By and By and October 7, 2003 This is the third of five excerpts from 'Sniper: Inside the Hunt for the Killers Who Terrorized the Nation.' It was raining on the morning of Monday, Oct. 21, as Jose Morales walked across the parking lot of a convenience store outside Richmond to call his wife in Guatemala. Morales had entered the United States illegally five months earlier.
He earned $8 an hour working as a roofer from dawn to dusk and slept on the floor in a crowded apartment with six other immigrants. He had five children back home. Across the street at an Exxon station, Edgar Rivera Garcia, a carpenter from Mexico, was sitting in a white Plymouth minivan with a roof rack, talking on a pay phone. He had been on the phone for 35 minutes, parked close enough to the phone kiosk so that he didn't have to get out of the van and get wet.
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It was 8:32 a.m., and the lives of two immigrants were about to change -- and not for the better. Responding to Montgomery County Police Chief Charles A.
Moose's appeal the night before, Lee Boyd Malvo and John Muhammad had indeed called back. Thirty-five minutes before, they had called the Ponderosa Steakhouse in Ashland, Va., from a pay phone at the same Exxon station where Garcia was talking. Baltimore FBI agent Jackie K. Dalrymple took the call, which had been automatically forwarded to the sniper task force command center in Rockville. Dalrymple had been on duty since 7 a.m. And had already taken several calls on the Ponderosa line.
Someone had asked about the chicken wings, someone else about the work schedule that day. When the phone rang at 7:57 a.m., it was Lee Malvo. 'Is this the Ponderosa?' 'Um, who is this?' Dalrymple said. 'Don't say anything, but listen,' Malvo said, and he started a tape that he was holding next to the phone. 'Dearest police, call me God.
Do not release to the press. Five red stars. You have our terms. They are non-negotiable. If you choose option one, you will hold a press conference, stating to the media that you believe you have caught the sniper like a duck in a noose. Repeat every word exactly as you heard it. If you choose option two, be sure to remember he will not deviate.
Your children are not safe.' 'I am listening,' Dalrymple replied.
'I am listening.' But Malvo hung up. The call had lasted for 38 seconds. It picked up perfectly from the note found after the Ponderosa shooting. The same code phrases. The threat to children. No kook could know those details.
After two weeks of bungled trying, pursued and pursuer were now in clear, unmistakable contact. Figuring out where the call was made was the job of the U.S.
Marshals Service. The marshals had been in on the case since the beginning. Their mission was the same as it had been since the Old West -- finding fugitives -- only these days, they use, among other things, telephone records and sophisticated electronic surveillance. For example, they have the technology to identify all the cell phones that were on in an area at the time of an incident, and had done it numerous times during the sniper shootings.
Many of the cell phone numbers that turned up, however, belonged to investigators. Delay in Conveying Number At 8:03, six minutes after Malvo made his call, Marshal Inspector Tim Hein, stationed outside the negotiators' room in the command center, heard about the call from Dalrymple. To Hein, those six minutes seemed like six hours. With these kinds of calls, every second counts. The slight delay in giving the number to Hein was just the first miscue that morning that would turn opportunity into fiasco. Armed with the number from caller ID and aided by a local phone company, Hein tracked the call to a pay phone outside the Exxon station at Parham Road and West Broad Street within minutes.
The station was about a block from where a sheriff's deputy had run Muhammad's Chevy Caprice's tag 16 hours earlier and about four miles from where the snipers had made their futile call to the Ponderosa the day before. At 8:07, Hein told top FBI and Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms officials in the Joint Operations Center where the phone call came from. They, in turn, telephoned an FBI command post in Richmond, where federal agents and local police commanders had pay phones throughout the area under surveillance and were standing. Henrico County Police Chief Henry W. Gave the order for his officers to get to the Exxon station. Stanley -- and the other officials in the Richmond command post -- had no idea that the caller had hung up 10 minutes before.
Their understanding was that he was still on the phone. Hein had also called Lenny DePaul, a New York-based inspector for the marshals who had been brought in on the sniper case for his expertise with fugitives. DePaul was in his car, driving toward Richmond. 'Go in soft,' DePaul told Kevin Engel, another marshal who was nearing the Exxon station. 'Don't heat it up.' DePaul knew that their best chance of catching the sniper was to ease in and not risk scaring him with lights and sirens.
