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“President Obama, The people deserve to see with there own eyes, that this monster is dead.” I make direct eye contact with the President as he peers through the north window of the oval office. “What if it causes a massive uprising? What if more people turn against us? Perhaps it would cause a boost in recruiting for terrorist organizations…I just don’t know if it’s worth the risk.” He pauses for a moment before adding a confirming “you know what I mean?”

“No sir, I don’t know what you mean. What is the reason for the hate to begin with? How can you add definition to a movement that has no clear definition? To say that America is better than that, indeed we are better than that; we kill in the name of justice. When they kill innocent contracted civilians, or soldiers, or women and children of their own faith and beliefs, it truly shows their cowardice. This however, bears no resemblance to the will of the American people and should not ever come in comparison. We are not showing a picture of an innocent person. The news all over the country showed at will the terrible video of our own citizens jumping to their deaths rather than perish in the heated flames that engulfed the twin towers, yet we shy away from showing the image of the man who caused it for fear of increased recruitment?” It is clear by this point that I am overwhelmed by emotion as I am now fighting tears which pound their way into my eyes.

“I understand the emotion, nobody understands better than me. I cannot in good concsience, put those images out there if it could cause our soldiers to be targeted.” He sits back and cups his face in his hands. “I need a smoke. This is crazy.”

We walk through the rose garden near the east wing. The President casually puffs on a Newport, neither of us says anything for a few minutes.

“Sir?” I uttered.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Not to beat a dead horse, but how does the release of photos, make life more dangerous than it already is for a soldier? When an enemy has stated that they will continue within their irrational hatred of you, until you are utterly destroyed; is this not he height to which so called danger can travel?”

“Well….” he stops short.

“I mean, what else can they do? Why are we even still there? We got who we wanted. Why not bring the soldiers home and protect our borders?” I demanded.

“It is my will that this be our future.” he replies sullenly.

“Our future, I said immediately is dependant on closure. America is still angry. America is still fearful. America needs to see the pictures. The world needs to see the pictures. Perhaps, the world needs to see that we are victorious in our war. Why could this picture not be seen as a deterrent to further terrorist acts? What makes this more of a recruitment tool than the videos of the mass death of 911?”

“I’m just trying to keep the peace!” he snapped

“Indeed Mr. President. Indeed. But peace…peace is no longer a choice we get to make. And if you have nothing to lose..What is a better recruitment tool, a picture of success or defeat?” I asked.

“I’m not sure I follow.” His eyes gazing at me with concern.

“Is it more motivational for them to see the coffins of the men and women they have killed; or to see one of their own killed for the vindication of those who occupy the coffins. It all just seems so, so… contradictory, so political.”

With a look I had never seen before, he smashed his cigarette on the ground and walked into his office and closed the door.

I walked away, nothing settled. As much as usual, my argument fell on deaf ears.