From: fergp@sytex.com (Paul Ferguson)
Date: Sun, 18 Jul 93 14:28:47 PDT
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Subject: It could happen to anyone (fwd Washington Post commentary)
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reprinted from:
 
The Washington Post
Sunday, July 18, 1993
Editorials/Columnists
Page C7
 
 
It Could Happen to Anyone
 
Law enforcement out of control.
by David Z. Nevin
 
Randy Weaver was an insignificant little man, struggling to
survive with his family of five in a plywood cabin in the
mountains of north Idaho when he became a target of his
government. His story is important because it illustrates law
enforcement out of control -- and because it could happen to
anyone.
 
Weaver held beliefs about racial separation that are repugnant
to most Americans. But he had served honorably in the military,
had no criminal record and in 1989 had violated no laws. Then the
Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms turned its gaze upon him
because it believed (incorrectly) that he was a member of a
neo-Nazi group. An ATF informer -- a spy -- persuaded Weaver to
saw off two shotguns and sell them. ATF then sprung its trap:
Weaver must infiltrate and spy on thee Nazi group himself or be
indicted for sale of the shotguns.
 
When Weaver refused to spy he was arrested, taken to court and
released pending trials. Alarmed by a series of suspiciously
inconsistent statements by court personnel about the date of his
trial, he became fearful that the government meant to destroy his
family and seize his property. He refused to leave his
mountaintop cabin and did not appear for trial.
 
Now a "fugitive," Weaver's apprehension fell to the U.S.
Marshal's Service, which came loaded for bear. The marshals
called in military aerial reconnaissance and had photos studied
by the Defense Mapping Agency. They prowled the woods around
Weaver's cabin with night vision equipment. They had
psychological profiles performed and installed $130,000 worth of
solar-powered long-range spy cameras. They intercepted the
Weaver's mail. They even knew the menstrual cycle of weaver's
teenage daughter, and planned an arrest scenario around it. They
actually bought a track of land next to Weaver's where an
undercover marshal was to pose as a neighbor and build a cabin in
hopes of befriending Weaver and luring him away from his cabin.
 
Although they knew his precise location throughout this elaborate
investigation, not a single marshal ever met face-to-face with
Weaver. Even so, Weaver offered to surrender if conditions were
met to guarantee his safety. The marshals drafted a letter of
acceptance, but the U.S. attorney for Idaho abruptly ordered that
negotiations cease.
 
On Aug. 21, 1992, Weaver, his son Sammy, 14, and their friend
Kevin Harris, 24, heard the family dog barking. In the woods a
team of six camouflaged marshals armed with fully automatic
assault weapons (one with a silencer) had attracted the dog's
attention. Harris and Sammy followed the dog's bark. The dog had
chased the marshals. At the fork of two abandoned logging roads,
the boys and the marshals met. One of the marshals shot the dog,
and Sammy, in the line of fire, shot back in self defense.
 
Thee woods erupted with gunsmoke and flying shell casings as the
marshals opened up on the boy, who had by now turned to run home.
One shot struck the rifle he carried, and another hit him
square in the back, killing him instantly. In the melee, Kevin
Harris fired in defense of himself and of Sammy, killing deputy
marshal William Degan.
 
Two of the remaining marshals made their way to a telephone and
called for help. Within hours the FBI Hostage Rescue Team was in
the air from Virginia and soon thronged the hills above the
Weaver cabin. On the spot the HRT promulgated new rules of
engagement, directing agents to shoot any armed adult male on
sight, whether he posed an immediate threat or not. These rules
violated Idaho law and had never been applied before. They were
not even used in the extraordinary attack on the Branch Davidian
compound at Waco, which took 72 lives.
 
Late the next day, Weaver, Harris and Weaver's teenage daughter
Sara left the cabin and went to an outbuilding where Sammy's body
lay, washed and prepared for home burial.
 
Sniper Lon Horiuchi, who testified he could hit a quarter-inch
target at 200 meters, took two shots. The first struck Weaver
under the right arm. The three then rushed back to the cabin,
where Weaver's wife, Vicki, stood holding open the door, with
10-month old Elisheba in her arms. As Harris ran into the open
door Horiuchi shot again, striking Vicki in the head and then
Harris as he passed behind her. Vicki fell dead. Horiuchi
reporting hearing a scream (it was from 10-year-old Rachel) that
lasted at least 30 seconds.
 
Weaver at last surrendered. He was charged with the sale of the
shotguns and failure to appear at trial, and he and Harris were
charged with Degan's murder, assault on the officers and a
nine-year conspiracy to provoke a confrontation with federal
officers.
 
At trial -- Weaver and Harris were tried together with separate
attorneys -- misconduct on the part of prosecutors led Judge
Edward J. Lodge to assess defense attorney's fees against the
government itself, a step almost unheard of in criminal cases.
Well into the case, the lead prosecutor, who enjoyed a reputation
of punctilious attention to professional responsibilities,
collapsed and was unable to complete the trial. After 40 days of
government testimony, Weaver and harris rested their cases
without calling a single witness. The jury acquitted an all the
substantive charges except for Weaver's failure to appear. With
three human lives and some $3 million down the drain, the U.S.
attorney declined to answer questions from the press.
 
The ATF, the Marshal's Service, the FBI, even the U.S. attorney,
each had the opportunity to stop this trail of horrors. Because
they saw nothing wrong in any of it, none did. As late in the day
as closing argument, the assistant prosecutor who took over the
sagging case called all this the "honorable" tactics of proper
police work.
 
Law enforcement has become a sacred cow in America, and it
happened quite naturally. It is comforting to believe that our
thorny problems -- violence, drug abuse, child exploitaton,
public corruption -- can be solved simply by getting tough. And
every year we build more prisons and put more people in them for
longer periods of time.
 
But consigning our social problems to the criminal justice system
is bad policy for two reasons. First, it won't work. Despite all
the mandatory prison terms, no one seriously argues that the
crime problem is diminishing.
 
Second, it has disturbing side effects. Overwhelming expense, the
degradation of constitutional protections and the country's
growing sense of frustration and helplessness are a few. The
sorry tale of federal law enforcement run amok in the Weaver case
-- as in the Branch Davidian affair -- is another.
 
We know that those with power will use it -- all of it. And
police officers in America have vast power. Not just statutory
power, although there is plenty of that, but also the power that
comes from being what America believes is its last best hope.
 
But beware: As officers perceive no genuine checks on their
authority, more will take their lead from the Dirty Harry movies
and do whatever it takes to get their man. And we will be left to
learn again the hard way, as George Washington taught, that
government, "like fire ... is a dangerous servant and a terrible
master."
 
--------------------------------------------
The writer is lead attorney for Kevin Harris.

Paul Ferguson               |  "Confidence is the feeling you get
Network Integrator          |   just before you fully understand
Centreville, Virginia USA   |   the problem."
fergp@sytex.com             |      - Murphy's 7th Law of Computing
 
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