They posted a sign in Hyndman. It said JEREMY SIVITS, OUR HOMETOWN HERO. And the mayor told reporters that even though Sivits would sometimes do “a little devilish thing,” on the whole he was “a wonderful kid.”

Where were the signs for Joe? Bernadette had to wonder. Where was his vigil? Where was his happy mayor? Where were his calls of support? Down at the gas station, Clay overheard some guys say that Joe was “walking around with a bull’s-eye on his head,” just casually, just like, oh, everybody knows Joe’s dead. Some of Bernadette’s family even let her know that other members of the family were against her now, that they couldn’t support a traitor. The more Bernadette heard, the more paranoid she became. How serious was this? Her nerves were so fried from the media onslaught that she couldn’t be sure what was serious and what was just talk. Had those cops really ignored Maxine because they were against Joe? And if so, what else would they ignore?

[…]

When they got to Bernadette’s apartment in Corriganville, they went inside, and the cats rushed to Bernadette, and she held them in her arms and talked to them while Maxine and Clay tried to give her space.

And then the phone rang.

It was a major from the U.S. Army, and he was coming over. Within a few minutes, everything began to shift around Bernadette, and it was hard to tell what was happening. She found herself in the passenger seat of an unmarked government vehicle, speeding down the highway to some unknown destination, Clay’s truck right behind her with Maxine and the kids packed inside, the whole group snatched up by military protective custody without any prior warning or even a clear idea of why. Bernadette called Virginia and said, “We’re in protective custody now. I don’t know where we’re going, but we’ll call you when we get there.”

Mrs. Darby hadn’t heard from her husband, but he’d been taken into protective custody himself, sometime before. The military knew that his life was in danger.

You know, I don’t know how much more of this Bush administration-style honor and integrity this country can take.