[The Navajo Country and the White-Person Buzzard]1
“A rocky vineyard does not need a prayer, but a pickaxe.”
Diné Proverb2
DAY 1: Morning3
Officer Charles “Gad” Yazzie was not “small”, despite the meaning of his Navajo name. At 5’11” he still looked like the linebacker he used to be for the Greyhills Academy Highschool’s “Fightin’ Knights”. A veteran of the 2d Cav, Gad had applied to the Navajo Police Academy when he was discharged from the US Army. ‘Not many of our people choose being a police officer as their road in life, and it takes a special kind of person to travel this route’, his uncle, Officer Gilbert Yazzie had told him. He had found that to be true, especially on days like today.4
Yazzie had left the Kaibeto Police Sub-Station a few hours before, to visit Manuelito Ahiga. ‘Sicheii’, one of the Code Talkers, aged 90, was cared for by his granddaughter Shideezhi and grandson Jonny Greywolf. The proud veteran lived in a hogan on a dirt track a few miles off route 20, and was dependent on Jonny for transportation. Gad had the unpleasant duty to tell him that Jonny had been badly injured in a brawl at Tuba City the night before; and had been taken to the hospital in Flagstaff for emergency surgery. He stayed to listen to the old man’s problems. It didn’t hurry Gad on his way either that Jonny’s sister was there. She was two years younger than Charlie, very handsome, but still unmarried. Whoever married her would inherit the care of Sicheii. Charlie liked to call her ‘Doli’. “Too bad,” he thought, “Jonny’s always makin’ trouble for Doli.” 5
When the visit was finished Sicheii walked slowly arm in arm with Gad and Doli out to the police panel. He looked up when he heard the screech of a zone-tailed hawk. “Look Gad. Our friend the hawk is angry. See how he flies west. He is hurrying to meet an enemy. A buzzard perhaps? Beware of the turkey buzzard Gad, they announce death.”6
“Yes, Sicheii,” the officer answered with respect. Sicheii’s observations always had several levels of meaning, and Gad would try to ponder them.7
On his way back to Kaibeto, about a mile from the hogan, he pulled his Chevy Suburban to the side of the road to take a leak. “Too much coffee,” he complained to himself as he stepped to the shoulder of the road. Some distance behind him he heard the loud dropping-pitch scream of a zone-tailed hawk. The same one as before, he assumed. The screeching grew louder and closer. “What’s the matter brother hawk,” he asked as he zipped up. 8
Suddenly there was a windy, whistling, flapping-sheet sound behind him. He turned just in time to see the hawk’s talons rake the rudder of an aircraft flying just meters off the ground. “OH SH..!” he began to swear as he threw himself backward. He watched in seeming slow motion as the yawing aircraft slammed into the hood and roof of his police vehicle, and ricocheted over the shallow arroyo in which he lay. In a tempest of mid-summer dust and dry shrubs the damaged aircraft came to an abrupt halt not twenty yards away.9
He rolled on his stomach to look as dust from the crash settled on to his tan uniform. “Dang, that was close”, he exhaled in disbelief. The hawk circled the grounded aircraft several times then flew away. Expecting to see flames at any moment, Officer Yazzie ran through the tangled underbrush to the crash site. As he moved towards the cockpit he realised that it was a sailplane, not a powered aircraft. “You hurt?” he asked as he threw open the canopy. As an answer he was confronted by the stillness of death. 10
After 2nd Cav service in Bosnia, and attending car crashes in the Navajo Nation, dead bodies were nothing new to him. But this! This was a poser! The desiccated corpse in the glider was obviously long dead. The scent of the cockpit was of musty, mouldering death, not recent putrefaction. The mummified corpse was dressed in a faded uniform. Yazzie’s experienced eye saw that the leather flying-helmet was stained black from dried blood. The pilot’s seat was empty, “so this may have been a student,” he thought out loud. 11
Officer Yazzie stepped back from the side of the aircraft to take stock, and then walked back to his battered panel. The hood was dented in and the windshield fractured; the lightbar was smashed and hanging down the right side of the vehicle. The passenger-side A-pilar was buckled. He shook his head in wonderment. It finally hit him, and he began to shake in delayed stress. He sat in the driver’s seat, resting his head on the wheel for a bit. Then he tried the ignition. The engine ground but wouldn’t catch. He thumbed the mike. “Yazzie to Tuba City Police dispatch. Yazzie to Tuba dispatch. Come in Ed. Over”12
