Investigators Are Hot on the Trail of a Palm Tree Pyromaniac

It’s a clear night in the San Fernando Valley. From Fire Station 73 on Reseda Boulevard the street lights form a bright, straight line that tapers off into the hills to the north. It is warm out and there is not much of a breeze. But Bill Cass and Glen Lucero wear light jackets over their black T-shirts anyway--to hide the guns holstered at their sides.

Cass tests the undercover car’s portable emergency light; the red strobe flashes across his face. He tunes the portable radio. The car pulls away from the fire station and into the evening traffic. Cass cracks a window and samples the air.

“Good night for a fire,” he says.

Cass and Lucero are Los Angeles Fire Department arson investigators. But tonight they are not going to dig through charred debris, trace the spread pattern of a fire, or collect ash samples to be tested by a gas chromatograph for fire accelerants.

Tonight they are off the normal track. They are chasing a phantom. They will patrol the heart of the West Valley, on the watch for a pyromaniac who has puzzled them for nearly half a year.

Since Oct. 1, 110 related arson fires have been counted in the Reseda-Northridge-Canoga Park area. In each case, trash or trees were set ablaze. Often, it was palm trees that got torched.

Only a few times have sparks carried on the wind and caused minor damage to nearby structures or cars. But the sheer number of related fires is great. It’s the most in Los Angeles that any city arson investigator can remember.

On the pyromaniac watch, Cass and Lucero, behind the wheel, begin to weave their way through the dark neighborhood streets where the arsonist has struck so often. They watch for anything or anyone suspicious.

Battalion Chief William Burmester, who held a briefing at Station 73 before the recent night’s patrol started, said the fear is that the suspect might move from small targets to structures where lives would be threatened.

“There is always a danger, even with a guy like this who is not setting large fires,” Burmester said.

The unmarked car, Unit A-3, cruises into Canoga Park. So far, it is quiet.

Unit A-3 passes a stand of palm trees on Oso Avenue that the arsonist hit a week earlier. The fronds atop the stark, charred trunks point skyward like black spears. The smell of smoke is still in the air.

“We came awful close last week,” Cass says. “We had a car go by here, then 30 seconds later these trees were set. One minute the other way and we might have caught him. It has been that frustrating.”

Not all of the 110 fires included in this investigation were the work of one person. A 16-year-old Reseda boy with emotional problems was arrested Jan. 23 after admitting he set six of the fires, copying the original arsonist’s pattern of targeting trees and trash.

There could be other copycats, but for the most part investigators believe the fires are being set by one person or, perhaps, two working together. Often several fires are started on a single night. Then as long as two weeks go by without a blaze.

The theory that two arsonists may be working together--one a fire starter, the other a driver--is based on the mobility needed to have set the fires.

“The fires are set so quickly,” Lucero says. “It could be one guy lighting them and somebody else doing the driving.”

For the most part, the fires have been concentrated in Reseda and adjacent areas and generally occur in the early evenings. But no specific pattern or motive has emerged to help investigators identify a suspect.

“It is almost completely random as far as the locations go,” Cass says. “Recently, he’s been more interested in trees than trash. We don’t know what that means.”

Even more baffling is the question of why.

Investigators say the case is an enigma. Unlike most arsonists, the fire-starter here doesn’t stay around to view his blazes. Quickly he moves on to set other fires--sometimes as many as 12 a night. “All pyros don’t stand around and watch,” says Lucero. “This one doesn’t.”

Investigators have worked for months to determine a motive for the fires but have come up with nothing.

Cass, the senior investigator assigned to the case, has interviewed formerly convicted arsonists who now live in the area; checked out disgruntled firefighters and police officers and unsuccessful applicants for those jobs; even studied graffiti found near some of the fires, thinking that the arsons were possibly part of a gang initiation rite.

“We’ve kicked a lot of rocks over and haven’t found anything,” Cass says. “There is no rhyme or reason to this. We’re getting burned out.”

“No pun intended,” adds Lucero.

Despite the arson patrols, investigators believe that it may take a lucky break to solve this mystery: the arsonist will slip up or somebody will get a good look at him or his license plate number.

Fire Department officials have gone to homeowners’ meetings and put tipster notices in shop windows throughout the area. A reward of up to $1,000 is offered for information leading to an arrest.

“We want people to be aware that he’s out there,” Burmester said. “We need them to be on the lookout.”

It’s 9:30 p.m. and not a single fire call, arson or otherwise, has come from the area the arson units are patrolling. On the nights the arsonist has struck, he has never started later than this. So Cass decides to end the surveillance and bring the other units back to Station 73.

The night is a standoff. No fires, no arrest. But it doesn’t sit well with Cass. He credits the arsonist with being one of the toughest opponents he has faced in 13 years as an arson investigator.

“This guy is pretty bold,” he says. “I’m sensing we are into a cat-and-mouse game.”

But how long the game will last, and who is playing which part, isn’t always clear.

“It’s kind of like he’s yanking our chain a little,” Cass says, the frustration showing in his voice. “He’s got to know we are out here. Is he watching us? Who knows?”