The Washingtons (pilot)
Imagine a happy, classic American family: two parents, Reagan and Roosevelt (Rosy for short) Washington, two kids, Liberty and Unity, and a dog and maybe a cat. Let’s go ahead and put a goldfish and a guppy in a tank on the bar between the kitchen and dining room. One kid is in dance and the other in softball and the parents have a good marriage: not blissful everyday but not looking to make any trades either. Everybody is ok, content, and living their “best life now.” They know they’ve got it better than most families, and although they have their disagreements, in the end their love for one another and their common principles keep them together. Plus they have a nice car and and SUV with heated leather seats and power retractable running boards.
Two weekends later, the stranger’s partner is wearing a hoody in the clearance section of the same local Target, considering whether to buy the chocolate candy corn or the regular, when enters the family. Of course neither Reagan nor Rosy know who the hoody person is, and they are a little suspicious of head coverings other than baseball caps or cowboy hats, but no one pays much mind as they all go about their way. talking among themselves, they agree that one will go to the pharmacy, one will go to the grocery, one will go to the toys, and the other is going to the video games. Hoody overhears and texts Stranger, who is in the back of the store close to the holiday items, and Stranger casually heads for the video games. Taking a bandana soaked in propofol out of a ziplock bag in a pocket, Stranger finds one of the kids – Unity – at a back end cap in electronics, covers her mouth and nose with the bandana and walks her out the back door before the child slumps down into the back of a cargo truck. By this time, Hoody is there to help get the door shut and drive away.
About the time Stranger and Hoody are taking an on-ramp onto the interstate, the rest of the family meet up at the chips and soft drinks and begin to question where the fourth might be dawdling. After just a few minutes of looking down aisles, their pace picks up and panic begins to sprout. At first just seedlings in each member of the family, those seedlings quickly grow and pollinate through accusation and unintentional glances, and within 30 minutes they have become a forest of despair through which the family can hardly see one another with compassion.
After alerting security, who brings in law enforcement, a lock down and search of the store reveals nothing. The security monitors show a couple seconds of a cloaked figure
“I was carrying my glock, you know. I could have stopped this had I been back there,” says Reagan.
“But you weren’t. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have let her go by herself,” says Rosy.
“I’m supposed to protect my children. That’s my job. What else am I good for if I can’t even do that?” Reagan quips. Rosy, trying to find peace for both of them, reminds him that they’ve been there a hundred times and spread out the same way with no problem.
A week goes by in a daze. The story is on the news and people make every speculation in the book, including accusations against the parents for being everything from neglectful to deliberately criminal themselves. Reagan and Roosevelt, having never agreed on religion much before, are attending church together in a desperate effort to gain God’s intervention. Church members and neighbors are astonished at how this tragedy has pulled the family together and to God, but Reagan’s prayers are bouncing off the ceiling and Roosevelt is questioning the existence of this God who would allow the kidnapping of her child.
At home, they are a mess. Rosy brings up the old questions of why they have guns in the house since Reagan was carrying a useless gun when it happened. Reagan won’t let Liberty play in the yard or go to her friend’s house anymore for fear of strangers. Liberty is trying to hold on to them for her own sake and for theirs, but that’s hard to do when they are never in the same room anymore. So Liberty cries, because her sister, Unity, is gone.
. . . to be continued. . .