Chapter 26
“The power of the Executive to cast a man into prison without formulating any charge known to the law, and particularly to deny him the judgment of his peers, is in the highest degree odious and is the foundation of all totalitarian governments whether Nazi or Communist.”
At 6:15 a.m. two days later, six four-door sedans pulled into the main guarded entry of Ellington Air Force Base just south of Houston. The Great Seal of the State of Texas was prominently displayed on each car’s front doors
The vehicles were at the guard shack for less than two minutes before the gate arm went up. The sedans entered and made a beeline to the hangar near the south runway where Chuck Dixon was being held by federal agents.
As the vehicles pulled up to a small door to the left of the giant hangar doors, two ATF agents appeared in full tactical gear, holding HK automatic weapons.
As the occupants of the sedans got out of the vehicles, one agent turned to the other and said laughingly, “Holy shit, it looks like John Wayne and his posse have shown up.”
Texas Ranger “Pops” Younger, a legend in the historic and elite independent law enforcement unit that reports directly to the governor of Texas, reached onto the front seat for his cowboy hat.
Eight Texas Rangers emerged from the vehicles, all with trademark cowboy hats, cowboy boots and holstered guns. Every one of them looked like they could have been peeled right off a 1960s Marlboro ad.
“Gentlemen, my name is Younger with the Texas Rangers. I have a search warrant in my hand issued by Atty. Gen. Jeff Weaver and Gov. Brent Cooper of Texas, signed by a Texas circuit judge, allowing me access to this hangar to search for a missing Texas citizen named Chuck Dixon.”
“Mr. Younger, I…”
Pops interrupted him. “It’s Ranger Younger to you, son.”
“Okay, Ranger Younger, this is a federal operation on federal property and your search warrant doesn’t mean shit here.”
“Son, the last time I looked, you were standing on Texas dirt.”
“No, sir. This is a United States Air Force base. You will not be granted entry.”
Just then, two more agents came out, also with HK automatic weapons. They were followed by lead agent Jackson.
Jackson planted his feet solidly on the ground. “Sir, my name is Agent Jackson with the FBI. I am in charge of this operation. You say you have a search warrant?” A look of curiosity flashed across his face. “How did you find out this operation was here at Ellington?”
Pops looked down and spit a small amount of tobacco on the tarmac. He adjusted his cowboy hat. “Well,” he said in his Texas drawl, “Agent Jackson, I have a legal search warrant to examine this hangar. We have reason to believe you are holding a Texas citizen in this hangar unlawfully.” He handed the warrant to Jackson.
Agent Jackson unfolded the search warrant and read it through. “Sir, what is your name?”
“Ranger Younger.”
“Well, sir,” Jackson stated, “this search warrant has no standing on federal property. You are on a United States Air Force base.” A contemptuous smile formed on his face.
“Which is on Texas soil,” replied Pops.
“Sir, we could sit here and argue all day long. If you’ll wait, however, I need to call my superiors in Washington, D.C.”
“Mr. Jackson,” Pops drawled, “you go right ahead. I’ll give you five minutes, then we are executing this warrant and searching this property.”
Clearly agitated, smile wiped off his face, Agent Jackson replied, “We’ll see.”
Jackson opened the door and asked one of his fellow agents to come with him. As they walked into the hallway, Jackson said, “Call base security. Tell them we have an issue and dispatch them here. In the meantime, I’ll call the director.”
The scene outside the hangar door was getting more tense by the minute. Three Rangers left to walk around the hanger to station themselves near any rear entry point.
Jackson spent two full minutes on the phone with FBI Director Henry Wodehouse. As he hung up, he said, “No way in hell are they getting in here.”
Jackson returned to the tarmac with a slight smirk on his face. He told the agent with him to stay just inside the closed door.
“Ranger Younger, I have been instructed by FBI Director Henry Wodehouse and the United States Justice Department that you have no jurisdiction on this base and you will be denied access to execute your search warrant.”
“Agent Jackson, I am here under the direct order of the governor of Texas and I have a valid, legal search warrant issued by a Texas circuit judge.”
“Like I said,” Jackson said forcefully, “and I’m only going to say it one more time, you have no jurisdiction here and I have been ordered not to allow you to execute your warrant.”
“Then, son, you and your fellow agents are violating Texas law.”
Just then, the agent who had made the snide John Wayne remark couldn’t help himself, “You redneck hicks need to leave. Screw you and screw Texas.”
Suddenly, before the agents could act, Pops had his Colt .45 out of his holster and pressed against the neck of Jackson. Before any of the agents could pull their weapons up, all five of the remaining Rangers had their guns drawn on the agents.
“Agent Jackson, I’m placing you and your agents under arrest for obstruction of justice, violating a court order and violating a direct executive order of the governor of Texas.”