“Blackhorse here, Gad. Over.”13
“I’m one mile east of Manuelito Ahiga’s hogan, eleven clicks south of Kaibeto, off route 20. There has been an airplane crash. Dead pilot. No passengers. This one is hinky. Best send the Lieutenant, and a tow truck. Over.”14
“A tow truck?”15
“For my panel. The plane hit it. Over”16
“You been drinking Gad?” 17
“You know better, Ed. Best notify the Coconino Sheriff and Medical Examiner too. Over”18
“I thought you just said it was an accident? Over”19
“The crash was, the murder wasn’t.”20
* * *21
It took half an hour for Navajo Police Lieutenant Jacob ‘LT’ Willow to drive up to the crash site from the Tuba City district station. The glider was plain to see. He pulled in beside Yazzie’s panel. “Yá'át'ééh Gad”, he greeted as he walked around the patrol vehicle, whistling at the damage. “Yá'át'ééh, Lieutenant,” the officer replied. 22
“No wonder Ed was worried you’d been drinking….. OK, tell me.” 23
“Maybe drunk would have been better than sober for this one, LT,” he joked awkwardly.24
They returned to the senior officer’s Suburban, and air-conditioning. Officer Yazzie related the events. Then the two of them got out and walked over to the crash. Willow stood looking it over for some minutes. He saw a damaged two-seat glider that had once been painted silver with yellow wings; now very faded. An equally faded serial number, and a blue/white/red USAAF insignia were painted on the fuselage. Finally he approached the cockpit, and stared down at the very dead pilot.25
“You sure no one got out while you were in the arroyo?”26
“Hundred percent certain, Lieutenant. I was watching the glider when it came to a stop, and the canopy was still latched when I got to it. No footprints in the dirt on that side of the plane either. No sir, there wasn’t anyone else in that glider when it came down. No cars around either.”27
“Ok, then. ….Well, someone shot this fella at close range. Don’t know when, don’t know where; but he’s on Navajo Nation land now, so he’s ours, at least for a while. I’m going to notify Criminal Investigations. Stay here and maintain the scene until I can get relief for you. The tow truck will be here soon. Keep any reporters or tourists away if they show up.” 28
As the lieutenant drove away Gad smiled when he saw Doli walking up the road. “Yá'át'ééh again, Gad. Heard a big noise, so I came to look once grandfather was asleep. What happened? Someone hurt? Can I go see?”29
“No, sorry Doli; lieutenant’s orders. But tell Sicheii that a big buzzard carrying a dead man landed on my panel.”30
She looked at him with affectionate concern, then at the Suburban, then at the wrecked glider. “You talk like a Bilagaana, Gad….” she scolded. “Need anything?”31
“No thanks. I’ll be relieved soon.” She turned and started walking back to the hogan. She looked back, twice, Gad noticed. “A man could do worse,” he thought to himself. He chewed on that thought for a while. Then he got some crime scene tape from the panel and marked off a rough circle around the glider. Until his relief arrived he examined the outside of the plane closely.32
****33
DAY 1: Afternoon34
Criminal Investigations Supervisor Michael Begay sat in his Tuba City office with visiting Window Rock District investigator, Al Tsosie. They were discussing the latest methamphetamine bust when Lieutenant Willow knocked on the frosted glass door and entered.35
“Yá'át'ééh” fellas.”36
“Hey, LT,” responded Tsosie for the two men.37
“What’s up?” asked Begay.38
Willow grabbed one of the office’s straight-backed wooden chairs and sat. “I gotta’ body for you.”39
“Dineh or tourist?”40
“Neither. Military pilot; but…” …he let it hang in the air.41
“OK, I’ll bite…. but what?”42
“This one was murdered, in his plane.” He shared with the two sceptical officers what he’d been told and observed. He ended with, “this glider belongs to the Air Force.”43
“Sounds like Twilight Zone to me. IF its Air Force, it isn’t C.I.’s jurisdiction at all, so…. I guess I’ll call Cowboy, and let him phone the FBI and AFOSI …L.T.… can I suggest you get a couple of tarps, and get that crash covered up before any photographers arrive?”44
