else—”
Henderson buttoned his suit jacket. “Oh, there’ll be something else. Don’t you worry.” He stalked off, ignoring Potter’s matter-of-fact suggestion not to present too much of a target to snipers in the slaughterhouse.
11:31 A.M.
Arthur Potter stepped back into the van, the eyes of the assembled troopers following him cautiously. He wondered if they’d overheard the exchange between him and Henderson.
“Now,” the agent continued, “the rules of engagement.”
Potter dug a fax from his jacket pocket.
On the jet from Glenview, Potter had spoken via conference call with the Bureau’s director, its assistant director of criminal investigations, and Frank D’Angelo, commander of the Bureau’s HRT, and had written the rules of engagement for the Crow Ridge barricade. This had taken much of the flight and the result was a single-spaced two-page document that covered every eventuality and gave Potter specific orders about handling the situation. It had been written with much circumspection. Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms and the FBI had taken serious flak for the handling of the Koresh standoff in Waco and the Bureau itself had been vilified for the Randall Weaver barricade in ’92, in which the rules of engagement had been written so broadly that sharpshooters believed that they had orders to shoot any armed adults if they had clear shots. Weaver’s wife was mistakenly killed by an FBI sniper.
Potter was looking mostly at Stillwell when he said, “Your job is to contain the HTs. Containment is a tactical function but it’s purely passive. There’ll be no rescue attempts whatsoever.”
“Yessir.”
“You’ll keep the takers inside whatever perimeter I decide is active. It might be the building itself, it might be a line a hundred yards around the building. Whatever it is, they are not to cross that boundary alive. If any one of them does, whether or not they have a hostage with them, your troops’re green-lighted. You know what that means?”
“They’re cleared to shoot.”
“That’s correct. And you shoot to kill. No attempts to wound. No threats. No warning shots. Lethal fire or no fire at all.”
“Yessir.”
“There are to be no shots through open windows or doorways, even if you see a hostage threatened, without express authorization from someone on the threat management team.”
Potter noticed that Budd’s face grew dark when he heard this.
“Understood,” Stillwell said. The commanders nodded reluctantly.
“If you’re fired upon, you’ll take defensive positions and wait until you have the okay to return fire. If at any time you or another officer are actually threatened with deadly force, you may use deadly force to protect yourself or that person. But only if you’re convinced that there is a true present danger.”
“A present danger,” a trooper muttered sarcastically.
They’re hoping for a turkey shoot, Potter thought. He glanced at the clock on LeBow’s computer. “We’re going to establish contact in about five minutes. I’m going to warn the takers about the perimeter and I’ll let you know, Sheriff, that they’ve been so notified. From that moment on you’re instructed to contain them as I’ve outlined.”
“Yessir,” the sheriff answered calmly, and brushed his mop of hair, mussing it further.
“For the time being, the kill zone will be any area outside the building itself. After they send somebody out to get the phone nobody comes outside unless it’s under a flag of truce.”
Stillwell nodded.
Potter continued. “Henry here will be feeding you data that’s tactically relevant. Types of weapons, location of hostage takers and hostages, possible exits, and so on. There’s to be no contact directly between you and the HTs. And don’t listen in on my conversations with Handy.”
“Right. Why not?”
“Because I’m going to be establishing rapport with him and trying to be reasonable. You can’t afford to have any sympathy for
Henderson buttoned his suit jacket. “Oh, there’ll be something else. Don’t you worry.” He stalked off, ignoring Potter’s matter-of-fact suggestion not to present too much of a target to snipers in the slaughterhouse.
11:31 A.M.
Arthur Potter stepped back into the van, the eyes of the assembled troopers following him cautiously. He wondered if they’d overheard the exchange between him and Henderson.
“Now,” the agent continued, “the rules of engagement.”
Potter dug a fax from his jacket pocket.
On the jet from Glenview, Potter had spoken via conference call with the Bureau’s director, its assistant director of criminal investigations, and Frank D’Angelo, commander of the Bureau’s HRT, and had written the rules of engagement for the Crow Ridge barricade. This had taken much of the flight and the result was a single-spaced two-page document that covered every eventuality and gave Potter specific orders about handling the situation. It had been written with much circumspection. Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms and the FBI had taken serious flak for the handling of the Koresh standoff in Waco and the Bureau itself had been vilified for the Randall Weaver barricade in ’92, in which the rules of engagement had been written so broadly that sharpshooters believed that they had orders to shoot any armed adults if they had clear shots. Weaver’s wife was mistakenly killed by an FBI sniper.
Potter was looking mostly at Stillwell when he said, “Your job is to contain the HTs. Containment is a tactical function but it’s purely passive. There’ll be no rescue attempts whatsoever.”
“Yessir.”
“You’ll keep the takers inside whatever perimeter I decide is active. It might be the building itself, it might be a line a hundred yards around the building. Whatever it is, they are not to cross that boundary alive. If any one of them does, whether or not they have a hostage with them, your troops’re green-lighted. You know what that means?”
“They’re cleared to shoot.”
“That’s correct. And you shoot to kill. No attempts to wound. No threats. No warning shots. Lethal fire or no fire at all.”
“Yessir.”
“There are to be no shots through open windows or doorways, even if you see a hostage threatened, without express authorization from someone on the threat management team.”
Potter noticed that Budd’s face grew dark when he heard this.
“Understood,” Stillwell said. The commanders nodded reluctantly.
“If you’re fired upon, you’ll take defensive positions and wait until you have the okay to return fire. If at any time you or another officer are actually threatened with deadly force, you may use deadly force to protect yourself or that person. But only if you’re convinced that there is a true present danger.”
“A present danger,” a trooper muttered sarcastically.
They’re hoping for a turkey shoot, Potter thought. He glanced at the clock on LeBow’s computer. “We’re going to establish contact in about five minutes. I’m going to warn the takers about the perimeter and I’ll let you know, Sheriff, that they’ve been so notified. From that moment on you’re instructed to contain them as I’ve outlined.”
“Yessir,” the sheriff answered calmly, and brushed his mop of hair, mussing it further.
“For the time being, the kill zone will be any area outside the building itself. After they send somebody out to get the phone nobody comes outside unless it’s under a flag of truce.”
Stillwell nodded.
Potter continued. “Henry here will be feeding you data that’s tactically relevant. Types of weapons, location of hostage takers and hostages, possible exits, and so on. There’s to be no contact directly between you and the HTs. And don’t listen in on my conversations with Handy.”
“Right. Why not?”
“Because I’m going to be establishing rapport with him and trying to be reasonable. You can’t afford to have any sympathy for
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