by John Dibble
She sighed, turned and started back up the trail, shining the light to the right as she went. She had gone about a hundred feet when she thought she heard something ahead of her on the trail. She raised the flashlight and could see a dark figure in the mist coming down the trail toward her. When it came fully into the beam of the flashlight, she could see an ape, knuckle-walking slowly with its head raised and its eyes looking directly at her. These were not the soft, human eyes of the zoo gorilla. These eyes were filled with rage.
When the ape was about thirty feet away from her, it stopped walking and stood upright, baring its teeth. It was huge, easily as tall as she was, and showed no sign of stopping its advance. The flashlight shining in its eyes obviously enraged it, but M.J. was not about to shine the beam elsewhere.
M.J. kept the flashlight in her left hand with her left arm extended laterally. She drew her gun with her right hand and thought to herself, Now what, stupid? Stop while I take your picture! Put your hands up! Stop or I’ll shoot! She aimed the gun, took the safety off and put her finger on the trigger.
The ape had dropped back down to its knuckle-walking position, but when it got about ten feet away from M.J. it rose back up, extended its arms and looked ready to leap.
M.J. fired once and hit the ape mid-chest. It looked down in amazement and placed one of its fingers against the entrance wound, then examined its blood-smeared finger. It let out a high-pitched scream and then started to run toward M.J.
M.J. fired a second time and the ape fell backwards onto the trail. It seemed to take a few labored breaths and then stopped moving altogether.
M.J. moved closer, keeping both the flashlight and the gun aimed at the ape. When she felt confident that the ape was dead, she holstered her gun and reached inside her rain slicker for the camera. She raised it and pushed the shutter button. Nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing. “Shit!” she said aloud and put the camera back inside the slicker.
She was still standing with the flashlight examining the ape’s body, when she heard something drop heavily onto the trail behind her. She drew her gun and spun around, still holding the flashlight in her extended left hand.
It was another ape. It had apparently jumped down from the rock outcropping next to the trail and was standing fully upright just a few feet from M.J., its teeth bared and a look of pure hatred on its face. It was much taller than the one M.J. had just killed, easily six feet, maybe more.
Before M.J. could fire, the ape extended its left arm and swung with such force that it knocked the gun out of her hand. It followed with its right hand and the flashlight went flying into the rock wall.
The flashlight had stayed on and there was enough reflected light for M.J. to see that the ape was advancing slowly. She backed away, knowing that to turn around would cause the ape to leap onto her back and kill her. Her right heel touched the body of the dead ape and she cautiously stepped around it. When the advancing ape reached the body, it stopped for a moment and looked down. That was all that M.J. needed. She spun around and started running up the trail.
She was certain that her right wrist was broken and it dangled uselessly by her side. She put the pain out of her mind and concentrated on distancing herself from the ape, which she could hear running on all fours on the hard-packed trail behind her. Then she didn’t hear the sound of the ape’s running for a few seconds and suddenly it could be heard again, only this time closer. It’s going over the rock outcroppings to shorten the distance between us, she thought.
She knew she dare not look around to see just how closely she was being pursued. The trail was almost completely dark except for the moonlight that occasionally shone through the rain clouds. She knew she had to remain completely focused and try to stay as near the center of the trail as possible.
She was running as fast as she could manage with her crippled wrist. She figured her pace was probably slightly better than the ape’s, but she could not let up for an instant. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled seeing a gaping wound on the ape’s right arm just before it knocked the flashlight out of her hand. Lola!, she thought, and that thought gave her the energy to increase her pace.
She guessed that she was perhaps a hundred yards from the end of the trail, maybe less. What would she do next? There was a shotgun in the trunk of her car, but she had no hope of getting to it. The car keys were in her pocket, but, even if she could get to them, the odds of opening the trunk fast enough to grab the shotgun were slim. Besides, even if she got the gun, how could she use it with just one arm? If she continued straight on the trail, it would take her onto Georgetown Pike. Maybe a passing motorist would see her and stop to help. Passing cars at almost three in the morning? Probably no cars at all, she thought.
A tree limb had fallen across the trail and she reached it just as the moon completely disappeared behind the clouds. She didn’t see it and her right foot struck it, causing her to tumble forward and land on her injured wrist. She let out a sharp cry of pain and tried to lift herself up using her left arm.
It was too late. The beast landed on her back, causing her to crash to the ground. Its hands immediately clamped onto the sides of her head. She stiffened her neck and shoulder muscles to counter the ape’s effort to pull her head back and twist it, but the force was so great that she was losing the battle and she felt her head come back and start to turn.
Suddenly, she saw a bright flash of light and heard a loud pop! So this is what it’s like to have your neck broken, she thought. Next, I guess I’ll get to see my grandma.
Instead, she felt the pressure release on her head and the full weight of the ape’s limp body fall onto her back. She stayed motionless for a moment and then the ape rolled off to her left side.
She raised herself up on her right side. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, but when they did she saw Jake standing next to the ape holding a flashlight and a gun.
He prodded the ape’s body with his foot and, when there was no response, holstered the gun and reached into his pocket. He pulled out four AA batteries which he held up and said, “You forgot the batteries for the camera.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
JAKE HELPED M.J. TO HIS CAR and took her to the hospital. On the way, he called the GW Station and asked them to send some uniformed officers to secure Difficult Run.
“Have them get in touch with Dr. Julia Matheson at the National Zoo,” M.J. said. “They need to tell her there are two large, dead apes that need to be picked up. I think she’ll understand. Oh, and have them retrieve my gun and flashlight, please.”