“Good idea. I’ve got young Yazzie on site now. I’ll have his relief take some tarps out.” As officer Willow left the office to arrange for Yazzie’s relief, Begay reached for the phone and speed-dialled police headquarters at Window Rock. The Division of Public Safety’s Director, Samson Cowboy, answered on the fifth ring. 45
Fifteen minutes later he was on the phone himself, to the FBI office at Flagstaff, and the AFOSI office at Luke Air Force Base. Then he started working on a bland news release that would keep the media at bay until this was all sorted - he hoped. 46
* * *47
DAY 2: AM48
By 0900 the next morning an inter-agency team began assembling by the roadside on Navajo Route 20. A flight-weary, bleary-eyed Special Agent Tammy Rudd, forensic consultant for the Southwest Region, had flown in to the Tuba City Airport from Texas. AFOSI Special Agent Jeremy McDonald, working out of Luke AFB, had picked her up at the Grey Hills Inn. Both were dressed in regulation slacks and the black AFOSI T-shirts. He wore a Padres baseball cap, she a wide-brimmed gardening hat straight out of 'Steel Magnolias'. 49
With them was retired USAF Colonel Robert Bigaloe, a respected amateur historian of all things aviation in the Southwest, and a member of the Commemorative Air Force – Arizona Wing. He’d driven up overnight from Phoenix. The three of them stood talking with Navajo Police Officer Nathan Gonnie, who’d recently come on duty to guard the glider during the 7 to 3 shift. 50
A black Chevy Suburban pulled up, and two FBI agents emerged; looking like Mormon missionaries with their white shirts and black ties, black pants and dress shoes. “Special Agents Chambers and McElroy,” the older of the pair announced as they approached the group. Introductions were exchanged, and ‘turf’ silently staked out by competing egos and multiple jurisdictions. Officer Gonnie laughed internally at the five Bilagaanas playing senseless mind-games with each other. 51
Coming by panel down Route 20 from Kaibeto, Officer Yazzie pulled off the highway and joined the group. The FBI’s self-serving arrogance had never impressed him; nor had their heavy-handedness with his people, but he was professionally polite with them. With the Air Force people he was more open; they had no negative track record with The People. And, with his military experience, he understood their mindset a little better than he could that of the FBI agents.52
Last to arrive was Ben Watson from the Coconino County Medical Examiner’s office. He came in a plain white van in which he kept photo equipment, body bags, a gurney, and if needed, a biohazard suit. He would transport the corpse back to Flagstaff after the photos were taken. An older man, he scanned the group to select someone to help him. His choice went to Gad, whom he knew from attending road accidents, and the AFOSI agent from Luke AFB.53
“I’m here this morning to brief you on the crash,” Officer Yazzie said by way of introduction, “as I was present at the time. On orders from the Navajo Police office in Tuba City the site has been guarded, and camouflage tarpaulins were used to cover the wreck until you all arrived. If you will follow my panel I’ll lead you to the crash site.” Dutifully they all followed.54
When the caravan of five vehicles arrived at the scene, and everyone had reassembled, Officer Yazzie began his briefing: “At 1150 hours yesterday, after having attended to official police business at a nearby hogan, I stopped at this location to.…take a break…. Standing at the edge of this arroyo with my back to the road I heard a zone-tail calling a territorial challenge….”55
“A what?” asked Special Agent McElroy. Officer Gonnie stifled a laugh, and Yazzie managed to keep a straight face. “A zone-tailed hawk….” 56
“…..A Buteo Albonotatus. Arizona’s Zone-Tailed Hawk is large, and overall black with a tail stripe,” interjected the retired Colonel. “Obviously its territory had been invaded by something airborne, and it was protesting. Any Navajo child would have known that,” he ended with a dig at the gormless FBI agent.57
Maintaining his demeanour Yazzie continued his briefing. “I turned around to see what was upsetting the bird. Coming out of the southeast at very low level I saw an aircraft approaching. The hawk was attacking it. I had just enough time to throw myself backward into this arroyo when the glider struck the hood of my panel. The left wing ripped the light bar off the roof. I later found that the windshield and A-pilar were damaged, and the engine wouldn’t start.” 58
