by Gary Noesner
In addition to the Freemen ideologues—Schweitzer, Peterson, Dale Jacobi, Rodney Skurdal, and Steve Hance—there were also Russ Landers and his wife, Dana Dudley, who were simply con artists and swindlers with a long string of charges against them. For them, the Freemen belief system provided a pretext to flout the laws they had broken. Another family, the Mangums, were also on the lam, fleeing outstanding criminal charges from another state. And of course there were the Clarks and the related Stantons, too.
Eventually, I brought the entire negotiation team up from Billings and we established our negotiation operations center in one of the fairground buildings. Before the larger team arrived, I spent the first cold nights in that unheated barn sleeping on a cot near the phone banks our technicians had set up. We wanted to have someone available at all times of the day if any of the Freemen locations called out to us, but they never did.
In time we brought in portable heaters, but they produced only enough warmth to prevent actual frostbite. When the rest of the negotiation team arrived a few days later, we moved in to spartan but warmer motel rooms in Jordan. Life became more bearable when hot showers and warm meals became part of the routine.
The primary locations on the properties were the school building where the Freemen classes had been taught; the residence of the Stanton family; the four fishing cabins; Emmett’s residence; Ralph’s residence; Ralph’s trailer, where Landers and Dudley lived; and the house of Emmett’s son Edwin.
Edwin’s wife, Janet, a nurse at the local medical clinic in Jordan known to be uninvolved with the Freemen activities or ideology, simply went on with her normal life. We stopped her car the first day as she left the property to go to work, and we explained that we were trying to work out a peaceful resolution with the group. She was cordial but told us that her husband and the others refused to speak with us.
“I can’t control these men,” she said. “I don’t know what to tell you. And right now I’d just like to get to my job.”
We decided to permit Janet to come and go as she wished, believing that later on she might become a useful liaison between the outside world and the close circle in which the Freemen lived. Also on that first day, Clark neighbor Jeff Loomis visited the Freemen and then agreed to talk with us. He reported essentially the same thing that Janet had, namely, that the Freemen outright refused to speak with the FBI.
On the second day, a couple of members of the right-wing Montana Militia showed up at the command post and demanded to speak with the FBI and find out what was going on with the siege. We were under no obligation to explain ourselves to them, but rather than brush aside their request, Special Agent Tom Canady, the lead investigative case agent, and I were designated to talk with them and try to defuse any potential problems they might cause.
Tom and I met with the militia members at the Hell Creek Bar in Jordan that afternoon. The four of us introduced ourselves and then sat down at a booth in the back to have a cup of coffee.
The two militiamen were dressed for winter ranch work in jeans and heavy fleece-lined coats. They greeted us warily, as if this could be a trap and we might suddenly cart them off to jail. With narrowed eyes and jaws jutting forth, they also seemed primed for a confrontation.
I figured we had nothing to hide from these guys, so instead of playing tough or arguing, which evidently was what they’d expected, Tom and I tried to disarm them with openness and candor. They asked us why we were doing what we were doing, and we gave them detailed information about the Freemen’s fraudulent and threatening activities. Tom described the outstanding federal charges that had been brought for bank fraud, embezzlement, aiding and abetting, conspiracy to impede or injure a federal officer, mailing threatening communications, mail fraud, interference with commerce by threat of violence, felony possession of firearms, possession of a firearm by a fugitive, and carrying firearms during a crime of violence. These were in addition to numerous state charges. I told them that we were trying to avoid the kind of outcome that had happened at Waco and Ruby Ridge, and that we planned to negotiate in good faith with the Freemen.
We wanted to make sure these men understood that we weren’t in Montana to stamp out freedom of expression; instead, we were there to arrest individuals who had violated the law and threatened their fellow citizens. We explained that the Freemen’s actions had left us no choice. We even explained the low-key approach we were taking, aimed at a peaceful resolution.
One of the militiamen asked if U.S. military personnel and tanks were being used to surround Justus Township. I knew that the Posse Comitatus Act, the law that prohibits the use of military forces to enforce civilian law, was very much a mainstay of militia ideology. I assured him that the military was not involved in any way, adding that in fact none of the authorities had set foot on the Clark ranch or other properties. I explained that only FBI and Montana Highway Patrol personnel were involved in the operation and that they were staying a safe and respectful distance away.
I offered to personally drive both of them wherever they wanted to go to see for themselves. No response. For each and every additional question they raised we answered respectfully and truthfully, effectively taking the wind out of their sails. We gave them our names and numbers and requested that they call us if they had any further questions, heard any rumors, or wanted to know what we were doing. We asked them to please explain all of these things to others in their group so they would know the truth.
As we left the bar, these men shook our hands much more vigorously than they had coming in, nodded, and made eye contact. They weren’t saying it, but it appeared they appreciated the time we had spent with them. We never heard from the Montana Militia again.
