New Beltway Blue (Capitol Carnage Book 1)
Was there time to act? And how would a global commitment to cease burning fossil fuels come about, exactly? Who had the power to make such a thing happen? But he would learn. Only Exxon was asking a slightly different question than Jule Charney. It wanted to know how much of the warming Exxon could be blamed for. A senior researcher named Henry Shaw had argued that the company needed a deeper understanding of the issue in order to influence future legislation that might restrict carbon-dioxide emissions. In , in a presentation at the American Geophysical Union, Broecker predicted that fossil fuels would have to be restricted, whether by taxation or fiat.
The company had been studying the carbon-dioxide problem for decades, since before it changed its name to Exxon. What was new, in , was the effort to quantify what percentage of emissions had been contributed by the oil-and-gas industry. So did another A. The ritual repeated itself every few years. Industry scientists, at the behest of their corporate bosses, reviewed the problem and found good reasons for alarm and better excuses to do nothing.
Why should they act when almost nobody within the United States government — nor, for that matter, within the environmental movement — seemed worried? Why take on an intractable problem that would not be detected until this generation of employees was safely retired? Worse, the solutions seemed more punitive than the problem itself. Historically, energy use had correlated to economic growth — the more fossil fuels we burned, the better our lives became.
Why mess with that? Now there was a formal consensus about the nature of the crisis. Unfortunately, the graduate student installed on the tanker botched the job, and the data came back a mess. Shaw was running out of time. In , an Exxon colleague circulated an internal memo warning that humankind had only five to 10 years before policy action would be necessary. But Congress seemed ready to act a lot sooner than that. On April 3, , Senator Paul Tsongas, a Massachusetts Democrat, held the first congressional hearing on carbon-dioxide buildup in the atmosphere.
More urgent, the National Commission on Air Quality, at the request of Congress, invited two dozen experts, including Henry Shaw himself, to a meeting in Florida to propose climate policy. It seemed that some kind of legislation to restrict carbon combustion was inevitable. The Charney report had confirmed the diagnosis of the problem — a problem that Exxon helped create. Now Exxon would help shape the solution. Petersburg, Fla, that locals called the Pink Palace.
The hotel stood amid blooms of poisonwood and gumbo limbo on a narrow spit of porous limestone that rose no higher than five feet above the sea. In its carnival of historical amnesia and childlike faith in the power of fantasy, the Pink Palace was a fine setting for the first rehearsal of a conversation that would be earnestly restaged, with little variation and increasing desperation, for the next 40 years. In the year and a half since he had read the coal report, Pomerance had attended countless conferences and briefings about the science of global warming.
But until now, nobody had shown much interest in the only subject that he cared about, the only subject that mattered — how to prevent warming. In a sense, he had himself to thank: During the expansion of the Clean Air Act, he pushed for the creation of the National Commission on Air Quality, charged with ensuring that the goals of the act were being met. One such goal was a stable global climate. The Charney report had made clear that goal was not being met, and now the commission wanted to hear proposals for legislation.
It was a profound responsibility, and the two dozen experts invited to the Pink Palace — policy gurus, deep thinkers, an industry scientist and an environmental activist — had only three days to achieve it, but the utopian setting made everything seem possible. The conference room looked better suited to hosting a wedding party than a bureaucratic meeting, its tall windows framing postcard views of the beach. The sands were blindingly white, the surf was idle, the air unseasonably hot and the dress code relaxed: sunglasses and guayaberas, jackets frowned upon.
Jorling acknowledged the vagueness of their mission. This provoked huffy consternation. We have less time than we realize, said an M. Urgent, detailed, cleareyed. The attendees seemed to share a sincere interest in finding solutions. They agreed that some kind of international treaty would ultimately be needed to keep atmospheric carbon dioxide at a safe level. But nobody could agree on what that level was. William Elliott, a NOAA scientist, introduced some hard facts: If the United States stopped burning carbon that year, it would delay the arrival of the doubling threshold by only five years.
If Western nations somehow managed to stabilize emissions, it would forestall the inevitable by only eight years. The only way to avoid the worst was to stop burning coal. It is the political problem. Pomerance glanced out at the beach, where the occasional tourist dawdled in the surf. Beyond the conference room, few Americans realized that the planet would soon cease to resemble itself. What if the problem was that they were thinking of it as a problem? The talk of ending oil production stirred for the first time the gentleman from Exxon.