The agent who had been behind the door rushed out with his gun drawn and began to point it at Pops. Before he could get the gun raised to chest level, a shot rang out and the agent dropped where he stood. One of the Texas Rangers shot the agent when he drew his gun on Pops.
“Get down on the ground, NOW,” yelled the Rangers. The agents immediately dropped to the ground. The Rangers picked up their weapons and began handcuffing them.
“Have you people lost your minds?” screamed Jackson.
As soon as the weapons were secure and the agents were handcuffed where they lay face first on the tarmac, the Rangers began attending to the agent who was shot. Although he was wearing a bullet-proof vest, the round hit above the vest on the shoulder.
The wounded agent cursed at the Rangers, specifically the one who shot him. Two Air Force security vehicles pulled up, and several military police rushed out. They seemed more shocked at what they were seeing than having any interest in picking sides. The Rangers instructed them to leave any weapons in their vehicles and they were told this was an operation under direct orders from Gov. Cooper.
Several of them already knew a search warrant was being served from when the Rangers appeared at the gate, but there was no organized communication set up with the FBI and ATF agents to notify them. The airmen were obviously awed by the sight of the Texas Rangers: dress, mannerisms, ultra confidence and their air of invincibility were captivating.
Slowly the Rangers made their way into the hangar, guns drawn. As they approached the front door of the office complex, Pops positioned himself next to the entry door.
“My name is Pops Younger, Texas Ranger,” he called out. “We are here under orders of the governor of Texas with a legal search warrant to search these premises for a Texas citizen you may be holding illegally.”
The two remaining agents in the small office complex inside the hangar had heard the gunshot and barricaded themselves in the hallway leading to where Chuck was being held.
Agent Barrows, the senior of the two agents, shouted, “We heard a gunshot.”
“One of your agents drew his weapon on us and was dealt with. Put your weapons down and come out with your hands in the air.”
“I would like to see the warrant,” Barrows said.
Pops slid the warrant under the door. “Here it is. I’ll give you two minutes to read it.”
Agent Barrows carefully approached, picked up the search warrant and read it. As he read, he tried to dial into headquarters to reach a supervisor with instruction on how he should proceed.
“Son, what is your name?” called Pops.
“Barrows.”
“Agent Barrows, your time is up. Open this door and throw down your weapons,” the Ranger said.
“I’m not sure I can do that,” Barrows said. “I haven’t been able to reach headquarters for instructions yet.”
“Barrows, the Texas Rangers are outside your door with direct orders from the governor of Texas and have presented a valid and legal search warrant. You heard the gunshot. One of your fellow agents is wounded. We are not playing around here, waiting for you to call your operations center. Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up or somebody is going to get hurt. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
There was a momentary silence. Barrows was apparently weighing his options. He heard the sound of an ambulance siren.
“Barrows, I cannot allow an ambulance to come into an active operations area. Your fellow agent is wounded and bleeding. I will not allow this ambulance to recover him unless you surrender, because it is unsafe,” reasoned Pops, who was bluffing to avoid further bloodshed.
“We’re coming out. There are two of us. Do not shoot.”
“Open the door and slide your weapons toward me.”
As the door slowly opened, two handguns slid into view, followed by two HK automatic rifles. The agents slowly walked out with their hands raised and were immediately cuffed.
“Are you guys really Texas Rangers?” asked Barrows’ fellow agent.
Ranger Elliott, who at six-four looked like a giant sporting a large handlebar mustache and wearing a ten-gallon cowboy hat, said, “Hmmm, what gave it away, son? You federal guys are damn smart, that’s for sure.”
The Rangers went room by room, shouting Chuck’s name. “Mr. Chuck Dixon, are you here? Mr. Dixon, are you here?”
Chuck could tell something had happened but he couldn’t hear much but people yelling and a loud pop he thought might be a gunshot. Now he was sure. “I’m here!” he yelled. “I’m locked in a room!”
As the Rangers arrived at his door, they decided to go back to Agent Barrows for the key rather than destroy the door. Coming back with the key from Barrows, Pops opened the door.
“Mr. Dixon, my name is Pops Younger with the Texas Rangers and we have been ordered by the governor to find you and deliver you to him in Austin.”
“Thanks much, fellas. What an ordeal this has been.” Chuck stepped through the unlocked door. “You mean to tell me the governor knows I’m here and was detained?”
“Thank your wife, Mr. Dixon. After your home was raided, she went straight to the press and sought help from the governor’s office. She is one smart cookie.”
“So she’s okay? My son…?”
“He’s fine, too. They are in protective custody and safe in Austin.”
“Thank God. Those guys had me in here for three days. I’ve barely eaten anything, was never formally charged and did not have access to an attorney.”
Pops looked like he was pondering the situation as they watched EMTs load the wounded federal agent in the back of the ambulance. “This is getting out of control. The damned feds think they can do anything they want. I can sure tell you this. They may be able to get away with this in other states, but it sure as hell ain’t happenin’ in Texas.”