If we’d disarmed at least some of our right-wing critics, we still had the media to contend with. Local and national television and print reporters began to descend in droves. Most were up front in saying they had come to witness another disaster like Ruby Ridge or Waco, but FBI media coordinators worked to dispel their prejudices. We did not want inflammatory coverage, and we certainly did not want to give them another tragic story to report.
Once it became clear that the Freemen were not going to speak with us, we moved on to the next phase of our plan, which was the use of third-party intermediaries.
As is usually the case in hostage/barricade/suicide incidents, we had a briefing book that contained whatever background information was available on the subjects. For Justus Township, that book included overhead photos of the land and houses and of each individual, as well as family histories that included marriages, relatives, and friends.
We had to be cautious in using intermediaries because the people most often in a position to help can be difficult to control. They frequently have their own agendas—a grievance, perhaps, or a desire to influence. Also, bringing them to the scene might expose them to danger.
Family members sometimes criticize police for not letting them speak with loved ones during a crisis incident. In truth, the police rarely know enough about the existing relationships between the perpetrator, family members, and friends to take the risk. In one case, a distraught husband found out his wife was having an affair, took her hostage, and threatened to kill her. After many fruitless hours trying to negotiate with the man, the local police sought out potential intermediaries. An individual came forward and claimed he was the perpetrator’s best friend. He told the cops he was confident that he could talk reason to his pal. The police readily agreed to allow this man to make a telephone call into the apartment to speak with the perpetrator. When the perpetrator answered the phone and heard this man’s voice, he exploded in rage and fired his weapon. The SWAT team immediately forced its way in, only to find both him and his wife dead. As it turned out, the man who had volunteered to call in was the wife’s lover. It’s important to fully interview such individuals and try to find out as much as possible about the existing relationship before deciding whether or not to use them as intermediaries.
With the Freemen we did
not have a typical situation. We faced some self-deluded, hardheaded, and confused individuals who were potentially very dangerous but in our opinion not suicidal. Some had distorted ideological perspectives; others simply didn’t want to face justice in the courts. The hard-core ideologues—Skurdal, Jacobi, Landers—believed that by avoiding talking with us they could deny FBI jurisdiction over them. The Clarks just wanted to keep their property and be left alone. Unfortunately, given their actions, this was no longer possible.
Within the first five days of the incident, my negotiation team identified, interviewed, coached, and deployed fifteen intermediaries. After we briefed them on what we were after and how to handle themselves, they then made their own way onto the Justus Township property and arranged to meet with their friend or loved one. This was done in a low-key, casual way that did not arouse anyone’s suspicions, at least not at first.
After each visitor came out, we again met at the fairgrounds or the coffee shop to debrief them. We gained a clearer picture of what the Freemen were thinking, but otherwise, results were mixed. Sometimes the person would say, “I sat down with him for an hour and he wouldn’t budge. He’s dead set on hanging tough.” At other times what we heard was, “I don’t know … he seems a little worried. He may be open to coming out.”
It was my sense now that we had to attack the Freemen’s intransigence on two tracks. The first was to continue to use the intermediaries, appealing to specific individuals on a one-to-one basis. On the second track, we would identify and use people who were not personally connected to the Freemen but whom they would view as interested in discussing their political theories. These people would target the hard-core Freemen ideologues who clung to misguided beliefs about personal sovereignty. For this we called on Karl Ohs, a Montana legislator.
A staunch Republican who would go on to become lieutenant governor, Ohs was a close friend of Butch Anderson, the birth father of Val Stanton, one of the women living in Justus Township. Butch and Karl agreed to go inside to visit Val and the others, which they did repeatedly over a period of weeks.
A soft-spoken, intelligent rancher, Karl once rode his horse in to see the Freemen when the weather made the road impassable to cars. On horseback he looked exactly like the famous Marlboro Man. He had a genuine desire to help resolve this incident, and he would sacrifice a great deal of his personal time and energy over the course of the standoff. Even though the Freemen continued in their refusal to meet with the FBI and periodically rejected other intermediaries during the ordeal, they always agreed to see Karl. I focused most of my personal attention on meeting with Ohs and coordinating his many visits. With his deep roots in this community, Karl was the best possible guide to the mind-set of these fiercely independent westerners, as well as a superb ambassador.
I also spent much of my time with the senior FBI management team on the scene, briefing them at our twice-daily management team meetings. Here, unlike Waco, all the component leaders met frequently to keep on the same sheet of music. It made a huge difference to have their support and buy-in, rather than resistance. We also made sure that one of the negotiators attended each SWAT team shift briefing. We wanted to make sure that the tactical units knew everything we were doing and why.
FBI director Louis Freeh’s support for the negotiation process became very clear when he mandated that I should participate in all the daily teleconferences between him and on-site senior management in Jordan. So each day at the designated time, I would join the three or four Special Agents in Charge, along with HRT commander Roger Nisley, to participate in a telephone briefing for the director. We did not discuss Waco or Ruby Ridge, but those incidents were the subtext as we made every decision.
