‘Freeman’ Strategy Quiets Tensions but Not Criticisms

The Old West may have never seen a face-off like this one. Actually, it’s not quite a face-off, nor a siege, no bristling showdown at the OK Corral, no do-or-die ultimatum at high noon.

You could even call it easygoing, if there weren’t so many guns in so many determined hands out here in the high plains of eastern Montana.

This is a test, a test of new federal law enforcement strategy in standoffs with armed anti-government fire-breathers.

Lie low, wait and see, say little.

So far, the results are modest. But federal agents also have averted bloodshed, and that’s good enough for many.

“Of course, it’s not over yet, but it appears they’ve learned from the terrible mistakes at both Waco and Ruby Ridge. The paramilitary approach is only provocative,” said Dick DeGuerin, defense attorney for David Koresh, who perished in 1993 with 85 other members of his Branch Davidian cult in an all-out armored federal assault on their compound near Waco, Texas.

“There has to be a mixture of patience, openness and firmness,” added James Aho, professor of sociology at Idaho State University. “The most rational thing right now is to keep negotiating.”

Still, some doubts are growing about a strategy that permits accused felons to sunbathe and carry on their lives under the very noses of the FBI and in front of television cameras day after day.

“Do you think that if four black cocaine dealers holed themselves up in a building in New York City with a lot of guns the FBI would be instructed to handle them with kid gloves?” demanded Paul Jargowsky, professor of political economy at the University of Texas at Dallas.

In Jordan, even some residents are growing impatient.

“It’s bull----. They ought to go in and get this over with. Those boys aren’t coming out. These are patient people, they wait through winter, they wait for their crops. They know how to wait,” said one lifelong resident, who, like most others here, knows the holdouts and is related to a few, and who, like many here, now prefers the protection of anonymity.

Such impulses are natural among authorities too. “A situation like this is terribly frustrating. Your instincts are to rush in and seize these people,” said one federal law enforcement official in Washington, speaking on condition of anonymity. But, he added, “the rules place a greater emphasis on discipline and measured response.”

Eventually, such frustrations, local griping and the inevitable media second-guessing could push the government to adopt a more active stance. But not now.

Instead, this is the scene in eastern Montana:

At the bottom of a small brown windblown ranch valley, cluttered with grain sheds and tractors and grazing cattle, cut by fences and a dirty pond, is a sight now familiar to millions of television watchers--the “freeman” refuge, a white clapboard house with a stovepipe chimney.

On a lonely hilltop less than a half-mile away is an armed freeman sentry in a pickup.

“Justus Township,” they call their 960-acre spread.

For 16 days now, 10 or so fugitive freemen, some other family and perhaps friends--maybe 20 or 25 total--have held their ground and created a national spectacle. They claim independence from government and now hold that government at bay.

They were out sunning themselves in the spring weather this week, and they left a defiant “Declaration of Independence” on a fence post:

“Freemen are NOT a party to the de facto corporate prostitute a/k/a the United States, nor the de facto corporate State of Montana . . . “

On an opposite ridge, which overlooks the valley, are the representatives of American’s news media, sprawled in folding chairs. Reporters who arrived here in winter snow are now daubing sunscreen on their faces against the 75-degree sunshine. One TV network rented a pair of portable toilets and had them delivered.

And the other guys, the FBI? The crack sharpshooters, the weapon teams, the fearsome ninja squads?

Like prairie dogs in a buffalo stampede, you might say. There’s not much of them to be seen right now, at least from the vantage of the freemen.

Two road checkpoints have been established on the 36-mile dirt road between Jordan and the freeman ranch. Here, hidden from the ranch, a handful of FBI agents with handguns and bulletproof vests inspect cars for weapons--and fugitives. But passage is usually not impeded, and supporters of the freemen have been allowed access.

On one distant hilltop, out of sight of the ranch house, is another roadblock, shielding an FBI communication outpost. At a separate log house beyond the freemen’s compound, also out of sight, is said to be another FBI installation.

Closer to town, the FBI has set up what appears to be a headquarters at the Garfield County fairgrounds. Agents in their muddy four-wheel-drive Chevy Suburbans are common sights driving through Jordan, and several off-duty agents have been jogging near town.

The FBI strategy has not been explicitly stated, but it has been plainly demonstrated: Patience.

Agents aren’t talking, except good-natured small talk. Some were said to be covering occasional tabs for locals at the Hell Creek Bar as a show of goodwill. U.S. Atty. Sherry Matteucci is saying only that she is “optimistic” for a peaceful end. Local authorities, once chatterboxes, have clammed up, apparently at the FBI’s behest. And the residents of Jordan and environs have caught the spirit too. The idea seems to be to not let stray words inflame the high-strung freeman leaders.

It could be a long wait. Despite some rumors now and then of further progress, Garfield County Atty. Nickolas C. Murnion told reporters this week that a sticking point remains with the freemen: “They believe they have a right to a separate government.”

The cost of the standoff in federal tax dollars has not been enumerated. But surely it is significant in time and equipment. So far, that does not seem to be a worry for federal authorities.

Since Waco and the deaths of three people at a smaller 1992 siege at Ruby Ridge, Idaho, where holdout Randy Weaver was arrested on weapon charges, federal authorities changed the rules of engagement in such standoffs. Beyond the desire to avoid gunfire and recrimination, the aim may be to deprive other government-hating extremists of martyrs and a further excuse to spread their messages of apocalyptic fear.

All of this may leave the freemen themselves “a little disappointed,” speculated Tony Cooper, an expert on terrorism who teaches ethics and the law at the University of Texas at Dallas. “This is going with a whimper and not a bang,” Cooper said. “I think they are nonplused by the new FBI tactics.”

Even those who support restraint now suggest the holdouts cannot be obliged forever.

“If you go in, there will be people killed, including perhaps some innocent people. So the question right now is whether that is worth it. In time it might become worth it. But we’ve only been in this for two weeks,” said Prof. Aho at Idaho State.

But, Aho added, the government cannot retreat, despite various efforts of Montana state legislators to “negotiate” a settlement.

“If the government were to cave in, I guarantee there would be whole counties in the Northwest seceding from the government and forming sovereign republics,” he said.

With its go-easy approach toward the freemen, the FBI has attracted unexpected allies.

Lynn John Hiuzen, elected commander of the Michigan Militia Wolverines, pronounced himself “satisfied with the way this is being handled by the FBI.”

“The FBI has assured me there will not be another Waco or Ruby Ridge. I think they are going to be able to mediate the situation and come up with something that is acceptable to all sides,” Hiuzen said in an interview.

“And I don’t mind paying a few extra taxes for a peaceful solution.”