by Aimée Thurlo
“From what I’ve heard so far this guy sounds like a loon,” Lucas said. “I recommend we suit up and go out there expecting a war. If it goes down easy, then we’ll take it as a win.”
“Who wants to make the initial approach and try to get him to come out and talk?” Big Ed asked. “You want to handle this?” he asked the FBI agents.
Blalock looked at Ella, then back at him. “I was going to suggest Clah. Her track record for cheating death is pretty good, and it’s her turf,” Blalock said with a half grin, then growing serious added, “But Lucas and I will go with your people to provide backup.”
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to be the first face he sees.” Ella took a deep breath. “I vote for an initial low-key approach. I’ll drive up alone and the rest of you stand by behind cover and hidden from view. There isn’t much ground cover, but there are plenty of low hills and boulders that have tumbled down from the Hogback just east of there. We’ll play it by ear after that and see what he does.”
“When you first get there, stay in your unit, and see if he’ll come out to meet you. You’ll be safer outside,” Big Ed said.
“And he’ll think I’m treating him like a traditionalist,” Ella said with a nod. “Good plan. That little courtesy might make things go easier. I like it.” Ella looked at the others. “Any objections?” When no one spoke, she added, “Then we’re all set. Let’s roll.”
Bruce Smiley’s wood-frame house was north of the highway and just west of the twenty-mile-long ridge known as Hogback. His closest neighbor, Victor Garcia, lived nearly two miles east on the sliver of non-reservation that stood between the Navajo Nation to the west and south, and the Ute Mountain Indian Reservation on the north.
While the other officers were getting into position, Ella decided to pay Victor a visit first. The man’s house, in the middle of a rough section of desert dotted by old coal mines and depleted oil wells, gave him an unobstructed view of the road all the way to Smiley’s house. There was no telling what he might have seen that could be helpful to them now. All things considered, it was worth a stop.
Ella let the backup team know what she was doing, then proceeded to Garcia’s house.
Victor was working in his small vegetable patch as she drove up. Jabbing his shovel into the ground, he came over to her. “Can I help you?”
Victor was in his early eighties, but he looked strong and in good health. Although he didn’t live on the Rez, Ella could see he had Navajo in him.
“How’s it going?” she greeted.
“It’s a good day for loosening up the soil,” he answered, then wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “What brings the Navajo Tribal Police here? I usually see the Utes instead.”
“I hope you don’t mind. You’re not really in my jurisdiction, but I’d like to ask you a question or two.”
“About my neighbor?” He gestured to the small pitched roof house in the mouth of a canyon to the west.
“What makes you assume that?”
“That’s one very angry young man over there. I always figured that it was only a matter of time before he got into trouble. Mind you, I have very little to do with him, but we run into each other whenever his goats get out and come over to browse in my cornfield. At first I’d try to help him round them up, but he always acted as if I was actually saying he couldn’t handle it alone so I quit offering.”
“I didn’t realize he had any animals,” Ella said casually.
“For a long time he did. But in the last few months he sold them all. I thought he was getting ready to move on but then he got involved in reservation politics when the gun issue came up. That’s all he talks about whenever he comes by. His truck is filled with bumper stickers and his favorite says that the only way you’ll get his gun is by prying it from his cold, dead hands.”
Ella had seen the sticker dozens of times. Many law-abiding New Mexicans had that particular one on their vehicles. But violent lawbreakers who had a personal armory gave that particular sticker an entirely new meaning.
“You’ve got a real clear look at his home from here,” she said, looking in that direction. “Have you seen anything unusual going on down there?”
“You mean besides the fact that he’s been target shooting that automatic rifle of his? He’s aiming into the side of an arroyo, but it still makes me nervous when I hear a bullet ricochet. I spoke to him about it, but it didn’t do any good.”
“Is he a pretty good shot, or could you tell?” Ella asked.
“He showed me his targets—which by the way are drawings of people aiming guns straight at you, not the circular bull’s-eye type. He groups his shots tightly and aims for the head.”
“How far is the arroyo from here?” she asked.
“It runs kind of northeast and southwest just on the other side of the fence down there. That’s the reservation boundary, you know.”
She saw where he was pointing and nodded. “Does the rifle fire full auto, or does he just squeeze off several quick shots?”
“I think it’s an M-16. He fires it full auto in short bursts, three or four rounds at a time. Maybe he doesn’t want to overheat his weapon.”
“Did you notice if he has any other firearms like that?”
“I can tell you he’s got at least one M-1 carbine, a para-trooper model with the folding stock. The others I’ve seen him toting around are an M-1 Garand and a big Colt forty-five autoloader. I asked him once why he had all those former military weapons and he said he’s been collecting them for years.”
Once again she remembered Payestewa’s suggestion. Before coming here, they’d done a quick check and found that Smiley didn’t have the federal firearms permit necessary to own an automatic weapon. Arresting him on that charge would be one way to solve the problem if they couldn’t get anything more substantial on him right away.
“Does your neighbor get many visitors?”
“Not really. I saw him shooting one time with a Navajo man I’ve met at the trading post a few times—I think his name is Norman—but that’s about it.”
