- Jul 12, 2018
- 9,857
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
World Trade Center Plaza
September 8, 2001
10:01 P.M. EST
Private
World Trade Center Plaza
September 8, 2001
10:01 P.M. EST
Private
Special Agent Jeff West, 35 years old, was standing roughly in the middle of the plaza that separated the two twin towers of the World Trade Center. He was staring up at a large art piece called The Sphere which was an abstract centerpiece of the plaza. West had been awake since five that morning and had now been working that day for over sixteen hours. A riot had been declared in Downtown Manhattan in the early afternoon. Nevertheless, the top button of his dress shirt was still buttoned and his dark blue tie was still tightly fastened against his neck. He had a flashback to when he was going through the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center at Glynco. Despite the fact that he had just achieved a near perfect score on an oral examination, an instructor was chastising him for having a loose tie. Believe it or not, he was nearly kicked out of the entire program because of it. West wondered where he would be in life right now if he hadn't joined the Secret Service.
Probably not staring at modern-art at ten at night on a Saturday, he thought to himself.
Earlier that afternoon New York Mayor Rudolph "Rudy" Giuliani set up a temporary command center at 7 World Trade Center. The Secret Service, the clandestine service of the Central Intelligence Agency, and some other government offices were located inside of the building, along with the headquarters of New York City's Office of Emergency Management. Giuliani, leadership from the New York Police Department (NYPD), the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, the FBI, the Secret Service, and the New York State Police gathered in 7 World Trade Center to coordinate a containment of the riot to five blocks in the city. The riot was an unusual situation because instead of hostility being focused strictly on the police or the city itself, the rioters were really two different groups that were essentially at war with each other. The situation had only gotten worse as nightfall came. More and more demonstrators continued to arrive out of nowhere which forced Mayor Giuliani to take the unprecedented step of halting all public transport to and from Manhattan Island. Special Agent West and his partner were assigned to the Secret Service's field office at 7 World Trade Center. They were assigned to the field, specifically the WTC Plaza, to assist the Port Authority and the NYPD in keeping the site free of any lawlessness.
"West... Agent West!" a tired, feminine voice said, and then shouted at him. It was his partner, Special Agent Brooke Crawford. West snapped out of his daydream and turned his head to look at her. In the background behind them were the two tallest buildings in the world.
"Crawford, what do you have?" West asked.
"We're packing it up. NYPD arrested about 400 people and the rest have dispersed. It's too early to tell, but the rumor is that there are 22 dead and some 300 people injured. People were fighting each other in the streets... The Mayor issued a curfew for lower Manhattan," she said. Crawford was dressed in a dark blue pantsuit and a white blouse. She had long brown hair and big green eyes, neither of which made her look intimidating.
"You heard 22 dead?" West asked in disbelief.
"Yeah," Crawford responded as she checked her pager. "They're saying it's the worst riot in the city in 150 years... We're being buzzed to go back into the office," she said.
West sighed and put his hand down for a few seconds. He took in a deep breath and then exhaled. He and Crawford walked back into WTC 7 and took the elevator up. Maybe they'll give us Monday off, he thought to himself, knowing that would never happen. The two agents took the elevator to the office of the Edward Wilks, Special Agent in Charge - he was the leader of this office of Secret Service, as well as eleven others throughout New York City and Newark. Inside his office were senior federal agents from the Secret Service and the FBI.
"West, you look awful," Wilks said as he took his seat behind his desk. Some of the other agents in the room were talking amongst themselves while a few were listening.
"I know that you've both been out there all day, but I need you to do some interviews before you go home. Our friends at the Bureau passed on a rumor to us that whatever happened tonight might happen in Washington. They're taking the lead on this entire thing, but we have to do our due diligence and gather intel on what these people might have planned for Washington, and if there's a potential POTUS Tripple One," he said, POTUS being shorthand for "President of The United States".
"Yes sir," Crawford said eagerly. West resisted a strong urge to roll his eyes when she did that.
"Sir," West said. "NYPD just arrested 400 people. How many do you want us to talk to tonight?" he asked.
