| |
THE SHOTS FORCED DAVID Thurman to freeze. He was on the floor, back against the wall at gunpoint, two bullets holes in the floor on both sides of his body.
Ethnicity saved his life. His lucky day.
Thirty to forty officers converged in the Crypt area, including members of the Capitol Police Hazardous Device Unit, the Federal Bureau of Investigation Joint Terrorism Task Force, and Detective William Bosswick who had handcuffed Thurman. Detective Bosswick wore a boring buzz cut and was known to have steroid induced spurts of violence. Thurman’s costume was cautiously being cut from his body, as Detective Bosswick asked, “Are there any wires or explosives in your costume?”
“No,” Thurman said through clenched teeth. He was face down on the ground with an officer’s knee in his back and another on his neck, as he was aggressively frisked.
“I’m wearing it for artistic purposes. Is that a crime?”
“I’ll let you know,” Detective Bosswick said, “but know that the only performers in this building have senator or representative in front of their name.”
Watching an officer leave the area, gingerly carrying the costume, Thuman asked, “Where are you taking my property?"
“To be x-rayed and preliminary testing to determine if it contains any explosives, chemical agents, or radiation.”
Thurman snickered. “Wasn’t that tested prior to my admission?”
“In the interim you’re going to be taken to the Capitol Hill Police Processing Center, interrogated, and arrested.”
“That’s fine,” Thurman said, grinning into Brandy’s camera. “Lawyer please.”
__________
David Thurman was strip-searched and police confiscated a set of car keys, which had been matched to a 2003 Ford Expedition. Police located the van in the three hundred block of Third Street NE, four blocks from the Capitol Building. Because his costume resembled a vest associated with a suicide bomber, there was concern that there may be explosives inside of the truck. Perhaps, there were explosives inside of the truck, because the suspect may have been engaging in a “dry run” to test security, observe response procedures, and capabilities at the Capitol Building.
Capitol Police, Kevin Malloy, looked at the truck, and recorded the out-of-state license plate, before looking inside of it. It was filthy, and he said to his captain, “I think he lives out of this thing. The plate is from New York. I’ll assume he’s from there.”
Daniel Finnerty, the Commander of the Hazardous Incident Response Division of the Capitol Police, simply furrowed his brows. An intelligent reply. The captain wore a crisp suit over his taut, tawny physique. After canvassing the neighborhood he was informed that neighbors and restaurant employees had agreed that the truck had been parked in the same location since at least nine a.m.
A canine search of the van’s exterior didn’t reveal any traces of explosives, but while conducting the search canine officers observed large containers in the rear of the van covered by blankets and clothing. Captain Finnerty ordered that the entire block where the van was parked be cleared of vehicular and pedestrian traffic. Neighbors were told to go the backside of their homes and seek cover until someone knocked on their doors. He then OK’d bomb technicians to perform a diagnostic inspection of the van’s exterior and interior to determine if the vehicle contained explosives or other hazardous materials. He was determined to nail, David Thurman, to the top the Capitol Building.
Donning protective equipment to safeguard themselves from exposure to any hazard chemicals, agents entered the van. Inspecting the vans interior, they confirmed that the large containers presented in the back of the van were filled with urine. None of the containers had attached wired and were packed in HAZMAT-approved containers, leaving them inside of the van.
Clearing the blocks of its lockdown status, Captain Finnerty consulted with Alexander Morgan a supervisor at the FBI’s Washington Field Office, who ordered him to have the truck impounded and towed to an FBI storage facility.
After the call, he was informed that David Thurman’s lawyer had arrived.
“Sucks to be him or her,” the captain said, tilting his head to the side.