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Chasing Deception

Page 24

by Dave Milbrandt


  Dan stopped at Photo Editor Henry Zeder’s desk. “We have a possible hostage situation at city hall. Who can you spare for a couple of hours?”

  Henry scanned the scheduling calendar and then looked at Jeff, who was one of the best photographers at the Courier. “Wang, why don’t you take this one? I’ll tell the reporter we need to reschedule the assignment.”

  He collected his already-packed camera bags and headed for his car. Jim and Dale were getting ready go out as well. Jim called Melissa on her cell phone as they were heading out to Dale’s car. She was coming back from an assignment in Ontario. She answered on the second ring and he got her up to speed on what was happening. She had to file her story today, but she made him promise to call her in an hour.

  “Don’t get yourself hurt on your last day at work, OK?” Jim knew Melissa’s light tone belied her inner fears.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  26

  Jim called P.J. on his cell phone as they sped to city hall. The Emerald Valley Police Department spokesman said shots had been fired in the vicinity and he would meet them at the scene.

  “So, you will be using hostage negotiators or a SWAT team?” Jim asked.

  “Actually, and you did not hear this from me, we offered our SWAT unit, but the chief said he was using an Active Shooter team.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You covered the lockdown at Emerald Valley High School a year ago May, right?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, while the officers on the scene may have not used the term, that was the procedure they followed.” P.J. paused. “You said you were riding with Henzie? He did a story on the changes we made to the program a couple of months ago. I have another call coming in, but I’m sure your partner can fill you in on how Active Shooter works.” P.J. hung up.

  Jim turned to Dale and asked him about the program.

  “The Active Shooter program was developed in the wake of the Columbine High School shooting in 1999. Basically, law enforcement agencies weren’t satisfied with how the situation was handled, so they developed some new tactics. I went out in June and watched Emerald Valley officers update their training in light of the event at the high school you wrote about last year. It’s pretty intense.”

  “How so?” Jim vaguely remembered Dale’s article, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time

  “The way it works is that a handful of officers enter the building in a tight formation. They go from room to room looking for the shooter. When I went, they were practicing during the weekend on a junior high school campus, but they said the techniques can be used anywhere. At any rate, they sweep through the building, sometimes stepping over injured people so they can get to the shooter.”

  “Wow, that pretty harsh.”

  “Maybe so, but they want to get to the shooter before anyone else is hurt. They clear the building pretty quickly and check for explosives that may have been left behind. Then paramedics can come in and treat people.”

  “And what happens to the shooter?”

  “They neutralize the threat.”

  Jim’s eyes grew wide. “What does that mean? Do they kill the person?”

  Dale nodded. “If they need to. Usually they don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  —

  4:23 p.m. Friday

  As they pulled up to city hall, they noticed the police had cordoned off the street in front of the civic center with squad cars. Dale pulled into the shopping center across the street. Jim noticed the ABC news van in the parking lot.

  “Look, the competition has arrived.” Jim pointed out the cameraman unloading equipment from the vehicles. “That was fast.”

  “They have police scanners just like we do. I’m sure a few more of their brethren will be joining them soon enough.” Dale knew from experience this was only the beginning of the media frenzy.

  As they approached the scene, they heard the whirl of helicopters overhead. Jim looked up and noticed the NBC logo on the side of one of the aircraft. Since the police station was only a couple blocks away, the reporters were not surprised to see police vehicles and yellow caution tape everywhere they looked.

  “They’re closing off the access points,” Dale observed.

  Since he was the cops reporter, Dale took the lead, approaching a cluster of officers at a command post behind a black-and-white squad car. He spoke with Sgt. Thomas Welch, the watch commander in charge.

  “Hey Tom, what can you tell me?” Dale pulled out his notepad and removed the cap from his pen. The television reporters had joined them and were taking notes they would use for their on-camera reports.

  Welch covered the basic details. “There have been reports of shots fired in the building. We don’t know if there are any victims, but there were several people in the offices and no one has come out yet. We have an Active Shooter team in the building and they are making a thorough search. They have not found the shooter yet. That’s all I know right now. You’ll have to step back to that far curb for your own safety.”

  The television reporters stepped back and began talking to their crews, while Dale joined Jim and Jeff. He briefed them on what was happening.

  “Now we wait,” Jeff said.

  Dale sighed. “You know, I don’t think this one’s going to have a happy ending.”

  —

  Jorge Rodriguez was leading the four officers in the diamond-shaped formation. He was armed with a Heckler & Koch submachine gun while the three other officers were carrying handguns. They all wore bulletproof vests and helmets. Officers Phillip Kinney and Erin Goodman were to his right and left, while Jack Monte brought up the rear. When they entered the building they had rushed quickly passed two injured clerical workers. One was likely dead, with a gaping wound to the head, while the other was seriously injured. They also found a janitor and a secretary cowering in fear in the corner of a supply closet. Quickly and methodically, they swept the first two floors. They radioed the injuries into the sergeant, confirmed the suspect has not been found yet and they were headed up stairs to continue the search.

  Welch acknowledged he had received the message. “Remember Rodriguez, do whatever you can not to injure anyone who is unarmed.”