“After the aircraft bounced off the Suburban I rolled on to my belly and watched the last few seconds of its flight. It hit the mesquite on the other side of the arroyo and came to a quick stop. I immediately ran over to the airplane, thinking that it might catch fire, and I had to rescue any one onboard. I then realised that it was a glider. I climbed through the shrubbery and released the canopy. I found a dried-out corpse inside, dressed in a rotting uniform, and wearing second lieutenant’s bars. I observed dried bloodstains on the helmet and canopy. I observed no footprints leaving the scene. Closing the canopy I returned to my panel and called in to Tuba City station. Only myself, Lieutenant Willow, and relief officers Attson and Gonnea have been near the aircraft. My vehicle was towed away once my relief arrived with the tarpaulins. The road has been sealed off and there have been no tourists or news reporters at the scene.”59
“Thank you Officer Yazzie,” Special Agent Chambers said. “Shall we go inspect the crash site?”60
Officer Gonnea and Yazzie walked ahead and removed the tarpaulins.61
“Hot Damn!” exclaimed the Colonel. “I haven’t seen one of these since I visited the Air Force Museum in Dayton! Hot Damn an’a half!…Officer Yazzie, you got hit by a rare hawk indeed.”62
“Colonel?” queried Chambers, as they all gathered around the sailplane.63
The elderly Colonel was in his element, with a readymade, captive audience. He wasn’t going to hurry. “In World War Two, after the Nazi’s had demonstrated the effectiveness of glider-born troops against the French and British, General Hap Arnold of the US Army Air Force ordered the mass training of glider pilots. They used civilian instructors mostly, at civilian airfields, to teach the basics of gliding. Here in Arizona there was a glider Flight Academy at the old Wickenburg airfield. Because of a shortage of military trainers, they used a combination of readily available recreational soaring gliders and engineless light aircraft. 64
The training schools were a combination of civilian and military organization. A real 'country club' where all the staff and instructors were civilians, and the military trainees were released from the discipline of barracks life. Most students came from the Civilian Pilot Training Program as members of the Enlisted Reserve Corps. Others were transfers from the Aviation Cadet program where they'd had sixty hours of flight and ground school, similar to CPT. Some also came directly from the military ranks, and the smallest group were CAA private pilots. 65
Once their basic glider training was completed, the pilots went to advanced glider training in Ft. Bragg, North Carolina; South Plains Army Airfield at Lubbock, Texas; Victorville, California; Dalhart, Texas; or Stuttgart, Arkansas. There they started to fly the "real thing": the WACO CG-4A.”66
“So, Colonel,” Agent Rudd asked courteously, having seen the impatience in Agent Chamber’s body langauge, “what do we have here?”67
The Colonel walked up to a wingtip and stroked the damaged and faded fabric lovingly. “This is a Schweizer TG-3A Glider, manufactured by the Schweizer Aircraft Company for the Army Air Corps; which used it from 1942 to 1947. It is a dual trainer, instructor and pupil. I know that there is one awaiting restoration at the CAF hangers at Mesa. They’d love to get their hands on a second one, I’ll bet!”68
Special Agent Chambers was livid with consternation. “Are you seriously trying to tell us that a sixty-year-old glider has been flying around for all these years with a dead student and a missing instructor, and then lands here yesterday all by itself? Come off it Colonel!”69
“You are wrong,” Officer Yazzie said quietly and firmly. “Look, see; this glider has been somewhere else for many years. Here, in the ailerons, are sprigs of the Ponderosa pine. It does not grow near here. They have grown through, not been caught. There are more twigs scattered along the scar the glider made in the earth as it crashed. Smell the needles. Do you smell vanilla? That’s Ponderosa Pine. If AFOSI can match the pollens it can locate the area the twigs came from.”70
“I don’t believe it” Chambers said stubbornly.71
“Then look inside the cockpit. In the dust there are squirrel droppings, and pollen from many plants. Check also to see what kind of spiders have webs there. Agent Rudd knows the science for all these things. Match them and you will know where this glider sat, and for how long. It will be west of here.”72
