That was the thing about fear. It made good people trust the wrong men sometimes simply because those men were loud enough, confident enough to sound like the answer. Grant clicked off his microphone and made his way back toward his tripod just as Derek stepped onto the center of the mat.
Derek stood at the center of the mat addressing the crowd with a microphone now clipped to his gi collar. “All right, Cedar Falls,” he said, his voice booming through the speakers. “Tonight, I want to show you something because too many of our seniors, our neighbors, our friends feel unsafe out there, and that’s not okay with me.” The crowd murmured its approval. It was admittedly a good message. True, even. People did worry. Purse snatchings, home invasions in nearby counties, a world that sometimes felt less safe than it used to. The problem wasn’t the message. It was the man delivering it and what he was about to do with the trust the room had just handed him.
He started with something easy. He had one of his own assistants play the role of an attacker, grabbing at an imaginary purse while Derek demonstrated a smooth pivot and release. The crowd applauded. It looked impressive, clean, exactly like something out of a movie. “See how simple that was?” Derek said, grinning. “Anyone in this room could learn that in one session.” A few people in the front row murmured to each other, impressed. Pauline, standing near the side of the stage, allowed herself to relax a little. This was going well. This was exactly the kind of program Cedar Falls needed.
Derek could have stopped there. He could have run through a few more stage demonstrations with his own trained assistants, kept the whole thing safe and polished, and everyone would have gone home happy. But stage demonstrations don’t sell memberships nearly as well as real ones do. And Derek Vance never missed a chance to make himself look good in front of a paying crowd.