DePaul didn't know that the Henrico police were on the way. At 8:08, Henrico County police officer Roger Condrey spotted a man in a white van on a pay phone -- Garcia. Condrey radioed in what he saw, and the on-scene commander gave the order for the officers to move in. They closed down the streets and secured the gas station. The response was anything but soft. At 8:30 -- 33 minutes after the Rockville task force first got the call -- Henrico SWAT officers swept across the parking lot, hauled Garcia out of his Plymouth at gunpoint and scooped up Morales for good measure. The pay phones would be seized later, too.
When he got to the gas station, Engel called DePaul back. 'Uh, Lenny,' Engel said, 'I thought you wanted to go in soft.
It looks like a [expletive] circus over here.' Garcia and Morales were on the ground. A helicopter thundered overhead. At the Richmond command post, they thought they had their men. But DePaul knew otherwise. He got a call from William J. Sorukas Jr., a senior inspector with the marshals' Technical Operations Group, who had been trying to get a better fix on the phone line.
Sorukas had found that Garcia's call had started before the call to Dalrymple and had gone on long after the other call ended. It turned out there were two phones on opposite ends of the Exxon station. The hammer had come down on the wrong one. 'The two people they got are not the right guys,' Sorukas told DePaul.
'I know from the phone calls they're not the right guys.' 'You've got to be kidding me,' DePaul said. At the Exxon station, Engel had no doubt there had been a mistake. A guy who had been getting away with the crimes of the century wasn't going to be on the pay phone for half an hour, he thought. Somebody just screwed up.
Chief Stanley was miffed when he later heard that an official in Rockville called the takedown a 'rookie move.' He had just acted on delayed information from the FBI, he would say later.
The next day, FBI Director Robert S. Mueller III was taking a tour of the JOC when he stopped at Hein's desk and shook his hand. 'I understand there was some time delay in getting the location of that number to Virginia,' Hein would remember him saying. 'I did it as fast as I could, sir,' Hein replied. He knew -- but didn't say -- that the delay had nothing to do with the U.S.
Marshals Service. Garcia and Morales were just unlucky. Neither spoke much English or knew the other.
They were released in a few hours. But their problems were just beginning. Within a few months, both would be back in their home countries, technically not deported but 'repatriated.' DePaul knew they'd gone in too fast and botched it. What he didn't know was that the tunnel vision the investigators had vowed to avoid had sabotaged them again.
They had artfully lured their prey, only to be crossed up by the vision of a white van. Not until later would they learn how close they had come. Malvo would tell his interrogators that he was among the bystanders who had watched the raid as it went down. 'I saw the Mexicans get stopped,' he said.
'I watched it, but I wasn't in the car.' He didn't hang around for long. Two hours later, the Caprice was photographed by a traffic camera going through a red light at Broad and Birch streets in Falls Church, about 100 miles from the Exxon station and about two miles from where Linda Franklin was killed in a Home Depot parking lot. In the command center, Montgomery Capt.
Barney Forsythe had followed the Virginia events on the bank of TVs set up behind his desk. Something about it didn't feel right. 'Whole world going to respond to take a hard look,' he wrote in his logbook.
As the hours passed and there was no word from Virginia, it became clear that these were not the right guys. If they were, someone would have called. Forsythe understood how dynamic the situation was. He knew that even with technology it was extremely hard to get a call, track it, deploy police and grab a jittery caller before he hung up. No one was really to blame. The ATF's Jim Cavanaugh agreed. It was hard to knock the Henrico police for jumping the white van.
Under the circumstances, they'd have been crazy if they hadn't. In a case like this you had to be out there doing stuff, shaking things up.
You could not sit back and wait for the action to come to you. Pieces Come Together At 4:17 p.m. Moose, flanked by the ATF's Mike Bouchard and the FBI's Gary Bald, stood under a white tent outside police headquarters in Rockville and twice read carefully from a statement to the sniper: 'The person you called could not hear everything you said. The audio was unclear. And we want to get it right. Call us back so that we can clearly understand.'
The call in fact had raised new questions for investigators, beginning with the reference to the duck in the noose. Investigators quickly figured out that it came from an obscure folk story about a boastful rabbit that tried to catch a duck with a noose. The duck was caught but flew away, dragging the rabbit until it finally let go and fell. Members of the task force sat around, listening to a tape of the recorded 'duck in a noose' call over and over and over. One agent thought the voice was Hispanic; another guessed it might be Asian.