"They've all been Mirandized and they're being held at the intersection of Church and Liberty. PD is bringing in busses but that's going to take a while considering they're about 25 blocks of blockades that have to be unraveled. Most of them wont speak without their attorney, but the Bureau has two characters down there that they think we should talk to," he said. Wilks kept his opinions to himself, but New York sure had changed in the past twenty years. In the 80s the city seemed to be on the brink of anarchy and things seemed to only be getting worse until Giuliani was sworn in as Mayor in 1994. The NYPD was empowered to enforce the law again, its numbers surged, and its budget was dramatically in place. Wilks could remember a time where a riot on this scale would have lasted until the next morning because of how disorganized, understaffed, and underfunded the NYPD was. Now they were like a small army - almost too big.
West blinked a few times. All he wanted to do was sleep, "Yes sir. We'll walk there and then find our way back home," he said.
Crawford and West left Wilks's office. They stepped into the lobby of 7 World Trade Center. The intersection of Church and Liberty was only four of five blocks away. They walked back out into the plaza. The Port Authority and the NYPD were removing barricades and dismantling an unused fallback position that had been set up in front of the plaza. Crawford could tell that West was tired and that he was annoyed with her. West knew that she could tell he didn't want to talk, because she had something like six degrees in psychology, but he also knew that she was still too young to just shut up sometimes.
"Alright..." Crawford said, and then yawned.
"Alright, what?" West said back as he shoved one of the glass doors to the building and they stepped outside.
"You said this is the worst riot in New York in 150 years. There's probably plenty of federal felonies to go around between the 400 people that were arrested. Out of the entire Lower Manhattan field office of the Secret Service, only you and I are being sent to interview two people?" she asked as they walked into the WTC Plaza.
"Wilks said the FBI is taking the lead on this, at least from the federal side... so the FBI is taking the lead on this," he repeated matter-of-factly. "They don't want a bunch of us meddling in their investigation. Quite frankly I'm surprised that we have as much information as we do. My guess is either that someone in the Bureau owes Wilks a favor, or that the Bureau wants to brag about how cooperative they are with other agencies to someone... Regardless, they're not doing this out of the kindness of their hearts," Crawford said before he kicked a small rock into the street. They stepped out of the plaza and onto the sidewalk along Greenwich Street.
"So Wilks could only send two people from the entire Lower Manhattan office, and he sent us? Two agents that have been here since before dawn?" Crawford quickly responded. Something didn't add up to her.
"Wilks probably doesn't think this will go anywhere, and its ten at night. We won't be going home until midnight. So, who better to send than the drunk with two strikes and the new kid?" he said as he put his hands in his pockets. This time he kicked an empty beer can into the deserted street, which was bizarre for Manhattan.
"So what if you're on probation," Crawford quickly responded - she knew that this was a sensitive subject for West. "Your disciplinary hearing went well and you weren't demoted. You'll be fine... Can we slow down a little?" she said, finishing with a question. She didn't think she'd be out in the field today, so she wore heels (short heels, but they were still heels).
"They're going to keep me on rookie duty until I retire or resign," West said. They still had four or so blocks to go and he figured tomorrow was going to be awful whether he got four or five hours of sleep, so he slowed his pace.
"You've taught me everything I know so far... stop being so negative," Crawford said. West didn't respond and they kept walking. The site of Lower Manhattan without vehicular traffic is something totally alien to a local. Film crews from Hollywood wished they could achieve the quiet emptiness that West and Crawford were walking through right now.
The two agents made it to the intersection of Church and Liberty. There were hundreds of people who were handcuffed and sitting on the curb or in the street. The NYPD was slowly loading the arrested demonstrators onto busses. It only took a few moments before a police officer noticed them. Before he could say anything Crawford pulled out her ID and badge which were inside of a foldable leather holder.
"I'm Special Agent Crawford and this is Special Agent West with the Secret Service. We came from the World Trade Center - someone said there's a couple of people that we need to talk to?" she said in a tone that indicated they had no idea who they were looking for.
"Yeah, you want to talk to Captain Green.. He's the one with the gold bars," the officer said in reference to the captain's rank. The officer pointed to a shorter man with greying hair. Despite his stature he looked like the kind of guy that could lead an Army into war. The officer let West and Crawford past the police line. This time West took the lead. He walked up to the Captain and flashed his ID.