“He’s absolutely right, Agent Chambers. The local mineral content and ph factors are taken up into the tree and reflected in the sap and needles. Once Jeremy and I have an opportunity to process the biological evidence we will be able to pinpoint the glider’s resting place within a few miles, I’m sure.”73
“That still leaves the missing instructor,” protested Chambers, “and how the glider got here now.”74
“The instructor will be easy to trace through AAF records,” the Colonel assured him. 75
“Once we get back to Tuba City I can make a single phone call and have the information here within hours. Then its up to you to follow the information trail,” Tammy said.76
Somewhat molified at the prospect of direct FBI involvement, and therefore PR, Special Agent Chambers asked Rudd, “How do you plan to proceed?”77
“Just like we would at any Air Force accident site, agent Chambers,” the Afro-American forensic specialist replied. “Officers?” she said to Connea and Yazzie, “would you please help Agent McDonald unload and set up his tent and equipment? There is also a shade shelter fly that you’all can sit under while Jeremy, Mr. Watson and I work on the aircraft. We have already arranged for an aircraft recovery vehicle to arrive later today to transport the glider back to the Tuba City Airstrip for examination.” As a sop, she said, “Agent Chambers, perhaps you should arrange for a hanger and security?”78
He wisely took the olive branch. “Consider it done.” 79
“Thank you.” Then she asked the two FBI men with saccarine tones, “Agents, would you assist me in removing the mequite bushes from around the aircraft?” She was from Atlanta, and could turn on some peachy charm when needed. 80
Work tent, tables, folding chairs, shelter fly, and equipment were set up as the broken brush was removed from around the glider. All in a day’s work for Rudd. The FBI agents were puffed from unfamiliar exertion. Ben Watson, being an old hand at this, had brought along an esky of soft drinks and a thermos of iced-coffee. By 1030 hours they were prepared to begin the serious work. Tammy and Jeremy put on gauze facemasks and latex gloves. Jeremy took Officer Yazzie’s fingerprints for exclusion, should Tammy find any usable prints.81
Shideezhi and one of Sicheii’s scrawny sheep dogs came walking up the dirt road then. Gonnea nudged Gad in the ribs and commented suggestively in Navajo, “Hey, here comes the big-breasted virgin.”82
“Shut yer trap, Machakw!” Gad growled. Gonnea darkened at the double entendre. Agent Rudd caught the exchange, and even though she didn’t understand the words, she understood Gad’s tone and stern look.83
“You friggin’ Rez Baptist,” the younger officer muttered under his breath as Gad walked to meet Doli.84
Gad did the introductions all round. Doli said, “I saw all the dust and figured you’d come to have a look see. May I stay, Gad?” 85
The Colonel had taken a seat in the shelter fly. “Sure, but why don’t you sit with Colonel Bigaloe over there. Only, remember that you can’t go telling anyone about what you see, until the police release the info to the Navajo Times and KTNN.”86
The tone of her response of “deal,” made him smile. Agent Rudd caught that also. Doli’s sheep dog wandered off into the underbrush to hunt for rabbits, as Gad led her over and introduced her to the retired colonel. 87
Officer Gonnea moved back to the intersection of Route 20 and Manuelito’s dirt road to keep any inquisitive Dimeh or tourists away. The two FBI agents preferred their air-conditioned Suburban to the shelter fly. Not realising that they were well out of range of the nearest tower, they tried to call the Flagstaff office on their cells. More frustrations.88
Tammy went to dust the canopy, instrument panel, the joy-sticks, empty seat, and the fabric alongside each seat for any prints. There was nothing, besides Yazzie’s on the canopy. Not that she’d expected any, given the condition of corpse and aircraft. As Yazzie had indicated, she took twigs and needles, pollen, scat and two spiders for examination. Then she allowed Ted to take his photographs, digital and film, of the corpse in-situ, as well as the entire aircraft and surrounds. 89