'It sounds like a kid,' one said. ATF negotiator-adviser Peter Mangan thought the voice was foreign, and the 'duck in a noose' reference sounded Caribbean, maybe Jamaican. He ran the idea past a Jamaican-born ATF agent, Mark Peterkin. But Peterkin had never heard of the 'duck in a noose.' 'Pete, man, there are no ducks in Jamaica,' Peterkin jokingly said. 'No ducks in Jamaica.' Marshals were also pondering a Jamaican connection.
Late that night, Lenny DePaul and a couple of colleagues from the New York regional task force were hanging out in the lobby of a hotel in Manassas, exhausted but not ready for sleep. DePaul had a copy of the letter left in Ashland.
He also had a computer disk of the Malvo's recorded call to the dispatcher in Rockville who interrupted him. 'I feel like choking her every time I rewind the tape,' he joked. An FBI agent from Richmond had told DePaul that he thought the voice on the tape was a Puerto Rican from New York. But DePaul had a different theory. He sounds like a young black kid from one of the islands, he told the marshals. 'He pretty much sounds Jamaican,' DePaul said. One of the New York task force members, Vinny Senzamici, was an expert on New York City gangs; another detective knew Jamaican gangs.
DePaul handed them the letter. Senzamici was fascinated with the five stars at the top of the first page. He had heard of a Jamaican band that sang a song called 'Word Is Bond.' He also knew that on the street the phrase 'five-star general' referred to the highest-ranking guy in a street gang. DePaul and the others got onto the laptop and began typing in phrases from the letter. 'Word is bond' was part of the lyrics of rap songs by several recording artists, including Busta Rhymes. The hip-hop group House of Pain had a song that caught their attention.
It opened with the lyrics 'Word is bond. Pop pop pop pop. Grab your chest. Now ya bleedin [punk].' DePaul found a reggae group with a song called 'Word Is Bond' that had recently performed in Washington. 'Look at this,' DePaul said. 'Print me out everything about these groups.'
Later, the marshals also found an Internet site for a black British rap group that used the phrases 'Mr. Police' and 'Call me God,' which also appeared in the Ashland letter. The task force had just missed its quarry at the Exxon that morning. If the authorities could get the sniper to call again, the police might be more lucky. But Muhammad and Malvo knew that, too.
They were already paranoid about the calls. They had another plan in mind. Two hours later, a Montgomery County police officer spotted an old blue Chevrolet Caprice with tinted windows driving in Rockville. It had New Jersey license plates. The officer was suspicious of the car and ran the tag number through his computer. Nothing he was concerned about came back. The officer let the car proceed.
A little after 11 p.m., Muhammad showed up at the Outback Steakhouse in Aspen Hill. He chatted with a customer, who later remembered that Muhammad said he was feeling sick and was seated in the hostess area as the restaurant closed.
The customer watched as Muhammad drove away in a blue Chevy Caprice with tinted windows and New Jersey license plates. A Deadly Message At the shooting scene, there were many familiar faces.
The investigators all knew one another by now. Forsythe's deputy, Lt. Phil Raum, was home when Forsythe called him. The body of Conrad E. Johnson, fatally shot on the steps of his Ride On bus, had already been taken away when Raum arrived. By 7 a.m., as the day began to warm, a massive Beltway dragnet again came up empty.
Judging from the fact that Johnson had been standing in the doorway of the bus, it seemed likely that the shot that killed him had come from the woods just beyond the basketball courts. It was a perfect place for an ambush and had been carefully selected. The setup was like the shootings of Jeffrey Hopper at the Ponderosa and Iran Brown at the Benjamin Tasker Middle School. The woods provided cover, the basketball court a free field of fire.
There was a big busy apartment complex next door, where the car could be parked for a smooth getaway. Around 1:20 p.m., Sgt. Nick DeCarlo of the Montgomery County police, organized a team of about 30 police and federal agents equipped with rakes who went shoulder to shoulder through the underbrush, looking for clues. They found a pile of excrement. Fifteen minutes into the search and about 50 feet into the woods, an ATF agent spotted a Ziploc bag impaled on a broken tree branch.
Inside that bag was another Ziploc bag. And inside the second Ziploc bag was a note. It had red stars stuck to it and writing on both sides of a piece of paper. County police forensics specialist David McGill pulled the bag off the tree branch and placed it in an evidence envelope. An investigator called out to Raum that a note had been found.