"Captain, I'm Special Agent West, this is Special Agent Crawford. We were told that there's a couple of guys down here that we should be talking to," he said very clearly, like he didn't want to repeat himself.
The captain looked exhausted, even more than West and Crawford. "Yeah, I'm Captain Dan Green - they're down here," is all Green said before he started walking. The two agents followed him down Liberty Street, past hundreds of people who had been arrested and were now awaiting processing. Some of them looked fine while others were bruised, bloody, or still recovering form the effects of teargas and pepper spray. Most of the people looked confused while some were talking with each other. After walking for a couple of minutes the captain stopped.
"Martinez and Bell, get up," Green ordered. Two men were isolated from the rest and were sitting next to each other. Captain Green helped up both of the men, since they were handcuffed.
"Unless you're going to charge them with a federal felony, they're mine. You have about twenty minutes until we take them in for booking - tell your boss that he owes me one," Green said before he sarcastically tipped his service cap at Crawford and walked back to where they had come from near the intersection of Liberty and Church.
"You take him," West said to Crawford as he pointed at a bald white man in his early 40s. West twenty or so feet away with the other man, who would turn out to be Bell.
"I already told that guy all I know," Martinez said to Agent West as he gestured toward Captain Green who was still walking away. Martinez was a light skinned Puerto Rican man with jet black hair, brown eyes, straight white teeth and a surprisingly weak accent.
"Yeah, go ahead and tell me again.. Maybe I can put in a word for you when they take you downtown," West responded as he unfolded a notebook and clicked an ink pin. Martinez looked annoyed, but he was still willing to talk. West didn't have high hopes that this would go anywhere. After all, he and Crawford seemed to be talking to the only two idiots out of 400 arrested people that were willing to talk without an attorney present.
"My name is Gabriel Martinez, I'm from Yonkers. I protested tonight to keep these fascist nutjobs out of New York and I'd do it again." Martinez was doing his best to look tough while West scribbled in his notebook.
"Wait, you said Yonkers? What do you do for a living?" West asked. Yonkers wasn't technically part of New York City - it was kind of like a super rich exclave of the city. West wasn't sure why some rich guy from Yonkers would be part of a riot.
"I'm in finance, I work here in Manhattan.. Some of my friends from the Collective told me about what was going on tonight and I was going to just sit by and watch these guys march through Manhattan," Martinez said.
"The Collective, what's that?"
"You know, the Green Collective. It's a bunch of people that stand against fascists and racists like these guys from the Patriot Front," Martinez said, as if he thought West was playing dumb with him. Martinez went on and on about how Patriot Front was behind so many of the protests and riots up along the East Coast. Meanwhile, Mister Bell was telling Agent Crawford how the Green Collective were a bunch of tree-hugging communists that wanted to destroy America. When she pushed him on anything about fascism or racism, he denied it.
"You'd be wishing for fascism if you lived in the kind of America those Collective-types want," Bell told her.
Martinez and Bell spilled their guts to the two Secret Service agents for almost half an hour. What eventually became clear to the two agents was that these two groups, Patriot Front and Green Collective, were two larger organizations that were in a de facto state of war with each other over ideological grounds. However, it was unclear why they kept clashing in the streets all across the East Coast or how they managed to influence so many people from different walks of life in such a short amount of time. West didn't doubt that the FBI probably already had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but he doubted they would get anywhere with asking them - his boss wouldn't have sent them on this errand if that had worked.
West closed his notepad and thanked Martinez for his time as a NYPD officer came to take him away to one of the busses.
"I heard that Washington is next," Martinez said.
West walked alongside him and the police officer as they approached the bus. "What? Where did you hear that from? What makes you so sure?"
"I heard it through the grapevine... It makes sense, though, doesn't it? Patriot Front hates America, don't you think they'd want to bring this bullshit to the capital?"
After their interviews, Agent West and Agent Crawford compared notes. While they weren't sure on the exact specifics of these organizations yet, it was clear to them that Patriot Front and Green Collective hated each other, and that the members of the two organizations were fixated on stopping each other. Both of them agreed that the obsessive-hatred almost seemed cult-like. Crawford and West each wrote up short 500-word reports at the office and filed them, along with their notes, before heading home. While they didn't know it yet, both of them would have another long day tomorrow.
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