As the standoff continued and we reached the second week of the siege, a few of the midlevel managers began to voice concern that this situation was taking too long. Whatever their commitment to a survivalist mind-set, these Freemen were supremely self-reliant Montana ranchers, the kind of people who had elk meat in the freezer and vegetables put away from the summer. The whole time we were camped outside their land, they were free to hunt for game on that land. This was not a group that could be squeezed very easily for the basic elements of comfort and survival.
Some within the FBI began to wonder out loud if we had overlearned the lesson of past mistakes and become gun-shy, frightened to take decisive action. The FBI had been making these kinds of raids and arrests throughout our long history, so why should this incident be any different? I listened to some of this grumbling and wondered whether those who felt this way truly understood the implications for the FBI if this incident went the way of Waco and Ruby Ridge. A time might come when we had to take action to save lives, but we weren’t at that point yet.
Director Freeh soon put a stop to such complaints. During one of our conference calls for the senior managers in Montana he said, “Gary, it’s important for you to know that as your director, I am in no hurry to end this incident. I want to make sure that we take whatever time necessary to negotiate this out the right way.”
He didn’t have to refer to Waco directly. Waco was the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in every room we entered in those days.
When Director Freeh said this, I looked at all the faces around the table. My colleagues clearly understood that this was a new era in crisis management for the FBI. William Sessions, Freeh’s predecessor at the Bureau, had been a very detached administrator, which had been part of the problem. Freeh was much more hands-on, decisive, and engaged. He was on the phone with us in Montana every day. The negotiators were now setting the direction and tone, and the director was squarely behind us. End of story.
On April 4, the eleventh day of the siege, Karl Ohs, after several attempts, was at last able to facilitate a direct meeting with the Freemen, himself, and three additional Montana state legislators. We had no expectation that this one conversation was going to resolve all the differences, but we hoped that it would at least help focus and refine the issues, which might then help us find some common ground.
A table and chairs were set up in an open area near a cattle guard at the boundary of the Clark property. The Freemen drove up the road, got out of their cars and pickups, and sat down. Then Karl and the other legislators listened as the Freemen ranted about the legal system and advanced their claim that the government had no jurisdiction over them. They said they wanted to have their rights protected in common-law courts, meaning that their cases would be decided by individuals who believed as they did.
As the legislators listened, they continually urged the Freemen to address these issues in federal court and to talk directly with the FBI to resolve the standoff. They even promised to hold a legislative forum on the common-law issues. The following day, talks continued in the motor home on the property, but little if anything was accomplished. The Freemen continued to insist that the federal government had no jurisdiction over them and that they had not broken any laws. They insisted that their financial liens and checks were legal under common law. They were also angry that the FBI had trespassed on their property to arrest Schweitzer and Peterson, the event that had triggered the siege. In addition, the Clarks were not willing to leave their land, and the others, their guests who had sought refuge there, were not willing to leave to face other criminal charges.
The only problem with our post-Waco restraint was that the Freemen knew as well as we did that the FBI could not risk another televised debacle. This meant that the threat of force, the key element used to encourage most negotiations, was effectively removed. With their wells pumping water and their freezers full of food, why not just wait it out?
In our briefing materials used to coach all the intermediaries, we outlined a long list of positive police actions we had taken—or not taken, as the case might be. We had them emphasize to the Freemen that the FBI had not trespassed onto Justus Township after the arrest of Schweitzer and Peterson, and that telephone calls into the locations were respectfully kept at a minimum or discontinued
so as not to irritate them. We had made it clear that anyone was free to leave anytime they wanted. We had allowed medication to be delivered for twenty-one-year-old Casey Clark, the son of Edwin and Janet Clark. A large number of relatives and friends had been freely allowed to visit and call at their discretion. At the Freemen’s request, the media had been kept far away. The Freemen had been allowed to meet with Montana state legislators, and through the legislators, the Freemen had received an unbiased report on the conditions of Schweitzer, Peterson, and Richard Clark, another relative and Freeman arrested separately, away from Jordan. Furthermore, we had not set up any high-power lights or broadcast any loud noises, and no individuals in Justus Township had been harassed in any way. Electricity and water service had not been interrupted.
No press statements critical of the Freemen had been issued by the FBI. There had been no fly-overs by FBI helicopters. When lumped together, these made a compelling case in support of our position, but like the prisoners at Lucasville, the Freemen needed time to calm down and begin to think more rationally.
Justus Township neighbor Jeff Loomis became a regular contact. We had Jeff carry in a note that outlined three basic areas where we were willing to compromise:
We stated that we were extremely flexible on the mechanics of their surrender—the how, the when, and the procedure.
We were willing to make any arrangements suitable to the Freemen that would guarantee the preservation of their so-called evidence. This consisted of the voluminous common-law writings they had assembled that they felt supported their case. We promised to allow any mutually agreed-upon third party to safeguard these papers for their defense team to use in court.