“Do you remember seeing your neighbor at home yesterday afternoon at around three-thirty or so?”
“He drove away at around two as I was putting away my gardening tools. I know it was two because that’s when I go inside to watch my favorite TV show, Doctor Bill. Then, when I came back outside after dinner, at around six to do a little cultivating, I saw him drive up. Of course he might have come back and left again while I was in the house.”
“Thanks for your help,” Ella said, walking back to her unit.
“If you’re thinking of trying to arrest him for something, you better take some reinforcements. No one forces that guy to do anything he doesn’t want to do, and he’s liable to put up a fight.”
Ella considered it. “Would it be all right if Sheriff Taylor put one of his deputies up here on your land for a few hours?”
“Like a sniper?” He shrugged. “If you really think he’s done something bad, then go ahead. But tell me, are you going to question him about that fire at the councilman’s house? The one that killed the poor woman in the wheelchair?”
Ella’s radar went up. “What makes you ask that?”
“The timing . . . and the fact that I just remembered something. I had to go to the Quick Stop for a few groceries yesterday morning and I saw him outside by the gas pumps. He was filling up gas cans and loading them into his truck. He never saw me because when he came in to pay he got into an argument with the clerk and I ducked behind the row where the dry goods are. After he stormed outside, I went up to pay for what I bought and I saw him through the window. He walked off the concrete pad and grabbed up a handful of mud where the water had pooled from spray. You know how they wash off the concrete with a spray hose?”
Ella nodded and smiled, wondering when he’d get to the point.
“Well, he smeared the mud all over the license plate, then flipped his hand to splash a little more mud on the bumper. When he tur
ned around, probably to see if anyone was watching him, I stepped to the right and the cash register hid me,” he said. “I remember thinking that he was acting like a crook straight out of the Dick Tracy comic strips. Do you remember those in the newspaper?”
“Yes, I do.” Actually Ella knew who Dick Tracy was, but the comics were a little before her time. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me this morning,” Ella said, getting back into the vehicle. Victor sure liked to talk. Maybe it was because he lived basically by himself out here and missed the kind of conversation TV just couldn’t offer him. But he’d given her valuable information.
As soon as she was under way, she called Blalock and updated him. “Call Sheriff Taylor, and get him moving on this. We need one of his SWAT boys with sniper training up there, just in case. The owner has given his permission.”
“I’ll do it right now. Drive back to the main highway and take a break. We’re still waiting for the county officers to get into position.”
It was around two when Ella pulled up in front of Smiley’s house. According to plan she stayed in the vehicle, waiting and trying not to remember that a high-velocity rifle bullet wasn’t likely to be deflected by the windshield. Time passed slowly. Someone pushed the curtains in the living room back enough to peer at her, but no one showed up at the door.
Blalock hailed her on the radio. “Don’t get out of that vehicle unless you place some solid cover between you and the house. Something about this stinks. He should have come out by now.”
“He’s there—or someone is,” Ella said. “I’m going to step out and lean against the side of my unit, but I’ll make sure the vehicle is between me and him. Let’s see what happens.”
Ella got out, then waited. After fifteen minutes passed, she got tired of waiting. Following a spur-of-the-moment idea, she pretended to see someone coming up from behind the house. She held her hand over her eyes, peering into the sun, and called out, “Good morning!”
Ella walked around her vehicle, taking a few steps toward the house when a voice suddenly boomed out from behind the front window. “Don’t come any closer. Get off my property.”
“Mr. Smiley, is that you?” Ella called out, then pretended to look into the distance again.
“Cut that out. There’s no one out there but you.”
Ella gave up the pretense. It had already accomplished what she’d hoped for—getting his attention. “I’m with the Tribal Police, and I just need to ask you a few questions. If you don’t want me in your home, can you come outside?”
He stuck a rifle barrel out the window and fired a shot. Ella saw it coming, dove to the ground, and rolled behind her unit, coming up in a crouch behind the engine block with her pistol in hand.
“That was a warning,” Smiley yelled. “If I’d meant to shoot you, you’d be dead now.”
Ella heard a call coming over the radio, then her cell phone started ringing. Opening the car door, she picked up the handheld. “I’m all right. He didn’t appear to be aiming at me.”
At that precise moment, the cell phone went silent. It had probably been Justine, and she’d heard Ella’s radio response.
“We’re moving in, Clah. Stay in place and keep your head down,” Blalock said first. “Taylor is here. He and his men will cover the north and east in case he rabbits on us.”
Justine and Neskahi spoke next. They were coming from the east. With Blalock behind her to the south, Payestewa accompanying him, Smiley had no escape route. Before long more Tribal Police units and county sheriff deputies had come to help.
“You’re surrounded, Mr. Smiley,” Ella called out to him. “Set your weapon down and come out now.”
There was no response. As one of the county sheriff deputies made a dash toward a large boulder fifty feet from the house, Smiley fired from one of the windows to the east. Ella saw the deputy fall to the ground hard, clutching his leg.
“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Smiley yelled out from inside. “Leave me alone. I’m on my own property and I haven’t broken any laws.”
