When Sarah Ramos was killed, I was sitting in my office in Columbia, Maryland, oblivious of the events unfolding in Montgomery County. The first hint came when Montgomery County police put out a lookout for a white van occupied by two men. As I would later learn, a landscaper working close to where Ramos was murdered said he had seen a white van with two men in it leaving the parking lot immediately after the shooting, heading north. Two men. It was the first time anyone had had any hint that this wasn’t a lone gunman. The BOLO (be on the lookout) went out to all surrounding counties and smaller police departments, as well as to the D.C. Metropolitan Police Department and the troopers assigned to the Rockville Barrack.
Though forensic analysis was not yet available, it was obvious to any trained investigator that the high-speed bullets fired were from a rifle. That meant one thing—a sniper. But it was only speculation as to why it was occurring. Speculation was something there wasn’t any time for—the immediate problem was trying to stop the killing. The only way police could think to do that was to flood the area with as many police officers as possible. The hope was that officers would get lucky and catch the shooters, or at least make it difficult for them to continue their killing spree. Nothing was concrete, though. Police were still trying to figure out connections among the victims, and trying to locate a motive. Plus, they were being cautious; there was no indication this van had any connection to the shootings. It could still be just one shooter.
At 9:58 a.m. Lori Ann Lewis-Rivera was vacuuming the inside of her minivan at a Shell gas station several miles from the Crisp and Juicy. At that same moment I was in the midst of being briefed about the shootings by Major Jimmy Ballard. As I listened, I was trying to wrap my head around the events. My mind was racing—I had to form a plan, issue orders, and get the troops and the agency mobilized and moving.
Because things were happening faster than the police could keep up with them, news about the killings had not been made public. We didn’t want to inform the public until we had enough information and a clearer picture of what was going on. So, as Lewis-Rivera went about her task unaware of what was going on in the area, she was murdered. As with the other killings, she appeared to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
There were no witnesses. Security footage recovered from the gas station and surrounding businesses captured the moment when she was struck by the bullet, but there was nothing on the video that was of any evidentiary value, nothing to help identify any suspects or suspect vehicles. We decided to set up the state police temporary command post at the Rockville Barrack in an effort to coordinate all the active homicide investigations and activity associated around the multiple crime scenes. The Montgomery County Police Department was now scrambling for clues to who was doing the shooting and why. Until they understood motive or had more evidence, they were powerless to stop it. All they could do was respond to the violence as it unfolded around them.
As a precaution, and because of what had occurred at Columbine High School in Colorado, all the schools in Montgomery County were placed on Code Blue alert and locked down. Outdoor activities associated with the schools were canceled. Through dribs and drabs, the public was beginning to learn that something serious and violent was happening in their normally quiet community.
I was on the road between my office and the Rockville Barrack when I got a call on my cell phone about Lori Ann Lewis-Rivera’s murder. Meanwhile, everyone—including, now, me—was on the lookout for a white box truck or a white van. I knew the state police wouldn’t be involved with the investigation beyond providing manpower and support, but still, the investigator in me began processing what limited information I had in an effort to understand what was happening and why. Was this really a lone gunman? Or was this some sort of terrorist cell or cells carrying out a sophisticated mission? Was this the other shoe that we had all expected to drop after 9/11? It sure felt like it. A sniper out there killing random people was a nightmare scenario for cops, especially in light of 9/11. Were there other groups, in other cities, carrying out the same type of mission? Was there a connection between the victims that would make some sort of twisted sense once we knew it? If so, who was going to be next?
I was trying to put myself in the mind-set of the bad guys, which is what I had been trained to do. If indeed this were the work of a terrorist cell, the next logical step would be to take out a law enforcement officer or two. The seeds of panic would have already been planted in the general public, so now it would make sense to target cops. That would show that the police department and the government weren’t able to protect the public. Was this another act of war perpetrated on our country? Was the new front line Montgomery County?
It all made terrible sense to me as I sped toward Rockville Barrack. I thought about the dozens of troopers around the region and the state who would have their duties and barrack assignments shifted to Montgomery County to assist in this investigation. I thought about the fact that all the victims were shot with a high-speed bullet, which meant a high-powered rifle, which meant that the ballistic bullet-proof vests the troopers wore weren’t going to stop that type of bullet. Those vests would be just another piece of clothing that would have to be removed at the hospital, or, worse, the morgue.
I knew that one of the easiest and first mistakes you could make in any homicide investigation was to get tunnel vision—to decide in your own mind why the crime has been committed and who the most likely suspect might be, then to fashion the evidence to fit the scenario in your head. Was this what I was starting to do? There had to be some rational, albeit twisted reason why this was happening and why these particular people had been chosen. Was this a street gang hit or a major drug-trafficking operation that had somehow gone bad, and all our victims were somehow intertwined in it? Were they collateral damage, getting in the way of a bullet intended for somebody else? Or was this the worst kind of case—a sniper running loose killing people at random simply because he could? Whatever it was, this was a real who-the-hell-done-it case, one that was going to be extremely difficult to solve unless the perpetrator or perpetrators made a mistake. Or, through his or their own arrogance, pointed us in the right direction.
From I-95 South I caught the Washington Beltway and headed west to I-270, which led north to the Rockville Barrack. The BOLO for the white van or box truck was being rebroadcast about every fifteen minutes. The Maryland State Police operates communications among all of its cars using multiple radio frequencies. Because of my position, I was lucky enough to have a newer radio that could broadcast on the channel or barrack area I was traveling in, but could scan the other channels as well. The primary channel overrode the scanning function—any radio traffic coming from the barrack that the radio was switched to would be heard loud and clear. To the untrained ear, it would be like listening to an AM radio station near dark; you pick up multiple stations on one setting. It can sound confusing and impossible to understand at times. Most state troopers take cars home and can use them for their personal and family use, within reason. My wife hated that radio because it was always squawking and was turned up loud. To her, it was an annoying amount of meaningless noise. To me, it was perfectly clear what was being broadcast.
I switched over from the Waterloo channel onto the Forestville channel (Prince George’s County), then onto the Rockville channel. The airwaves were full of news of troopers stopping every white van and box-style truck on the highway. Troopers ride alone. Since there’s only one trooper needed for one riot, as our motto had it, why should we change? There were many old salts who still thought this way. But I always lent a hand whenever I could. If I saw a trooper on the side of the road on a traffic stop, I always pulled in behind him or stopped across the road if we were going in opposite directions. This was to make sure the trooper was okay, and also to send a signal to the driver who had been stopped that the trooper had backup. On my way to Rockville that day I pulled up behind several troopers. Now, more than ever, troopers needed someone watching their backs.