We are going to have a very orderly transition from fossil fuels to renewable energy sources. But first — lunch. It was a bright day, low 80s, and the group voted to break for three hours to enjoy the Florida sun. He had refrained from speaking, happy to let others lead the discussion, provided it moved in the right direction. But the high-minded talk had soon stalled into fecklessness and pusillanimity. He reflected that he was just about the only participant without an advanced degree. But few of these policy geniuses were showing much sense.
They remained cool, detached — pragmatists overmatched by a problem that had no pragmatic resolution. After lunch, Jorling tried to focus the conversation. What did they need to know in order to take action? Yet nobody could agree what to do. Reading the indecision in the room, Jorling reversed himself and wondered if it might be best to avoid proposing any specific policy.
Pomerance begged Jorling to reconsider. The commission had asked for hard proposals. But why stop there? Why not propose a new national energy plan? Scoville pointed out that the United States was responsible for the largest share of global carbon emissions. But not for long. This was received by the room like a belch. Did the science really support such an extreme measure? The Charney report did exactly that, Pomerance said. He was beginning to lose his patience, his civility, his stamina.
But I would like to have a shot at avoiding it. Most everybody else seemed content to sit around. Some of the attendees confused uncertainty around the margins of the issue whether warming would be three or four degrees Celsius in 50 or 75 years for uncertainty about the severity of the problem. As Gordon MacDonald liked to say, carbon dioxide in the atmosphere would rise; the only question was when. The lag between the emission of a gas and the warming it produced could be several decades.
It was like adding an extra blanket on a mild night: It took a few minutes before you started to sweat.
So what was the problem? Because of the lag between cause and effect, it was unlikely that humankind would detect hard evidence of warming until it was too late to reverse it. The lag would doom them. A pair of modest steps could be taken immediately to show the world that the United States was serious: the implementation of a carbon tax and increased investment in renewable energy. Then the United States could organize an international summit meeting to address climate change.
This was his closing plea to the group. The next day, they would have to draft policy proposals. Yet these two dozen experts, who agreed on the major points and had made a commitment to Congress, could not draft a single paragraph. Hours passed in a hell of fruitless negotiation, self-defeating proposals and impulsive speechifying. She was interrupted by Waltz, the economist, who wanted simply to note that climate change would have profound effects. Crocetti waited until he exhausted himself, before resuming in a calm voice.rielapapolgy.ml/map14.php
Mike Davis, The Democrats After November, NLR 43, January–February
They have disagreements about the details of this and that, but they feel that it behooves us to intervene at this point and try to prevent it. They never got to policy proposals. They never got to the second paragraph. The final statement was signed by only the moderator, who phrased it more weakly than the declaration calling for the workshop in the first place. Pomerance had seen enough.
A Novel of Suspense
A consensus-based strategy would not work — could not work — without American leadership. His job was to assemble a movement. And every movement, even one backed by widespread consensus, needed a hero. He just had to find one. The meeting ended Friday morning. On Tuesday, four days later, Ronald Reagan was elected president. And Rafe Pomerance soon found himself wondering whether what had seemed to have been a beginning had actually been the end.
After the election, Reagan considered plans to close the Energy Department, increase coal production on federal land and deregulate surface coal mining. Once in office, he appointed James Watt, the president of a legal firm that fought to open public lands to mining and drilling, to run the Interior Department. Reagan preserved the E. Instead, his administration considered eliminating the council. At the Pink Palace, Anthony Scoville had said that the problem was not atmospheric but political. That was only half right, Pomerance thought. For behind every political problem, there lay a publicity problem.
And the climate crisis had a publicity nightmare. The Florida meeting had failed to prepare a coherent statement, let alone legislation, and now everything was going backward. Kennedy and, if he could get away with it, Theodore Roosevelt. It was good business. What could be more conservative than an efficient use of resources that led to fewer federal subsidies? Meanwhile the Charney report continued to vibrate at the periphery of public consciousness. But Pomerance understood that in order to sustain major coverage, you needed major events.
Studies were fine; speeches were good; news conferences were better. Hearings, however, were best. And two years after the Charney group met at Woods Hole, it seemed there was no more science to break through. They had found that the world had already warmed in the past century. Pomerance called Hansen to ask for a meeting. But more than that, he wanted to understand James Hansen. On top of many of the stacks lay a scrap of cardboard on which had been scrawled words like Trace Gases, Ocean, Jupiter, Venus. At the desk, Pomerance found, hidden behind another paper metropolis, a quiet, composed man with a heavy brow and implacable green eyes.
