Naftali Bendavid
Legal Times
July 3, 1995
QUANTICO, VA. -- A dozen masked FBI agents burst into a room full of hostages and gun-wielding terrorists, screaming, "Get down! Get down!" Three figures collapse as the FBI men open fire. Two agents hold the prostrate hostage-takers at gunpoint, while others race off to search adjacent rooms. One of the terrorists reaches haltingly for a gun; an agent kicks him and shouts, "Knock it off!"
From an adjacent observation tower, instructors in yellow T-shirts watch the scene unfold, making half-insulting comments. The nightmarish drama is surreal under the hot Virginia sun.
"You try to make it as realistic as possible," senior FBI agent Robin Montgomery says of the training scene. "You may think there are three people in the room, and it turns out there are four."
The agents are wearing Darth Vader masks, black T-shirts with "FBI" emblazoned on the front, fatigue pants, heavy black boots. This is meant to intimidate. "If the bad guys see the professionalism in the attire, they're liable to be more acquiescent," Montgomery says. "It's not like you see sometimes on TV. They don't wear luau shirts."
Welcome to the Critical Incident Response Group. Created a year ago in the aftermath of the siege near Waco, Texas, this unit is the U.S. government's best hope for resolving future confrontations and conflagrations. It brings together in one place the nation's most elite commandos, its highest-tech equipment, and its best thinking on what the FBI dryly calls "critical incidents": hostage-takings and sieges.
This new setup is an attempt to learn the lessons of Waco, where in April 1993 Branch Davidian sect members perished in a blaze when the FBItried to end a protracted siege. And it represents a major shift in FBI strategy. While many reports and hearings have focused on what went wrong at Waco, few have noted the FBI's actual reforms since the event. For the first time, all the agency's resources for tackling barricade situations -- from commandos and negotiators to snipers and psychologists -- are under one unified, high-level command.
The unit has been formed at an especially propitious time. The United States, which historically has been relatively free of terrorism, now seems to face a greater threat. The bombings at the World Trade Center and Oklahoma City are feared by many to be just the beginning. Even more frightening is the growing availability of weapons of mass destruction -- nuclear materials, spreading illegally from Eastern Europe; biological weapons, such as viruses and bacteria; and poisons, like the gas used recently in the Tokyo subway system.
A growing number of law enforcement specialists are concerned that terrorists could use such weapons in the United States. Someone has to think about exactly how the country would handle that. Someone has to spend his time imagining the most horrifying events that could ever engulf a nation.
ORDER FROM CHAOS
After more than 80 people died in the flames at Waco, there was no
shortage of critics willing to tell the FBI exactly what it had done
wrong: The Hostage Rescue Team (HRT) was too small. Commanders were
poorly trained in handling sieges. The FBI misunderstood the nature
of fringe religious groups.
Most of all, over and over again, came this message: Confusion reigned. It was not clear enough who reported to whom or which agency and which people were in charge.
"Clarification of the chain of command is extremely important," says Robert Louden, who spent 13 years as a hostage negotiator with the New York Police Department and now teaches at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York. "Not everybody can have every toy, every resource. You have to put the best people in place to do the job, with clear lines of authority."
Louis Freeh, the FBI's new director, took such comments to heart. In the aftermath of the Waco tragedy, he required 15 senior agents from around the country to be schooled in crisis management; when a confrontation erupts, he's said, he will pick one of these 15 to run the show. (At Waco, the head of the FBI's San Antonio office took charge on the ground simply because he was closest.)
Freeh also put high-ranking Justice Department officials, from Attorney General Janet Reno on down, through two days of crisis training. Meanwhile, the FBI is negotiating agreements with other agencies to clarify that the FBI alone will take the lead when major standoffs occur. But Freeh's most dramatic move was to announce in April 1994 that he was creating a completely new division of the bureau, bringing all the FBI's crisis units under it, and putting one man, Montgomery, in charge. This gives Montgomery, a 25-year FBI veteran who formerly headed the bureau's office in Portland, Ore., the flexibility to dispatch precisely those agents whose skills are needed.
Previously, a crisis prompted every FBI unit to send its specialists en masse. At a 1992 standoff with white supremacist Randy Reaver in Ruby Ridge, Idaho, in which Weaver's wife and son and a U.S. marshal died, a huge number of federal agents showed up.
"At Ruby Ridge, you ended up overnight with the third-largest city in Idaho in a potato field," Montgomery says. "I can get a quick idea from the people on the ground as to what their specific needs might be, and I have a plane available to use for a 'Noah's Ark' concept" -- that is, he can pick a couple of agents from each unit.
Not everyone is applauding the Critical Incident Response Group.
"They can reorganize all they want, but that doesn't solve the problem," says Lawrence Pratt, executive director of Gun Owners of America. "There are fundamental questions that need to be answered: Did they do the right thing [at Waco and Ruby Ridge]? Should they be doing this kind of work at all? Maybe it's time to re-examine the existence of that entire sort of police work at the federal level."
And doubtless, the FBI's efforts at reorganization will do little to mollify the militiamen nationwide who regard Waco and Ruby Ridge as showcases of federal law enforcement's tendency toward what the militias see as jack-booted thuggery.