It turned out that Dodd had tried to reach M.J. on her cell phone around midnight to give her an update on the flooding. When he couldn’t reach her—she later discovered her cell phone batteries were dead—he had become worried and had reached Jake through Dispatch a little after 1:00 a.m. to share his concerns. Jake had tried M.J.’s apartment phone and, when she didn’t answer, had gone to Anacostia to look for her. He had seen the note on his desk, immediately figured out what was going on and driven to Difficult Run, arriving there just before 3:00 a.m. He had seen M.J.’s car in the parking lot, gotten out of his car and, just as he was starting down the trail, heard two shots echoing off the rock walls along the valley. As he had begun running down the trail, he had heard M.J. cry out—not too far ahead of where he was—and had drawn his gun, arriving just in time to kill the ape.
At the hospital, the doctors determined that M.J.’s wrist wasn’t broken, just badly sprained. It was put in a rigid wrap and she was given some pain medication. Jake took her to her apartment and put her to bed. He gave her some of the pain medication and kissed her on the forehead.
Just before M.J. closed her eyes, she said, “You’re still a prick, you know.”
“I know, but a lovable prick nonetheless,” he replied and quietly closed her bedroom door. He spent the night on her couch. When she awoke in the morning he served her breakfast in bed.
“You stay here today. I’ll fill
them in at the office about what happened,” he said.
“No argument from me,” she said and went back to sleep.
The next morning, Jake drove her to Anacostia Station for roll call. When they entered, everyone stood and began clapping. Even Swain appeared with a sheepish grin on his face and joined in the applause. Tony Lauretta came over and put his arm around her shoulders. “Good work, M.J.,” he said.
They had ordered a fancy pastry and had it decorated with “M.J. Powers—Super Detective.” Someone brought her a cup of coffee and the first slice of pastry. As she was eating it, the phone rang. Someone picked it up and said, “M.J., it’s for you.”
“I’ll just take it back here,” she said, walking into her cubicle. “Hello, this is Detective Powers.”
“Detective, this is Dr. Matheson at the National Zoo,” the voice said. “Steve Peterson from National Geographic is here with me. We just finished the autopsies on the apes. They are definitely Bilis. The bigger one is a male and the smaller one is a female. There’s something else you should know, Detective . . . the female has given birth twice.”
M.J. was quiet for a few seconds and then said, “I see, Doctor. Thank you,” and hung up the phone.
EPILOGUE
BASED ON M.J.’S ENCOUNTERS with the apes on Difficult Run and Dr. Matheson’s autopsy findings, the Park Police recommended to the Director of the National Park Service that Great Falls Park be closed until the remaining animals could be found and either captured or killed.
The official reason for the closure of the park was given as “major trail and facility renovations.” The main entrance gate was kept locked and a uniformed Park Police officer was stationed at the entrance to Difficult Run to prevent access to the park from that direction.
A Park Police SWAT team was assigned to positions in the forest along Mather Gorge from sundown until sunrise. They were equipped with night vision goggles and tranquilizer rifles provided by the National Zoo.
After a week, the SWAT team members spotted the two apes in the forest—not far from the meadow where M.J. and Dodd had placed the trail camera. They were able to fire tranquilizer darts into both animals, which were then taken to a temporary enclosure at the National Zoo’s Conservation and Research Center in Front Royal, Virginia. Dr. Matheson determined that the male was about ten years old and the female about six years old, and that the female was too immature to have produced any offspring.
M.J. and Jake met with the parents of the two murdered boys to explain the circumstances surrounding their deaths. After the initial shock of learning that their sons had been killed by an animal, they expressed a sense of relief in knowing that the murders were not the act of a deranged human. They thanked M.J. and Jake for bringing some degree of closure to this tragedy in their lives.
In late 2006, the Bili apes were moved to a permanent facility at the National Zoo adjacent to the Great Ape House. Once the facility was opened to the public, signs were placed all along the viewing area that said FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY STRICTLY PROHIBITED.
M.J. was presented with a commendation medal. She never visited the National Zoo to see the captive apes.
Acknowledgements
By its very nature, writing is a solitary endeavor. But along the way, and after a book is finished, writers rely on information, advice, criticism and support that can only come from others. With that in mind, I would like to thank the following:
My wonderful wife, Nikki, who has been my advisor and loving critic throughout; Karen Washburn, resident historian of Great Falls for her advice, historical and otherwise; Lieutenant Commander John Childs, Medical Corps, USN for his invaluable advice on medical details; John Weldin for his tutoring on the finer points of distance running; Captain Thomas Neider for providing technical advice as well as insights into the day-to-day activities and culture of the U.S. Park Police; and all of the instructors at the U.S. Park Police Citizens’ Academy for reminding me what it means to be a law enforcement officer.
Dee Jessee and Julia Matheson who read multiple versions of the manuscript and gave thoughtful suggestions and encouragement with each reading; Steve Peterson, Viddy Comsa, Rosalie Peterson and Lawrence Martinelli who were kind enough to read the manuscript and give me their honest appraisal; and my dog, Noochie, who hiked hundreds of miles with me through Great Falls Park while I was writing the book in my head.
A very special thanks to Sarah Mishler, editor extraordinaire.
Lastly, I owe a debt of gratitude to the late Marian Reed and Milburn Sanders for their recollections of growing up in Great Falls.
About the Author
John Dibble is an attorney in Washington, D.C. He has served as a special assistant to a U.S. senator, a commanding officer in the U.S. Navy, and a prosecuting attorney. He currently serves as Chairman of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund, which built and maintains the Wall on the National Mall.
He lives in Great Falls, Virginia with his wife and daughter.