  “Affirmative.”

  As they entered the stairwell, two shots rang out from the floor above them. The officers reflexively hunched down and visually scanned the area before proceeding swiftly up the stairs, remaining alert for any further shots.

  Upon reaching the third floor, the officers heard talking in a back office. The team rapidly stepped over a secretary as they made their way to Councilman Holcombe’s office.

  They kicked the slightly ajar door all the way open and almost leapt into the room, surprising its two occupants, Larry Holcombe and Jeremiah Harmon. Holcombe had his back to the door and had turned around when he heard the noise. Jeremiah grabbed the councilman and put a semiautomatic gun to his head. Within seconds, Rodriguez had his weapon trained on Jeremiah, even though Holcombe blocked most of his body.

  Kinney and Goodman noticed two bullet holes in the ceiling above them, deducing those likely were the shots they had heard moments ago.

  “Let him go!” Rodriguez barked. He had been trained to eliminate a threat as quickly as possible, but all that changed because the shooter had a hostage.

  “You’re going to have to kill the fine councilman here to get to me!” The crazed glint in the assailant’s eyes told Rodriguez that Jeremiah didn’t seem to care if he and Holcombe both died.

  Rodriguez changed the tone in his voice to reduce the tension that filled the room. “Listen man, it doesn’t have to go down that way. If you let him go, nobody else has to die. What do you say?”

  “I say this man deserves to die,” Jeremiah replied. “I say it was his meddling with the ballot measure and all that made us move to Crestline. You all were looking to blame the death of my followers on me, but he is the one who drove us up there. It is his fault! He is the one who should pay the
price!”

  As Jeremiah continued to ramble, Rodriguez formulated a plan to resolve the situation. He estimated the distance between them to be about 10 feet. He knew couldn’t aim for the head because if he missed, he might hit Holcombe. A couple of seconds later, a plan came to him. It’s risky, but it’s the best I can do. He focused again on Jeremiah’s words.

  “He’s even responsible for the death of his own daughter, Angela! She was such a beautiful woman. She was going to have my child, did you know that?” His voice was a disturbing blend of tenderness and anger. “But when she called her father, he put doubts in her heart. He tried to convince her to betray me and leave the compound. She was wavering in her devotion to me and had to be punished for her sins. She died before our child came into this world. And it’s all because of you!” Jeremiah shoved the pistol harder against the councilman’s head on the last syllable as he continued his tirade.

  Rodriguez addressed Jeremiah in a low but firm tone. “Drop the gun, pal, and we can all walk out of here just fine.”

  “Shut up, man!” Jeremiah exploded. “What if I don’t want to ‘walk out of here just fine’?”

  Rodriguez sighed inwardly. This just went from bad to so much worse.

  “Besides, this man needs to pay for his past! Did you know the fine councilman loved his job more than his lovely daughter? That’s what drove her to drugs in the first place?” Jeremiah turned his attention back to Holcombe “After her arrest, all she wanted was your love. But you just cared about your precious reputation! You know, I should send you to her to explain what a horrible father you were and how you got her killed! You could tell her ‘hi’ for me. How does that sound?”

  Rodriguez saw Jeremiah’s attention was totally focused on Holcombe and hoped his original plan might just work. This will be the best opportunity you’re going to get. While Jeremiah was virtually screaming, the lead officer discretely moved his thumb to flip a switch on the MP5 to change the weapon from three-round burst to single shot.

  Oh, and one more thing, officer.”

  “What’s that?” Keep him talking and he’ll drop his guard.

  “I believe James T. Mitchell from the Courier is outside. Could you let him know I personally picked his cousin, Vince, to serve the grape juice at our final ceremony? Can you believe it? He killed all those people and he didn’t even know what was in those cups. Tell James that’s what he gets for all those terrible things he said about me in his paper. You can’t sin against me and not be punished!”

  At the same time, Jeremiah’s expression changed as the fury seemed to bleed out of his face and body and once tense muscles relaxed. Rodriguez’s thumb froze as he waited for Jeremiah’s next move. Maybe this can end without any more dead bodies.

  As almost a confirmation of that hope, Jeremiah quickly released Holcombe and shoved him to the ground, simultaneously lowering his gun. But just as Rodriguez considered taking a step forward to close the gap between the two, a sickly serene smile formed on Jeremiah’s face as he raised his weapon again.

  Before he could complete the motion, Rodriguez, Kinney and Goodman reflexively pulled the triggers on their guns, emptying several rounds into Jeremiah. The former pastor and con man screamed out in pain. Life ebbed from him as his body slammed against the wall a couple feet away. Rodriguez kicked Jeremiah’s gun away from him as his body lay motionless on the floor while Goodman made sure the councilman, who was cowering behind the room’s desk, was uninjured.

  After placing two fingers on Jeremiah’s neck to feel for a pulse he knew wasn’t there, Rodriguez radioed the sergeant. “Suspect is down. Repeat, suspect is down.”

  —

  The paramedics who had been waiting outside rushed into the building with their gear. They treated the injured woman on the first floor and examined the councilman, but found no injuries.