But Montgomery says such fears are misplaced. Stressing that his unit includes negotiators and behaviorial specialists, as well as commandos, Montgomery says his true goal is to prevent confrontations in the first place. "That is where we're focusing," Montgomery says. "We are not focusing on the tactical side. It is there, it is needed, but our primary focus is on dialogue."
THEME PARK FOR COPS
Back at Quantico, Montgomery, 49, glides around the grounds of the
FBI Academy, where his headquarters are, in a navy blue Mercury Grand
Marquis. A hand-exercise grip lies alongside his cellular phone.
Montgomery has sandy hair, blond eyebrows, and a reddish complexion.
An almost imperceptible scar is etched horizontally across his chin.
He surveys a scene that resembles a theme park for cops. Helicopters thrum overhead, and the rattle of gunfire is constant. Agents arrayed at shooting ranges blast away at white targets that vaguely resemble human torsos. The ghostlike torsos turn slowly sideways to provide a tougher mark. Everyone here is color-coded: Instructors wear bright yellow, trainees dark blue, Drug Enforcement Administration officers light gray.
The jewel of Montgomery's new unit is the Hostage Rescue Team. A small, elite group created in the 1970s, the HRT is now being beefed up from 51 members to 91. These agents train for just one thing -- the siege -- and they know it better than anyone else. They can serve as snipers or storm into buildings. They can blow a hole in the wall, if that's the only way in.
Montgomery points out an indeterminate two-story wooden edifice, still under construction; when it's complete in a few months, it will simulate a labyrinthine criminal lair, and the HRT will practice storming in. To train HRTmembers to function under great fatigue, Montgomery says, they are exercised to the point of exhaustion, then given decision-making problems.
Montgomery gestures toward a hangar. "This particular helicopter can be folded up and taken with us," he says, adding that the HRT can be airborne within four hours.
Montgomery passes a group of agents from Miami who are watching a shooting expert demonstrate quick-draw techniques. This is one of the FBI's nine regional super-SWAT teams, who receive one week of training at Quantico each year.
The instructor pulls out his gun and aims it at an imaginary adversary in one motion, over and over again, his movements silky as a cat's. "Not a lot to it, is there?" he asks. "The weapon clears the holster and comes toward the target . . . safety's on . . . ready gun . . . out toward the target . . . fire."
Recently expanded to roughly 30 members each, the SWAT teams respond instantly when a crisis erupts, taking charge of the area until the HRT arrives. The agents have undergone this training a dozen times. "It may seem redundant," says Montgomery, watching from a distance. "And it's meant to be redundant as hell so the tactics are second nature."
Also part of Montgomery's operation are five full-time hostage negotiators and three agents who specialize in creating command posts -- setting up phone lines, fax machines, computers, conference areas, and systems for sifting through information.
The idea behind all this is to create interlocking teams of rescuers across the country, all familiar with each other -- a fraternity of white knights ready to charge in. The goal is simple: to keep control amid utter pandemonium.
"You need to make some kind of order out of absolute chaos," says Tony Daniels, a former assistant FBI director who now runs an investigative and consulting business in McLean, Va. "The quicker you can do that, the better off you are. Put yourself in the place of an individual in Oklahoma City, for example. Imagine the absolute chaos, and the information coming in by the bucketload, and trying to get it all organized as quickly as possible."
NO MORE WACOS
Back in his corner office, Montgomery has an expansive view of the
manicured academy campus. The room is dominated by an elaborate
wooden book case, with the FBI motto -- "Fidelity, Bravery,
Integrity" -- etched into the wood. A mock "Wanted" poster, presented
by mischievous subordinates, charges Montgomery with the crime of
"impersonating an FBI executive."
Montgomery's life sounds like it was dreamed up by a screenwriter for a Chuck Norris movie. Shipped to Vietnam at 18, he was leading a Marine scouting party in June 1969 when his men were trapped by heavy fire. The young lieutenant crawled forward in a rice paddy, stood up in full view of the enemy soldiers, and took out two machine gun positions. Badly wounded in the process, Montgomery won the Navy Cross for heroism.
His FBI career is studded with dramatic moments. Montgomery was at Wounded Knee, S.D., during a 70-day takeover by Indian activists in 1973. He helped plan the successful storming of the federal prison at Talladega, Ala., after inmates took nine hostages in 1991. He was with the FBI forces at Ruby Ridge in 1992.
Now Montgomery, more than anyone outside the military, is charged with helping the country fight its nightmares. Because Freeh envisioned a unit that could be called on during any unconventional, "exotic" threat, the agents who specialize in everything from serial killers to child abductions -- not just sieges -- also have been placed under Montgomery's command.
When Freeh asked him to take the job, Montgomery knew that his biggest successes -- preventing sieges in the first place -- would go unnoticed, while his failures would likely be fiery and spectacular. But he felt he could not say no. "I'm at a place where I don't have to prove anything to anybody, OK," Montgomery says. "I believe in the concept. There are a lot of dedicated people around here who want to prevent another Waco."
