Patriot Realm

By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Investigative Reporter Extraordinaire
The Ratty News Foreign Desk | Special Report

It is the anniversary of Christ’s crucifixion, and I, Roderick McNibble - known to my readers as Whiskers - found myself somewhere I never expected. On this holiest of days, how could I write about Ratty News?  

Instead, I found myself in a dingy dive bar in Gaza, thick with smoke, secrets, and the scent of something deeply unwashed.  A place that was so unfamiliar to me. 

The place reeked of stale beer and had the unmistakable undertone of goat. A flock of them grazed lazily in the corner, apparently part of the décor. Overhead, a dusty ceiling fan spun like a crooked halo, kicking up more flies than breeze.

I had arrived only moments earlier aboard Ratty Airways' signature orange biplane, our flagship vessel fitted with dynamic whisker propulsion; an innovation I may or may not have invented after three Marmalade Brandies from the Dutsy Gulch Country Women's Association Brewing and Distilling Company;  and a high wind. The journey from Dusty Gulch to Gaza took a remarkable ten minutes, a new personal record, though I suspect the laws of time and space bent slightly just to be rid of me.

The locals call this place "The Unleavened Lounge." Others call it "Don't Ask, Just Drink." Either way, it was here I found him - the man whose release shook the world.

Barabbas.

No longer a revolutionary. No longer a mere criminal. No longer a name whispered in church pews and shrugged at in Sunday school. No, today, he was something altogether more unsettling: a man of great wealth, political ties, and an unnervingly familiar face.

This, dear reader, was not a vision. It was the scoop of a lifetime.

And I had my notebook ready.

It was to be the interview of my journalistic career:  yes, over 2000 years on, I was sitting down to meet Barabbas.  Across from me sat a man once notorious for his role in one of the most infamous betrayals of all time: Barabbas, a self-styled mogul with enough wealth to make the kings of the ancient world blush.

The scene was surreal. 72 virgins roamed the bar, some sipping on something suspiciously sweet, others tending to the flocks of goats grazing in the corner. But there was no mistaking the man sitting before me. Barabbas, no longer the revolutionary, the criminal, or even the pawn in a political game. He was now a man of gold and power. Yet despite the years and the wealth, one thing hadn't changed: the legacy of his actions.

I had tracked him down to get the truth. The full truth.

Barabbas’ release, the crowd’s cries for blood, the bribe to Judas, and the ultimate fate of Jesus Christ - these were stories twisted by time, but what remained at the heart of it all was a man who had been given a second chance at life, while another had been sentenced to death. And it was time to dig into the rot beneath the surface.

I sat up straighter, my pencil poised over my notepad, ready for the scoop of a lifetime. The first question was simple, but it would set the tone for the rest of the interview.

"Barabbas," I began, locking eyes with him, "You were the man who walked free that fateful day, while Jesus, an innocent man, was sentenced to die. But it wasn’t just your freedom at stake, was it? It was a political game. A manipulation of the crowds, paid agitators, and a bribe to Judas."

Barabbas chuckled darkly, swirling a goblet of fermented goat milk in his hand. “You think I didn’t know what was happening?” he sneered, clearly not fazed by the question. “Of course I knew.  And the politicians? They were the ones pulling the strings. They had their sights on Jesus, not me. I was just the convenient tool. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

At this point, I could sense the arrogance, the smugness oozing from him. His wealth and influence had clearly insulated him from any real consequences, but I wasn’t here to let him off the hook so easily.

“And what was it like?” I pressed. “To be the pawn in such a twisted game?”

Barabbas leaned forward, grinning. “Oh, it was exciting. They made sure I walked free, told the crowd what they wanted to hear, got them riled up, then boom, there was the deal. The crowd’s thirst for blood was just as important as the bribe to Judas. It was all rigged, don’t kid yourself. And Jesus? He was a threat to the power structure. The politicians knew it, so they used me to get rid of him.”

The crowd, the politics, the corruption -  it was all laid bare in his words. I felt the weight of history pressing down on me. The injustice, the manipulation, the ruthless power plays of the elite...all of it felt so familiar, as if nothing had changed in the millennia that followed.

I leaned back in my chair, watching as Barabbas relished in his retelling of history. He may have been a pawn back then, but now he was the king,  sitting on piles of gold, surrounded by the trappings of luxury. Still, there was something unsettling about his satisfaction, like he knew too much about how the game worked.

“So, you were a pawn,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm. “But that means you’ve been in the game for a long time. Tell me, Barabbas, how much of the political maneuvering has changed in 2,000 years?”

Barabbas laughed, the sound grating on my ears. “Nothing has changed, Roderick. Absolutely nothing. Bribes will still be paid, lies will still be told. The bad guys find people like me,  people willing to sell out, and the good guys, they get crucified. Either literally or metaphorically. It’s all the same game, and I’ve played it well.”

And just like that, Barabbas confirmed what I had feared: the game hadn’t changed. The players, the tactics, the motivations - it was all the same. Bribes, lies, manipulation- these were the tools of power, and the common man was the one left to suffer.

But what was more chilling was how Barabbas wore it all so casually. The moral rot that allowed him to betray a man who was nothing but good was now a badge of honour for him. 

I felt the time had come to dig deeper, to challenge him in a way he hadn’t been challenged in centuries. The smug smile, the comfortable posture - it was all too much. 

As I wrapped up the interview, I turned to the camera.

"There you have it, folks," I said, my voice filled with the quiet gravity of the moment. "For 2,000 years, we’ve been told that Barabbas was just a prisoner caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the truth is far more disturbing. He was a tool in a political game that is still being played today. The same bribes, the same lies, the same manipulation. Nothing has changed. And as long as the powers that be can find people like Barabbas to sell out the truth, the good guys will always be left to hang on crosses. Physically or metaphorically."

I turned back to Barabbas, the man who had been given a second chance while another had died for his sins. " Do you regret it? "  I asked? 

He sipped from his goblet of gold and replied " What do you think? " 

So, next time you see someone ‘walking free,’ remember - it all started with Barabbas. And nothing’s changed.

This is Roderick ( Whiskers ) McNibble signing out on what is a very solemn Good Friday.