  Several minutes later, Deputy Coroner Sally Martinez assisted paramedics as they rolled the three filled gurneys out of the building. The police wouldn’t say which black-zipped bag contained the slain assailant, so Jeff and other photographers and cameramen took photos of all three. Jeff knew the editors at the Courier might be squeamish about running a body bag photo, but the only other good shots he had were of the Active Shooter team coming out of the building, and he knew they probably would want to run multiple photos in print and online.

  P.J. had arrived on scene during the confrontation between Jeremiah and the team. He was briefed on the outcome and gave a press conference about a quarter hour after the incident ended.

  “At this time, I can confirm the following information: a few minutes before 4 p.m., Jeremiah Harmon, a.k.a. Gerald Hartley, entered this building and shot several people before taking Councilman Holcombe hostage. Our officers responded to the scene and made a thorough search of the building, discovering the suspect in the councilman’s office. The suspect released the councilman but then raised his weapon in a threatening manner. Since the officers had repeatedly asked the suspect to drop his weapon, they had every reason to assume his intent was to injure or kill them. The officers were then forced to shoot Harmon in self-defense. He was pronounced dead by the deputy coroner on the scene at 4:47 p.m. I will have other details for you later.”

  Reporters began shouting questions before P.J. could leave the lectern.

  “Why did he want to kill the councilman?”

  “Why did he shoot the other victims?”

  “Where has Jeremiah Harmon been for the last eight months?”

  Amidst the fray, Jim had wiggled in to ask a question.

  “What was the last thing Jeremiah said before he was shot and killed?”

  P.J. recognized the voice immediately and quickly made eye contact with Jim before answering the question.

  “Harmon was a coward who chose to end his life by taking others with him. I’m not going to give him any more glory by repeating the dying words of a madman. Jeremiah Harmon is dead. Let’s let the evil he spread die with him.”

  P.J. ended the press conference and quickly walked away from the cluster of cameras and microphones. Jim gave chase until he caught up with the police department spokesman.

  “It’s just you and me, P.J. Tell me what he said.”

  “I didn’t answer that question when you asked it five minutes ago and I’m not going to answer it now.” His voice was calm without a hint of anger.

  Jim grabbed P.J.’s arm as he continued to plead. “You’re my friend. I need to know!”

  P.J. removed the reporter’s hand from his arm. “As your friend, trust me when I say you don’t want to know. Jim, your cousin is gone and you can’t bring him back. Jeremiah can’t hurt anyone else. I don’t quite know how you do it, but you’ve got to let it go.”

  Dale approached from behind and put a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Let’s go, buddy.”

  Jim complied and walked away.

  —

  As the news cameras refocused on the reporters for them to give live updates back to their respective studios, Jim called Melissa and told her what he knew. Since Dale and Jeff were likely going to be at the scene for some time, Melissa agreed to pick Jim up and give him a ride back to the office.

  Then Jim called Ken Flaherty and asked him to pull his column. He was going to write a new one.

  “Are you sure about this? We’re a bit past deadline you know.”

  “Trust me.”

  27

  5:42 p.m. Friday

  Jim entered the office and went straight to his desk. He rummaged through the cardboard box on his desk until he found what he was looking for—the Thanksgiving picture of him and Vince at the New Creation site in Crestline. He handed the snapshot to the photo technician on duty and asked him to scan the image in for the paper the next day.

  He then went with Ken to speak to Copy Editor Mike Roswell, who was designing the editorial page that day. They asked him to remove the column he had already written and switch it with the guest columnist, whose article has been laid out over three
columns on the bottom of the page. They also asked Mike to make a photo box for Jim’s new column.

  “And when will this new column be coming in?” Mike preferred to have things done early.

  “I will have it done in an hour.”

  “You’ve got 45 minutes.”

  “OK.”

  Ken arched his eyebrow in surprise. He knew Jim usually spent two to three hours writing and polishing his columns.

  “Whatever you say.” Mike started redesigning the page.

  Jim returned to his desk, said a quick prayer before placing his fingers on the keyboard.

  —

  Forty-two minutes later he informed Ken his column was finished. Jim went to the lounge to get a candy bar from the vending machine as Ken read the column. He knew it would be controversial, but he didn’t care. I’ve needed to write that column ever since last December. He knew they would probably run the article. If they protested, he always had the defense that everything he wrote was true.

  Besides, what can they do, fire me?

  Jim walked back to his desk 10 minutes later. Ken was waiting to talk to him. “I’ve read your column twice and I almost told Mike to run the other one instead. But I talked with Nelson and Keating and they said we should run the new piece. This is going to make you look bad, you know that?”

  “I’m well aware of that fact.”

  Ken shook his head. “Why did you do it, Jim? The readers never had to know this about you. That’s what we agreed to.”

  “Yeah, but the more I think about it, the more sure I am our readers have a right to know that on the biggest story of my life, I broke the rules because I cared more about my job than my family. ” Jim paused and took a deep breath. “Jeremiah Harmon is dead. It’s time to take the skeleton out of my closet and let people know what I did. Perhaps then I can get on with my life.”

 

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