Raum told him to lower his voice, motioning toward the media gathered not far away. Bring the note and walk slowly with me to the evidence truck, Raum said. Inside the truck, the note was handed over to federal agents for processing. But Raum had to be able to tell his bosses what it said.
He got a piece of loose-leaf paper, knelt on the floor and copied it as exactly as he could. 'For you, Mr. Police,' the front side began. 'Call me God.'
Do not release to the press. Your children are not safe.
Can you hear us now? Do not play these childish games with us. You know our demands. The other side read: 'For you Mr. 'Call me God.' Do not release to the press. You did not respond [to] the message.
You departed from what we told you to say, and you departed from the time. Your incompetence has cost you another life. You have until 9 a.m. To deliver the money, and until eight a.m. To deliver this response, 'We have caught the sniper like a duck in a noose... ' to let us know that you have our demands.'
The note was clear and chilling. And already it was hours past both deadlines the senders had stipulated. Raum called Forsythe, but Forsythe didn't have a chance to inform Moose right away. Moose found out from someone else. Minutes later Forsythe got a page from Moose's secretary: 'The chief wants to see you right now.'
Moose was upset. 'Did you forget to tell me something?' He asked Forsythe. But he calmed down once Forsythe explained. When he was finished copying the note, Raum hurried to police headquarters. Forsythe, Moose and other top task force officials were gathered around the small conference table in Moose's office, and Raum, who was unaccustomed to all that brass, read them the note. Then a discussion began over the meaning of the note, which seemed more angry and demanding than the previous one.
The sniper was saying that Johnson had been killed because of the inadequate response to the previous note, and there was another threat to hurt children. Some kind of response had to be made. The pressure on the task force was growing. At Moose's news conference that afternoon, he was grilled about the details of the Ponderosa note. The Richmond Times-Dispatch had reported that Richmond area schools remained closed because of a possible threat to schools contained in the note. 'Can you confirm it, or enlighten us?'
A reporter asked Moose. Moose tried to avoid the question by saying everyone, including children, was in danger.
'There were schoolchildren specifically mentioned in the letter? That was the question, sir,' the reporter said. 'That's what we want to know.' Moose responded that it would be 'inappropriate' to talk about such things. But parents would want to know if there was such a threat, the reporter said. Moose replied that he would pass on something he felt people needed to know.
'You'd pass along a specific threat, in other words?' He was asked. Moose again said the discussion of evidence was inappropriate, but that if he came upon information he felt was 'releasable,' he would provide it. The reporters would not let it drop. Was the Richmond newspaper account inaccurate? Another one asked. 'Sir, again, I was trying to say that this is the wrong forum to have any further discussions with regards to your question,' Moose said.
'It's very inappropriate.' 'What's the right forum?' Someone asked. Information Not Shared The frictions within the task force were worsening, mainly because people felt they were not being kept in the loop. Police and agents on the street and in offices across the region were furious that information in Rockville wasn't being shared with them.
Some county detectives were upset with Forsythe; federal prosecutors were upset with Bald, of the FBI. There was bad blood between Moose and Douglas F. Gansler, the Montgomery County state's attorney, and between Gansler and some of the federal prosecutors. One Virginia prosecutor wished 'a pox' on both Gansler and the feds.
Innocent people were still being slain, and the authorities seemed helpless to stop it. Reporters were getting tired of being told their questions were inappropriate. The killer or killers had romped untouched over the region, spreading fear and grief for three weeks, and now were back. The fear, Cavanaugh would remember, hung over the area 'like the damned Washington humidity.' Shortly after 5 p.m., Moose returned to the satellite trucks and reporters after a long discussion at the command center about how to handle the sniper's latest threats to children. Ramsey, the D.C.
Chief, had urged the release of the threat. Bald was worried about a report that two news organizations were about to claim, erroneously, that the threat referred to shooting students on school buses.
Malvo would later say that he and Muhammad planned just such an attack but aborted it at the last minute because 'the bus pulled in wrong.' Cavanaugh, like Ramsey, said the threat they had received should be made public. 'Just release the last sentence of the letter,' he said. 'That's the truth. That's what he said.' Someone argued that it might upset children.
'Look,' Cavanaugh said. 'He's already shot a child. Let's get it out there.... Get the truth out to the public and let adults, parents and school officials decide what precautions they need to take in their community.' It was agreed, so Moose now explained that he was going to provide the exact language of the sniper.