“You have now. You’ve wounded a deputy,” Ella countered. “But we don’t have to do this the hard way. Lay down your weapon and come out.”
Blalock pulled up in his unit, then hurried toward her. “There’s no cover anywhere close to the house, so coming up undetected is out. He’s got a clear line of fire all around for a hundred feet.”
“I’ll shoot to kill if anyone tries to enter my home,” Smiley called out. “You’ve been warned.”
“I want his phone service disconnected,” Ella said. “I don’t want him calling out or anyone calling in. We also need to cut off power to the house.”
“He’s already done that himself and started up the generator. It’ll run for hours probably,” Blalock pointed out.
“Can we disable it with something? Like a well-placed bullet?”
“It’s over there beside the propane tank. If we hit that gasoline-powered generator we could start a fire—right next to the propane. The last thing any of us will ever hear is a loud boom.”
“He’s been getting ready for us, that’s obvious.” Ella raised Justine on her handheld radio. “Turn off his phone service.”
“We can shut off his regular phone, but if he has a cell, it’s going to take a while to find out what carrier he uses.”
Before Ella could reply, Sheriff Taylor called Ella on the cell. “I have bad news. A camera crew from the cable station in Farmington bypassed our roadblock by going cross-country. They’re being detained by my deputies about a quarter of a mile from your position.”
“Can you keep them there?”
“Yes, but I thought you should know that they’re claiming Mr. Smiley invited them.”
“Our Mr. Smiley?” Ella asked.
“He told them he wants to be interviewed on the air, live,” Taylor said.
“No way. He’s not getting any publicity until he’s in custody.”
Taylor spoke to one of his deputies, then added, “Make that two camera crews. A second station is at the roadblock now.”
Ella considered her options, then called Justine. “Have you found out yet if he has a cell phone? I need to talk to him.”
Less than two minutes later, while Justine was still looking into it, dispatch at the Shiprock station called Ella on her cell phone. “We have a call from Bruce Smiley. He’s demanding to speak to you.”
“He just saved me some time. Give him my number,” Ella said, then updated Justine.
About two minutes later, her cell phone rang again. “This is Detective Clah,” Ella said.
“You’re the woman who came up first. Are you really in charge, or should I talk to someone else?”
“You’re talking to the right person.”
“You sure? I’ve seen FBI jackets and county cops.”
“This is Rez land—our turf. The FBI is here because you’re known to be in possession of at least one unlicensed automatic weapon and that’s a federal violation. Since you live right beside the boundary between our jurisdiction and the county, sheriff’s department deputies are also here. I’m here on behalf of the tribe because we need to question you regarding the death of Mrs. Hunt and the arson attack on the Hunt residence.”
“I’ll consider coming out after I talk to the television reporters. Send them in when they get here.”
“They won’t be allowed to come into the perimeter at all until you’re disarmed and in our custody. Lay down your weapons and come out peacefully. Then you can have a few minutes to make a statement to the press or whoever you want.”
“How stupid do you think I am? The minute I step out this door, you’ll blow my head off.”
“With all those TV cameras aimed at your door from behind our lines? We’re not stupid either. We’d like this to end peacefully as much as you do.”
“Don’t lie to me. By now you know exactly what happened at the Hunts’ or you wouldn’t be here. It wasn’t my fault the woman couldn’t get out of her house.
There was no car there so how could I have known anyone was inside? All I was doing was standing up for the rights of the Dineh before those fools on the council leave us defenseless. Cops and crooks will always have guns.”
“You’ll have your day in court,” Ella replied, weary already of his twisted logic. “That’s your right. We don’t want to shoot you nor do we want you to shoot at us. If what you really want is to die in a spectacular firefight that’ll be broadcast across the entire country, it’s not going to happen. We’re prepared to wait you out for as long as it takes. Eventually you’ll fall asleep or the generator will run out of gas.”
There was a long pause, but Ella didn’t interrupt the silence. Finally, Smiley spoke again. “You’ve had firsthand experience on what it’s like to die, Clah. Tell me about it.”
This was definitely not something she wanted to discuss with anyone, but at least when he was talking he wasn’t firing his weapon. “First, I didn’t die. Without immediate medical intervention the dead tend to stay dead. All that experience did for me was bring home the fact that life is too precious to waste.”
Ella waited, then realized he’d hung up. She tried calling back but all she got was a message saying the call couldn’t go through. It hadn’t been Justine’s doing, so Smiley must have turned off the phone himself. She was trying to think of something to yell over to him when a redheaded woman reporter suddenly ran up in a crouch and shoved a tape recorder in Ella’s face.
“Did you really come here to confiscate his guns? Have your actions forced this standoff?”
“How in the hell did you get over here? Get down behind the engine block! He’s already shot one deputy.”
A moment later another police unit drove up right next to hers and stopped. With her vehicle protecting him from direct fire, Neskahi slipped out the door, staying low, and came up.
He grasped the reporter’s arm firmly, then looked at Ella. “Sorry! She got out of her vehicle at the roadblock and managed to get a head start before I saw her.”