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January 22, 2013. Washington, D.C.
Secret Service Detective Tom Jensen heard about the explosion seconds after it
occurred. He figured the explosion was either set on a timer or was remotely detonated
from someone nearby. Most bombers like to see their work in action, so there was a high
likelihood the bomber was still within the area, and probably within sight distance of the
church. He ordered an immediate ten-city block cordon around the bomb site, with no
one except paramedics, police and the injured getting in or out. All paramedics would
need to present identification to get through the road blocks. He called Ruddy Montana,
and asked him to send his best 100 agents out into the field immediately to begin
canvassing every house within the cordon, starting with the houses closest to the bomb
site. He also called the FBI explosives experts, ordering them to the scene immediately.
Then he got in his Lincoln town car and headed down to the church. He still couldn‘t
believe the bomber had been successful. How had his agents missed the bombs in their
security sweeps of the church? Someone‘s head was going to roll.
The D.C. police officer at the barricade with Morse, after hearing the explosion and
seeing the fireball several blocks away, was filled with adrenaline. This man here knew
about the explosion before it occurred. He could be a terrorist. The officer drew his
revolver and pointed it at Morse.
―Sir, I need you to turn around slowly and put your hands on the hood of your car.‖
―What?‖ Morse asked, confused.
―SIR!‖ the officer yelled, aiming the gun. ―I am not going to ask you again! Turn
around and put your hands on the hood.‖
Morse did as he was told.
The officer radioed for backup into his shoulder mike. ―This is DSN 176, I am at the
Southwest Alpha barricade at St. Anthony‘s. I need two backup cars here immediately. I
have a possible suspect for the church bombing.‖
The officer placed Morse in the back of his squad car and shut the door. Moments
later, five more police cars came screaming up to the barricade, lights blaring. The D.C.
cops poured out of the cars with their guns drawn, filled with testosterone. Another
officer obtained Morse‘s nylon zippered bag from the front seat of his car and seized his
Avis rental contract, as well as his map of D.C., which he bagged as potential evidence.
The officers apparently decided to take him down to the precinct, figuring they could
interrogate Morse before Homeland Security took over. Every officer there wanted a
crack at Morse, and they fought over who should get to interrogate him. Each hoped they
could get an admission from Morse and be the hero of this thing. Two officers hopped in
each of the three police cars and they drove down to the station.
―Officer, can I ask where you are putting my bag?‖
The officer ignored him.
―Officer, can I ask you…
―Sir, you have the right to remain silent, and I suggest you use it right now!‖ yelled
the cop in the front seat.
Morse remained quiet.