'It is in the form of a postscript: 'Your children are not safe anywhere, at any time.' ' He explained that he would not provide the rest of the message and did not answer any more questions.
Back inside headquarters, Moose told Capt. Nancy Demme, the police spokeswoman, that it was the hardest thing he had ever done. 'We're saying we can't do our job. We're supposed to keep people safe, and we can't.' Two hours later, he was back in front of the reporters. At 7:14 p.m., more than 12 hours past the deadline for the payment mentioned in the latest note, Moose read a statement, this time for the sniper.
'These past several days, you have attempted to communicate with us,' he said. 'We have researched the options you stated and found that it is not possible electronically to comply in the manner that you requested. However, we remain open and ready to talk to you about the options you have mentioned.
It is important that we do this without anyone else getting hurt. Call us at the same number you used before.... If you would feel more comfortable, a private post office box or another secure method can be provided.
You indicated that this is about more than violence. We are waiting to hear from you.' The task force was trying to put off the killer's demand for money without rejecting it.
Authorities weren't about to put $10 million into a Visa card account. But the FBI had discussed setting aside $100,000 in the event the negotiations got to an exchange of cash. That was a lot of money for the local authorities, but not for the federal agencies.
Cavanaugh had spent three times that much on undercover gun and explosives buys. At the same time, Moose was signaling that a deal might still be struck, as long as no one else got hurt. The authorities needed time; they just weren't sure how much. The key developments that day, however, had nothing to do with the incipient negotiations. In Tacoma, Wash., investigators finally went to interview Robert Holmes, almost a week after he had first called to voice his suspicions. Holmes, an old Army friend of Muhammad's, had watched the sniper shootings unfold on TV with increasing unease. He knew Muhammad.
He knew Muhammad had a rifle and had been obsessed with getting a silencer. He knew Muhammad hated his ex-wife, who lived in the Washington area. He knew Muhammad had a teenage sidekick. And he hadn't seen either of them in several months. The night that Linda Franklin was killed, Holmes was watching the news when he saw a picture of the rifle that police thought the sniper might be using. It looked almost exactly like the one Muhammad had fired into a tree stump in Holmes's back yard. He made up his mind to call the FBI tip line.
When police contacted him, he told them about Muhammad and his rifle, and his sidekick, Malvo, and Muhammad's ex-wife, Mildred, and the silencer components that had been left at his house. And just before 7 a.m., Mitch Hollers, an FBI fingerprint expert in Washington, took the prints from the gun catalogue brought from Montgomery, Ala., the day before and ran them through the FBI's new Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System. The system, which was only three years old, was a vast computerized database containing the prints of 44 million individuals arrested by an array of police agencies across the country. When Hollers ran the prints, there was a match -- from a Jamaican teenager who had been arrested as an illegal immigrant in Bellingham, Wash., on Dec. His name was Lee Boyd Malvo. And when his brief arrest report was pulled, it said Malvo was in the middle of some kind of custody dispute involving his mother and another man, one John 'Mohammed.'
The two subjects of that report had spent the afternoon working out. People later said they saw them at a YMCA in Silver Spring a little while after the Johnson slaying. The pair said they didn't have the $3 guest fee and were allowed in for free. A trainer saw Muhammad in the locker room, drenched in sweat, his face in his hands.
Was anything the matter? The trainer asked.
'No,' said Muhammad. 22, Muhammad made a phone card call back to Washington state. He was apparently calling from a rest stop off Route 50 in Stevensville, Md., east of Annapolis and just past the eastern end of the soaring Chesapeake Bay Bridge. It was a short call, a little over six minutes. It would be his last call on the phone card. Staff researcher Julie Tate contributed to this report. Henrico police mark the position of a van near a pay phone at the lot.
The van's driver, who was on the phone, was also caught up in the Oct. 21, 2002, raid. Henrico County police at the scene of the gas station parking lot raid.Jose Morales and his wife, Lena Hernandez, at their home in Estanzuela, Guatemala, in December 2002. Morales was sent back home after being caught up in a police raid of a gas station parking lot outside Richmond in a failed attempt to catch the sniper.An aerial view of the site on Grand Pre Road just north of Connecticut Avenue in Aspen Hill, where Conrad E.
Johnson, a Ride On bus driver, was slain Oct. 22, 2002, while standing on the steps of his bus. It was the final sniper slaying.
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