DISTRICT FIVE POLICE STATION: MILWAUKEE
It was ten fifteen in the evening when Police Officer John Birke parked his marked Dodge Charger “police package” squad in the south parking lot at District Five. He had two reports to file before his four-to-midnight shift ended, with no desire for a late assignment tonight. Three full days of court for an armed robbery jury trial and five straight work nights had sapped his strength. As he exited the squad, he noticed an older, green Toyota four door containing two bald white males going southbound through the alley. The men gave him a “fisheye” look, which he knew was a sure telltale sign of trouble.
Birke noted the rear Wisconsin license plate. The car turned eastbound out of the alley and caught the green light at Martin Luther King Drive, heading back north. Just as Birke was about to get back into the squad to catch up to them, he heard a loud explosion and saw a bright flash from the back of the station. Instinctively, he knelt down between his squad and another parked next to it, to protect himself from flying debris or shrapnel. Instantly, he was faced with a dilemma: get back into his squad and chase after the car or stay at the scene to assist those who had been injured or worse.
He reached for the microphone on his nylon squad jacket. Calmly, he keyed the mike and spoke into it. “Squad 5258 to dispatch for the air!”
One long second passed. “All squads standby. Go ahead, you have the air.”
“5258 to all squads. Explosion just occurred at the northeast corner of District Five. Damage and casualties not immediately known. Involved is an older-model, green Toyota four door, Wisconsin plates ADF673. Wanted are two bald, white males in their twenties. Both suspects appeared to be wearing black leather jackets and the passenger had a dark beard. Vehicle last seen northbound on MLK Drive from the scene. Dispatch, I need a listing. Fire department units requested. At least two vehicles on fire, east side of the building along the alley.”
“10-4, squad 5258, get back to us with any additional, KSA536.”
“Shit, that pig saw us!” screamed Spike, turning right onto a side street. The loaded Glock 22, .40 caliber handgun sat next to him on the seat.
“We need to ditch this bitch,” Madman yelled, scanning the road for any signs of squad cars. “I thought you said no one would be around the station now.”
“Nothing’s 100 percent!”
Spike drove the car into an alley west of the Milwaukee River and parked it behind a garage. There was no movement up or down the alley. “Okay, let’s go.”
“What are we gonna do with these other bombs?”
“Hide it behind one of the garbage cans, and we’ll get it later.”
Madman grabbed the red plastic bag from the trunk, and they ran halfway down the alley. He set it behind one of the large, green garbage carts in front of a garage. They threw their blue latex gloves into a cart and cut through one of the yards, walking down the street to a corner bar.
“Let’s have a coupla brewskis to celebrate.” “Now you’re talkin’.”
“Doubt if we hurt anyone in the initial blast. I know we wrecked some of them pigs’ rides. Would love to see their faces when the other one goes off.”
Cautiously walking along the east side of the brown brick building, Birke tried to assess the damage. A newer-model Chevrolet 1500 parked next to the building was engulfed in flames. So was a car on either side of it. The explosion left a gaping hole in the wall he “guesstimated” to be ten feet in diameter. Birke could see straight into the garage and hoped no one had been inside when the bomb went off. Bricks and brick shards would have been high-speed projectiles flying at them.
“John, what happened?” Mark Sandick and two police officers came running toward him. Sergeant Sandick was the acting shift lieutenant.
Birke put his left index finger up for them to standby as he re-keyed the radio mike. “5258, dispatch, advise the fire department there are three vehicles in flames. Injuries unknown.”
“10-4. Be advised the plate comes back to a Harold Sampson Carter Jr., on a 1999 Toyota Corolla four door listed as stolen. Taken in a homicide from a week ago. MFD notified on the status of the vehicles.”
“Copy.” He looked over at Sergeant Sandick. “Sarge, I had just parked my squad in the lot. When I exited, I saw a car with two white guys driving through the alley. They went east, then northbound on MLK when the explosion occurred. I immediately broadcast what I had, including the subject vehicle and license plate.”