He would have no trouble passing for a small-town accountant, insurance-claims manager or actuary. In a sense he held all of those jobs, only his client was the global atmosphere. He liked what he saw. As Hansen spoke, Pomerance listened and watched. But Pomerance was excited to find that Hansen could translate the complexities of atmospheric science into plain English.
Though he was something of a wunderkind — at 40, he was about to be named director of the Goddard Institute — he spoke with the plain-spoken Midwestern forthrightness that played on Capitol Hill. He presented like a heartland voter, the kind of man interviewed on the evening news about the state of the American dream or photographed in the dying sun against a blurry agricultural landscape in a campaign ad. And unlike most scientists in the field, he was not afraid to follow his research to its policy implications. He was perfect. It was led by Representative James Scheuer, a New York Democrat — who lived at sea level on the Rockaway Peninsula, in a neighborhood no more than four blocks wide, sandwiched between two beaches — and a canny, year-old congressman named Albert Gore Jr.
Gore had learned about climate change a dozen years earlier as an undergraduate at Harvard, when he took a class taught by Roger Revelle. He had no memory of hearing it from his father, a three-term senator from Tennessee who later served as chairman of an Ohio coal company. Once in office, Gore figured that if Revelle gave Congress the same lecture, his colleagues would be moved to act.
Or at least that the hearing would get picked up by one of the three major national news broadcasts. After winning his third term in , Gore was granted his first leadership position, albeit a modest one: chairman of an oversight subcommittee within the Committee on Science and Technology — a subcommittee that he had lobbied to create.
That, Gore vowed, would change. Environmental and health stories had all the elements of narrative drama: villains, victims and heroes. In a hearing, you could summon all three, with the chairman serving as narrator, chorus and moral authority. He told his staff director that he wanted to hold a hearing every week. It was like storyboarding episodes of a weekly procedural drama. Grumbly assembled a list of subjects that possessed the necessary dramatic elements: a Massachusetts cancer researcher who faked his results, the dangers of excessive salt in the American diet, the disappearance of an airplane on Long Island.
The Revelle hearing went as Grumbly had predicted. But Gore soon found another opening. If they could put a hearing together quickly enough, they could shame the White House before it could go through with its plan. Hansen could occupy the role of hero: a mild-mannered scientist who had seen the future and now sought to rouse the world to action. Each man would testify. Koomanoff left open the possibility of funding other carbon-dioxide research, but Hansen was not optimistic, and when his funding lapsed, he had to release five employees, half his staff. Koomanoff, it seemed, would not be moved.
There emerged, despite the general comity, a partisan divide. Unlike the Democrats, the Republicans demanded action. We all accept that fact, and we realize that the potential consequences are certainly major in their impact on mankind. It is up to us now to summon the political will. Gore disagreed: A higher degree of certainty was required, he believed, in order to persuade a majority of Congress to restrict the use of fossil fuels.
Yet the experts invited by Gore agreed with the Republicans: The science was certain enough. Melvin Calvin, a Berkeley chemist who won the Nobel Prize for his work on the carbon cycle, said that it was useless to wait for stronger evidence of warming. He explained a few discoveries that his team had made — not with computer models but in libraries. By analyzing records from hundreds of weather stations, he found that the surface temperature of the planet had already increased four-tenths of a degree Celsius in the previous century.
Data from several hundred tide-gauge stations showed that the oceans had risen four inches since the s. Most disturbing of all, century-old glass astronomy plates had revealed a new problem: Some of the more obscure greenhouse gases — especially chlorofluorocarbons, or CFCs, a class of man-made substances used in refrigerators and spray cans — had proliferated wildly in recent years.
You look pretty young. It occurred to Hansen that this was the only political question that mattered: How long until the worst began? It was not a question on which geophysicists expended much effort; the difference between five years and 50 years in the future was meaningless in geologic time. Politicians were capable of thinking only in terms of electoral time: six years, four years, two years.
But when it came to the carbon problem, the two time schemes were converging. James Scheuer wanted to make sure he understood this correctly. No one else had predicted that the signal would emerge that quickly. But we are pushing beyond the range of human adaptability. How soon, Scheuer asked, would they have to change the national model of energy production? He had been irritated, during the hearing, by all the ludicrous talk about the possibility of growing more trees to offset emissions. False hopes were worse than no hope at all: They undermined the prospect of developing real solutions.
He was told to speak into the microphone.
