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04/23/93

Branch Davidian tragedy haunts McLennan sheriff

By Lee Hancock / The Dallas Morning News

WACO-McLennan County Sheriff Jack Harwell says he is haunted by what he was powerless to avoid.

The career lawman said Thursday that he is troubled that his officers had no legal means to stop David Koresh in the three years before the Branch Davidian leader's effort to arm his followers and provoke his own Armageddon.

He said he is frustrated that in 51 days of negotiations, he and others could do or say nothing to prevent the cult from mass immolation.

Law enforcement officials say cult members set their compound on fire Monday as armored vehicles punched holes into the buildings and pumped tear gas inside. Surviving cult members have said that the shocks of the armored vehicles hitting the buildings overturned several lanterns, causing the fire.

The 21-year sheriff said he is furious that the tragedy could have been prevented if someone had not tipped Mr. Koresh to the federal raid that began the deadly standoff.

"I drive up there, and I think, 'Why isn't that structure still standing? Why couldn't this thing have worked?' " said Sheriff Harwell, 64. "It is heartbreaking to know that this was happening, and there was nothing you could do."

Sheriff Harwell said his department first feared trouble from the cult three years ago, when he heard reports that Mr. Koresh vowed never again to submit to police.

Standing trial

Mr. Koresh and seven followers stood trial in 1988 on a charge of attempted murder after an armed confrontation with a rival Branch Davidian leader over control of the sect's 77-acre compound.

All were acquitted, Sheriff Harwell said, but Mr. Koresh was embittered by the high cost of the group's legal fees.

When he and others negotiating the recent standoff tried to remind Mr. Koresh of his earlier court victory, Sheriff Harwell said, the cult leader said the price of fighting in a courtroom-and paying for attorney-was far too high.

"He said, 'Yes, I beat it ... but I had to pay the price for it. If I beat this I will have to pay the price for it too,' " Sheriff Harwell said.

The sheriff said he believes that the criminal trial led the cult leader to begin arming-initially to fend off rival leaders but ultimately to take on the law.

Deputies learned that the group posted armed guards and suspected all outsiders.

He said he warned his deputies never to approach the compound alone or unannounced, even when they accompanied social workers investigating allegations of child abuse within the sect.

"They were capable of being dangerous to anyone who approached their property without first notifying them," he said, recounting Incidents where guns were pulled on passers-by who simply turned into the cult's driveway.

But there was never sufficient evidence to allow law enforcement to act, he said.

"Vernon Howell may have done things, but I couldn't prove them," he said, referring to Mr. Koresh by the name that the cult leader used until 1990.

Ultimately, though, Sheriff Harwell said, his deputies gathered enough evidence to bring in the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. After an eight-month investigation, the federal agency decided to mount a raid to arrest Mr. Koresh and search the compound for illegal weapons.

Dismissing critics

Sheriff Harwell dismisses critics who contend that the cult leader would have surrendered to the sheriff in February because he had peacefully surrendered to him before.

"I would have tried to arrest him, and I would've never walked out of there alive," he said. "One day there had to be a confrontation with them. They were building for this."

But when the confrontation came, the sheriff said, the cult was warned, armed and ready. In the ensuing gunbattle, four ATF agents were killed and 16 were wounded.

Sheriff Harwell contends that the cult was tipped by reporters from the Waco newspaper or from a local TV crew who were waiting at the compound as ATF agents arrived.

Both media outlets have denied tipping off the cult.

Texas Rangers are still investigating whether criminal charges can

be filed against the sources of the tip.

"I resent them for it. You lost four good men out there. You had to be out there to watch those boys' bodies being brought out like wet logs . . . " the sheriff said, breaking down in tears. 'It cost the lives of better than 100 people. All those babies. All those agents."

During the long siege, the sheriff monitored negotiations. When talks stalled, he first talked to Mr. Koresh and then met face-to-face with the cult leaders on March 15.

"I didn't have a lot of hope that we could talk him out, but I wanted to try to help build a trust," he said.

When he went to the compound for the talk, he said, the FBI's tactical commander told him about an incident in which a North Carolina sheriff had tried to end a similar standoff.

"He told me the sheriff stepped from behind the barricade and got shot between the eyes . . . I carried that up there in my mind."

As he approached the cult members, wearing his white Stetson hat so they could identify him, he avoided looking at the compound because didn't want to see guns trained at him.

He was met by cult lieutenant Steve Schneider and Wayne Martin, a Harvard-educated lawyer who strode out through the rain and ankle-deep mud in a suit, tie and overcoat as if dressed for court.

Talks went nowhere

Although initially positive, he said, the talks went nowhere.

Sheriff Harwell said he agreed with the FBI's decision to gas the compound but doubted that it would drive anyone out.

Even so, he said, he was was stunned when a deputy ran into the makeshift law enforcement restaurant where he was eating lunch Monday and told him the nearby compound had been set afire.

He said he rushed back to the FBI's forward command post and joined other officials watching the conflagration from FBI videocameras mounted around the compound.

"People weren't talking. They just stood there. The only thing I heard was, 'They've got to come out. Why aren't they coming out? Surely they're going to come out,' " he said.

"It ran through my head a strong hatred for Vernon Howell, and I don't hate many people, but that hatred is still there for me," he said. "It's a strong hatred and it's the thought that if I could just get my hands on him.... He doesn't deserve the easy way out that he got."

      © 1996 The Dallas Morning News
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