IT BEGAN WITH MUNICH
Few images linger the way hostage standoffs do. In 1971, inmates at
New York's Attica prison riot. Before the siege ends, 29 inmates and
10 hostages lie dead. In 1972, black-hooded terrorists hold Israeli
athletes hostage at the Munich Olympics and massacre 11. In 1977,
Hanafi Muslims seize three buildings in Washington and take 149
hostages. A radio reporter is killed, but the standoff otherwise ends
peacefully.
Yet just 25 years ago, the country had little experience with hostage-takings and scant plans for fighting back. It was only after Munich that the FBI was jolted into creating SWAT units (short for Special Weapons and Tactics), recalls Conrad Hassel, a longtime FBI counter-terrorism expert. And it was not until 1978 that the Hostage Rescue Team was created.
"The modern age of terrorism dates itself back to Munich," says Hassel, now a partner at Hassel & Hassel, a law firm in Manassas, Va. "It's not because terrorism started then -- I worked in the South in the '60s and people were blowing up churches -- but that's when satellite TV was available. And terrorism in my opinion is basically theater. You try to impress as many people as possible."
Some experts say the conflagration at Waco and the explosion at Oklahoma City are at least as traumatic for the nation as Munich was.
And they may be just a warm-up. Scholars who study violent movements say it is easier than ever for those with conspiracy delusions to communicate, especially through the Internet, so the delusions can blossom into full-fledged group paranoia. Others note that television exposure is increasingly available; instead of periodic updates, CNN now is at the scene around the clock.
The ominous spread of nuclear materials from Eastern Europe and the use of sarin gas in the Tokyo subway attack earlier this year -- once the seemingly far-fetched stuff of Batman movies -- has given terrorists the potential to threaten not just buildings, but whole communities.
"It was the final breaking of the paradigm," says Bertram Brown, a terrorism expert and former director of the National Institute of Mental Health, about the terrorist act in Tokyo. "For years we were wondering: 'They use guns, knives, and explosives . . . but the chemical, the biological, the bacteria, the toxins have never been a major factor.' "
Even if they aren't used, the mere threat of such weapons can have a strong emotional effect, making people lose faith that their government can protect them, says Brown, currently a senior physician with the Pentagon. "Just the panic component is going to be so extraordinary," he says. "We're studying what happened in Japan, and you have psychological effects that far exceed the physical ones."
Another fear is that as the year 2000 approaches, the country will see an increase in religious groups convinced that the apocalypse is at hand, some of whom may try to bring it about themselves through violence.
"While many of us will find a way of celebrating the year and the events of civilization, for others it's a way to hold their own memorials," says Frank Ochberg, a professor of criminal justice, journalism, and psychiatry at Michigan State University. "Some are religious and feel they have to carry out their interpretation of Armageddon, to separate the blessed and the damned."
These nightmarish scenarios may never occur. But among the small, informal community that studies such things, the consensus is that it is important to be prepared. And that is where Montgomery and his team come in.
In June 1993, shortly after the Waco siege, Ochberg called together a group of academics, law enforcement officers, psychologists, and others and created an ongoing "analysis group." It is meant to be a pool of brainpower that authorities can summon if instant expertise is needed on some obscure corner of theology, psychology, weaponry.
"We had long needed an advisory network of the brightest people in the country that we could turn to," says Donald Bassett, a longtime FBI crisis specialist and now a consultant in Reedville, Va. "I'm a firm believer in synergistic problem solving."
Montgomery has been receptive, accepting the group's self-appointed role as outside consultant. He attended a seminar the group held six months ago. He met with nuclear arms expert Edward Rowney at the group's suggestion. "We're becoming more and more involved in some of your more exotic scenarios: nuclear weapons, biological weapons," Montgomery says.
NOT LOOKING FOR BUSINESS
The FBI, of course, has not satisfied all its critics by creating the
Critical Incident Response Group. Some say the Hostage Rescue Team
should be beefed up even more -- or that some of its members should
be stationed in the West, to speed the response to incidents in that
part of the country.
Others say the FBI's attempts to establish its lead-agency role have been inadequate, and that what is really needed is an executive order by the president to eliminate any confusion. Some are dissatisfied with Montgomery's informal consultation with psychologists and sociologists, saying more official action is required.
Still, these suggestions involve fine-tuning, and most experts seem to agree that the FBI is at least heading in the right direction.
Typically mild is the critique of Richard Davis, former assistant secretary of the Treasury for enforcement, who recommends a far bigger Hostage Rescue Team.
"You can have [a standoff] in a hotel or even a 747 where the [team's] numbers wouldn't be sufficient," says Davis, now a partner in New York's Weil, Gotshal &Manges. "But in tough budget times, these are tough calls. I favor what I favor, but I understand what they are doing."
Ultimately, it will be hard to judge the success of Montgomery's group until a major siege erupts. So far, the operation has not been truly tested.
Montgomery stresses that it would be fine with him if this dazzling assembly of technology and training is never tested. Avoiding sieges is preferable to fighting them, he says. That is why his agents work regularly with FBI field offices to prevent hostages from being taken in the first place.
"If we have to be the Maytag man," Montgomery says, "that's okay."
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Copyright © 1996, American Lawyer Media