But Hansen did not get new funding for his carbon-dioxide research. He knew he had done nothing wrong — he had only done diligent research and reported his findings, first to his peers, then to the American people. But now it seemed as if he was being punished for it. Anniek could read his disappointment, but she was not entirely displeased. At home, Jim spoke only about the teams and their fortunes, keeping to himself his musings — whether he would be able to secure federal funding for his climate experiments, whether the institute would be forced to move its office to Maryland to cut costs.
But perhaps there were other ways forward. Not long after Hansen laid off five of his assistants, a major symposium he was helping to organize received overtures from a funding partner far wealthier and less ideologically blinkered than the Reagan administration: Exxon. It donated tens of thousands of dollars to some of the most prominent research efforts, including one at Woods Hole led by the ecologist George Woodwell, who had been calling for major climate policy as early as the mids, and an international effort coordinated by the United Nations. Hansen was glad for the support.
As a gesture of appreciation, David was invited to give the keynote address.
David boasted that Exxon would usher in a new global energy system to save the planet from the ravages of climate change. Ethical considerations were necessary, too. Hansen had reason to feel upbeat himself. The Reagan administration was hostile to change from within its ranks.
It seemed that something was beginning to turn. With the carbon-dioxide problem as with other environmental crises, the Reagan administration had alienated many of its own supporters. The early demonstrations of autocratic force had retreated into compromise and deference. By the end of , multiple congressional committees were investigating Anne Gorsuch for her indifference to enforcing the cleanup of Superfund sites, and the House voted to hold her in contempt of Congress; Republicans in Congress turned on James Watt after he eliminated thousands of acres of land from consideration for wilderness designation.
Each cabinet member would resign within a year. What started as a scientific story was turning into a political story. This prospect would have alarmed Hansen several years earlier; it still made him uneasy. But he was beginning to understand that politics offered freedoms that the rigors of the scientific ethic denied. The political realm was itself a kind of Mirror World, a parallel reality that crudely mimicked our own. It shared many of our most fundamental laws, like the laws of gravity and inertia and publicity.
And if you applied enough pressure, the Mirror World of politics could be sped forward to reveal a new future. Hansen was beginning to understand that too. But in the fall of , the climate issue entered an especially long, dark winter. And all because of a single report that had done nothing to change the state of climate science but transformed the state of climate politics. A team of scientist-dignitaries — among them Revelle, the Princeton modeler Syukuro Manabe and the Harvard political economist Thomas Schelling, one of the intellectual architects of Cold War game theory — would review the literature, evaluate the consequences of global warming for the world order and propose remedies.
Then Reagan won the White House. There could be no climate policy, Fred Koomanoff and his associates said, until the academy ruled. A careful, comprehensive solution was being devised. On Oct. They were eager to learn how the United States planned to act, so they could prepare for the inevitable policy debates.
Rafe Pomerance was eager, too. Its scope was impressive: It was the first study to encompass the causes, effects and geopolitical consequences of climate change. The authors did try to imagine some of them: an ice-free Arctic, for instance, and Boston sinking into its harbor, Beacon Hill an island two miles off the coast.
He argued the opposite: There was no urgent need for action. Better to bet on American ingenuity to save the day. Major interventions in national energy policy, taken immediately, might end up being more expensive, and less effective, than actions taken decades in the future, after more was understood about the economic and social consequences of a warmer planet. Yes, the climate would change, mostly for the worst, but future generations would be better equipped to change with it. The reporters and staff members listened politely to the presentation and took dutiful notes, as at any technical briefing.
Government officials who knew Nierenberg were not surprised by his conclusions: He was an optimist by training and experience, a devout believer in the doctrine of American exceptionalism, one of the elite class of scientists who had helped the nation win a global war, invent the most deadly weapon conceivable and create the booming aerospace and computer industries. America had solved every existential problem it had confronted over the previous generation; it would not be daunted by an excess of carbon dioxide.
Nobody believed that he had been directly influenced by his political connections, but his views — optimistic about the saving graces of market forces, pessimistic about the value of government regulation — reflected all the ardor of his party. He worried about the dark undertow of industrial advancement, the way every new technological superpower carried within it unintended consequences that, if unchecked over time, eroded the foundations of society.
New technologies had not solved the clean-air and clean-water crises of the s. Activism and organization, leading to robust government regulation, had. He felt that he was the only sane person in a briefing room gone mad.