“We heard the broadcast in the station. Why didn’t you pursue? Three squads just split from the station trying to locate it. Every squad within three miles of here is doing the same.”
“When they first eye-balled me, they gave me that look like I was from Mars. I was getting back into my squad to see what they were up to, but that’s all I had to go on until the explosion. By the time I got my bearings, they were gone. More important for me to be here and assist for possible casualties.”
“Good answer. We think we have everyone accounted for who was working inside tonight. I saw the garage on the way out here, and there are bricks all over the place. We have people combing through to see if anyone was in there when it happened. I better give the captain a call and tell him what happened to his police station. This place will soon be a circus with all the brass and media response.”
“Engine 30, ladder 10, respond to Number Five District on Fourth and Locust. An explosion just occurred in the alley behind the station. Received an update; three vehicles in flames at that location. Time out: 10:17.”
“Copy that, fire dispatch.” So that’s what the loud noise was, Lieutenant William ‘Buck’ Bucholtz thought to himself as he responded to the radio call. He pushed the alarm button, and a loud, clanging bell sounded in the fire station. Within two minutes, ten firefighters mobilized in the garage, getting into their fire gear and preparing for a quick departure.
“Let’s hit it, boys. Our brothers in blue need us. There was an explosion, and three cars are on fire in the alley behind the station.” Buck raised his right hand and waved it in a circular motion, signifying the urgency of the situation. The two large garage doors opened, red lights were activated, and the siren blared as the big, red Pierce-brand fire engine lumbered out of the garage, turning eastbound. The large horsepower engine roared and arrived at the location in just over a minute. The motor pump operator veered left into the alley, following the hand directions of a uniformed police officer who was standing on the grass island of the boulevard.
“Jeffers, did you see the hydrant in front of the library? When this beast stops, it’s yours. Hook us up, and we’ll get this show rolling.” Buck spoke into his headset as he looked over at the young firefighter in the backseat.
“Copy, Lieut. I’m all over it.”
The truck stopped mid-alley, and the professionals in fire-retardant clothing jumped out and went about their assignments. One firefighter lifted the fire hose up from the concrete and felt the water pressure building. It came to life, with a full stream of water charging at the flames.
Two minutes later, the fires were extinguished. The hose bearer and his backup approached each vehicle and finished the job by dousing all remaining hot spots. They walked alongside each vehicle. Firefighter Norris winced as he sprayed water on the front of the beautiful Chevy 1500 4X4. Whoever owns this is going to be really upset. As he walked between the charred green Ford Fusion and blue Hyundai Elantra, the last thing Norris felt was a slight tugging at his left front calf. He didn’t see the trip wire stretched between the two autos that set off the secondary explosion.
A blue plastic Igloo cooler, containing highly explosive methyl nitrate set inside of a lead pipe bomb, along with additional shrapnel, had been strategically placed just in front of the Hyundai’s front tire. The firefighter didn’t stand a chance and was dead instantly from the intense power of the blast and shrapnel that pierced his body. Firefighter Kubick stood a much better chance of survival at the rear of the cars as the back-up fire hose tender. He immediately fell to the ground as metal shrapnel struck his lower extremities and shredded his legs.
As Kubick writhed in pain, Norris lay completely motionless.
“First aid kit, now!” screamed Buck over the radio as he looked on in horror. “Get me two med units here!” He rushed over to Norris, knelt down and felt for a pulse on the carotid artery, glaring at the large puddles of blood forming under the man’s lifeless body. Absolutely nothing. He forced the tears back as he maintained his composure and kept a cool, focused demeanor. Just too many big holes to patch up. Buck stood up and ordered one of the dual EMT-trained firefighters to perform the “ABCs” of survival in the very slim chance they could save him. Meanwhile, several firefighters were attending to Kubick, professionally working on controlling the bleeding from his legs.
Police Officer Birke surveyed the mangled scene in from of him. “Those two bastards are mine!” he seethed through the openings in his teeth. That’s when he noticed it. On the undamaged section of brick wall in front of the red Hyundai, “TMB” was spray painted in large, red capital letters.