Capitol Conspiracy (Ben Kincaid Series #16)
A colleague told him to calm down. Exxon soon revised its position on climate-change research. Edward David Jr. The American Petroleum Institute canceled its own carbon-dioxide research program, too. It lacked a unifying cause. Climate change, Pomerance believed, could be that cause. But its insubstantiality made it difficult to rally the older activists, whose strategic model relied on protests at sites of horrific degradation — Love Canal, Hetch Hetchy, Three Mile Island. How did you protest when the toxic waste dump was the entire planet or, worse, its invisible atmosphere?
Pomerance acted cheerful at home, fooling his kids. She worried about his health. Near the end of his tenure at Friends of the Earth, a doctor found that he had an abnormally high heart rate. Pomerance planned to take a couple of months to reflect on what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
Two months stretched to about a year. He brooded; he checked out. He spent weeks at a time at an old farmhouse that he and Lenore owned in West Virginia, near Seneca Rocks. Pomerance sat in the cold house and thought. The winter took him back to his childhood in Greenwich. He had a vivid memory of being taught by his mother to ice skate on a frozen pond a short walk from their home. He remembered the muffled hush of twilight, the snow dusting the ice, the ghostly clearing encircled by a wood darker than the night.
Winter, Pomerance believed, was part of his soul.
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When he thought about the future, he worried about the loss of ice, the loss of the spiky Connecticut January mornings. He worried about the loss of some irreplaceable part of himself. If science, industry and the press could not move the government to act, then who could? It was as if, without warning, the sky opened and the sun burst through in all its irradiating, blinding fury.
The mental image was of a pin stuck through a balloon, a chink in an eggshell, a crack in the ceiling — Armageddon descending from above. It was a sudden global emergency: There was a hole in the ozone layer. The klaxon was rung by a team of British government scientists, until then little known in the field, who made regular visits to research stations in Antarctica — one on the Argentine Islands, the other on a sheet of ice floating into the sea at the rate of a quarter mile per year.
At each site, the scientists had set up a machine invented in the s called the Dobson spectrophotometer, which resembled a large slide projector turned with its eye staring straight up. After several years of results so alarming that they disbelieved their own evidence, the British scientists at last reported their discovery in an article published in May by Nature. But by the time the news filtered into national headlines and television broadcasts several months later, it had transfigured into something far more terrifying: a substantial increase in skin cancer, a sharp decline in the global agricultural yield and the mass death of fish larva, near the base of the marine food chain.
Later came fears of atrophied immune systems and blindness. For there was no hole, and there was no layer. Ozone, which shielded Earth from ultraviolet radiation, was distributed throughout the atmosphere, settling mostly in the middle stratosphere and never in a concentration higher than 15 parts per million. In satellite images colorized to show ozone density, however, the darker region appeared to depict a void. When F. The ozone crisis had its signal, which was also a symbol: a hole.
It was already understood, thanks to the work of Rowland and his colleague Mario Molina, that the damage was largely caused by the man-made CFCs used in refrigerators, spray bottles and plastic foams, which escaped into the stratosphere and devoured ozone molecules. It was also understood that the ozone problem and the greenhouse-gas problem were linked. CFCs were unusually potent greenhouse gases. But nobody was worried about CFCs because of their warming potential. They were worried about getting skin cancer. The negotiators failed to agree upon any specific CFC regulations in Vienna, but after the British scientists reported their findings from the Antarctic two months later, the Reagan administration proposed a reduction in CFC emissions of 95 percent.
The speed of the reversal was all the more remarkable because CFC regulation faced virulent opposition. The alliance hounded the E. The few concessions the alliance won, like forcing the E. Senior members of the United Nations Environment Program and the World Meteorological Organization, including Bert Bolin, a veteran of the Charney group, began to wonder whether they could do for the carbon-dioxide problem what they had done for ozone policy.
The organizations had been holding semiannual conferences on global warming since the early s. But in , just several months after the bad news from the Antarctic, at an otherwise sleepy meeting in Villach, Austria, the assembled 89 scientists from 29 countries began to discuss a subject that fell wildly outside their discipline: politics. An Irish hydrology expert asked if his country should reconsider the location of its dams.
A Dutch seacoast engineer questioned the wisdom of rebuilding dikes that had been destroyed by recent floods. Bruce was a minister of the Canadian environmental agency, a position that conferred him the esteem that his American counterparts had forfeited when Reagan won the White House. Just before leaving for Villach, he met with provincial dam and hydropower managers. In 20 years, will the rain be falling somewhere else?
What am I supposed to tell him? People are hearing the message, and they want to hear more. So how do we, in the scientific world, begin a dialogue with the world of action? The world of action. For a room of scientists who prided themselves as belonging to a specialized guild of monkish austerity, this was a startling provocation. On a bus tour of the countryside, commissioned by their Austrian hosts, Bruce sat with Roger Revelle, ignoring the Alps, speaking animatedly about the need for scientists to demand political remedies in times of existential crisis.
The formal report ratified at Villach contained the most forceful warnings yet issued by a scientific body.
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Most major economic decisions undertaken by nations, it pointed out, were based on the assumption that past climate conditions were a reliable guide to the future. But the future would not look like the past. Fortunately there was a new model in place to achieve just that. The balloon could be patched, the eggshell bandaged, the ceiling replastered. There was still time. Yes, Moore clarified — of course, it was an existential problem, the fate of the civilization depended on it, the oceans would boil, all of that. Know how you could tell?
Political problems had solutions. And the climate issue had none. Without a solution — an obvious, attainable one — any policy could only fail. No elected politician desired to come within shouting distance of failure. Which meant that Pomerance had a very big problem indeed. He had followed the rapid ascension of the ozone issue with the rueful admiration of a competitor. Back in , organic juice maker Lumi was still in startup phase. Additionally, a 12,square-foot manufacturing facility that Hillary Lewis, the company's founder and president, had retrofitted to manufacture her product near Charlottesville, Virginia, sat idle.
The San Francisco-based startup is on the cutting edge of technology that authenticates users' identities, and lets them pay merchants directly from their bank accounts using automated clearing house technology. The service also lets futures traders accept instant payments from their clients' bank accounts to fund trades. He adds that a government shutdown of just two weeks would cause him to shed 20 to 30 percent of his person workforce. Miller says he fears similar economic damage this time around, which could have an even greater impact now, because his company's headcount and revenue have increased by a third since As a hedge, Miller says he's tried to diversify away from solely depending on government contract work, to more commercial work.
He says he's also seeking opportunities in international contracts. It also caused delays for the Inc. However, they were smart enough to carefully plan their attacks and fitted out a rather run-of-the-mill blue Caprice to use as a sniper platform. They listened very carefully to the round-the-clock news coverage and knew they were safe since the task force spent most of the 23 days of this investigation looking for two shooters in a white van or box truck.
The Beltways Snipers case became an obsession for those of us working on the task force. Unidentified killers were killing our citizens randomly and it did not seem like there was a thing we could do to stop it. However, determination, guts, and the full resources of the federal state, city, and county governments — and the bloodhound mentality of some of the best cops in the country — would ultimately lead to their capture at a mountainside rest area in Frederick County, Md.
The book is currently available on Amazon. David Reichenbaugh's passion for law enforcement started at a very early age which led him to seek a degree in criminal justice. Malvo was the trigger man who knew…. It would be an understatement to simply call Lumpkins, who passed away on the evening of Jan. You must be logged in to post a comment. Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Search.
Evidence picture of hole made by a high-speed bullet in store front window. This was the shot that started the nightmare. Montgomery County Police arrive at Shoppers to begin a homicide investigation. Police responding to the Martin shooting had no idea of the carnage that was about to happen in their community. It was initially assumed that Buchanan had died of a heart attack or a freak accident with the lawn mower.
After being struck by the fatal shot, Buchanan made it a few feet from the sidewalk back onto the car lot, where he collapsed. Crime scene at the Mobil station a few minutes from the auto mall. Walekar died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was a target of opportunity. This was in Silver Spring, Maryland, only a few miles from the other shootings.
Sarah Ramos crime scene. Her shooting was initially reported to the police as a suicide. It did not take long for Montgomery County Police to realize that something major and very violent was happening in their community. Crime Scene photo—normal people doing normal things became targets of opportunity. Crime Scene photo—Pascal Charlot was gunned down as he stood on a corner in the District of Columbia, just across the Maryland State line. Crime Scene photo. Crime Scene photos: The first communication from the snipers, found in the woods across from the school.
The communication was a taunt. Crime Scene photo: The victim was shot while pumping gas in his car. Crime Scene photo: The media immediately flooded the scene of every shooting, putting every move the police made under scrutiny. Could the shooter be hiding among the press, watching? Crime Scene photo: Found in the woods behind the Ponderosa, another message or taunt tacked to a tree.
Their arrogance was growing. Crime Scene photo: A shell casing from the sniper rifle contained the bullet that struck Jeffrey Hopper. In their growing arrogance, the snipers were beginning to get sloppy and leave valuable evidence behind.