Jeremy made notes of the aircraft’s registration number, and the corpse’s dogtags. No flight recorder and ‘black box’ in this aircraft, for sure. The skin on the corpse’s fingers was too decayed to obtain any details. USAAF dental records would be matched against the corpse. The Medical Examiner’s autopsy should provide the actual cause of death; though the bullet hole in the student’s flying helmet probably made that a no-brainer. Tammy leaned into the cockpit and rummaged around carefully. Finding a logbook she dropped it into the evidence bag Jeremy held out for her. Nothing else in the cockpit immediately caught her experienced attention. 90
Jeremy and Ted spread out the body bag on a wing. Tammy and Jeremy painstakingly lifted the fragile mummy out of the cockpit, and with Ted’s help, placed it in the bag. Tammy then went over the seat and floor space underneath to retrieve any debris that had fallen from the corpse. These scraps of fabric and desiccated skin she placed in the body bag, and Jeremy zipped it shut. Ted had already spoken to Yazzie, so he came over to help Jeremy carry the body bag to the van. It wasn’t as heavy as Ted had expected, just brittle. 91
Once the body, and his equipment were secured, Ted drove back to Flagstaff. Tammy closed the canopy, and sealed it with evidence tape. The two FBI agents deigned to come out of their vehicle, and joined the AFOSI agents in the tent. The Colonel walked the few paces from the shelter to join them. Doli went to stand next to Gad.92
“What have you learned,” asked the lead agent.93
“The logbook and markings confirm that this is indeed a glider training aircraft out of Wickenburg Flight Academy. The corpse appears to be one Second Lieutenant Henderson, Daniel Morgan, USAAF. Probable cause of death is a gunshot wound to the head. There seems to be no exit wound, so the autopsy may recover the bullet.”94
“Secondly,” she continued, “the degree of mummification would seem to rule out a recent suicide or murder. Likewise, it would be reasonable to assume that the shooting occurred elsewhere. Lastly, the aircraft’s serial number and markings are consistent with USAAF usage during World War Two. The jurisdiction for the investigation into the death therefore lies with the AFOSI…” She caught the look of jealous hostility in both FBI agent’s eyes and tried to placate them…. “with continuing liaison with the Flagstaff FBI office….and the Navajo Nation Police district office in Tuba City.” 95
To make sure they understood, Tammy levelled the playing field by stating firmly, “I believe this was FBI Director Mueller’s express policy on interagency cooperation when he addressed National Congress of American Indians in 2003.” Reluctantly the two FBI agents had to agree.96
“The civilian instructor’s part in this, and his whereabouts is entirely the FBI’s baby. Jeremy and I would like to work out of the Criminal Investigations office at Tuba City. I also intend to ask their forensic team at Tuba City for backup. I am happy to utilise the services of the Coconino County Medical Examiner. Once the autopsy is completed the body will be handed over to the U.S. Air Force Mortuary Affairs team from Luke AFB, and any family notified.” She’d staked her claim.97
Standing in the background, and greatly amused by this test of wills between the non-Dimeh, and whispering to Gad in Navajo, Doli nicknamed her ‘Curly-haired woman who slaps their faces”. 98
Ending her assessment, Tammy spoke directly to Officer Yazzie, “I have requested an aircraft recovery crew and low-loader to remove the glider. They should arrive later today.” Officer Yazzie went to his panel and informed Gonnea about the transporter. After another quarter-hour of general planning the various agents returned to their vehicles and drove to the Tuba City police station. Gad lingered for a while to talk with Doli about Jonny, then drove back to the Kaibeto sub-station.99
****100
DAY 3: AM101
The wind off the Painted Desert was chill when Gad pulled onto the Tuba City municipal airfield the next morning. Once parked, he passed the unattended “Authorised Entry Only, by order FBI” sign, and walked into the hanger carrying a large manila envelope. He saw the dismantled glider sitting on sawhorses, fuselage on one pair, wings on another, tail section on a third, plastic sheeting underneath all. Next he saw Tammy and Jeremy sitting at a card table eating a Mickey’D’s breakfast. “That stuff’ll kill ya’. Here, these just arrived by fax from D.C. Lieutenant Willow said you might need them pronto. L.T. sent copies on to the FBI office in Flagstaff. He also asked if you’d OK it for me to be your Navajo Nation Police liaison.”102
Holding up her muffin she said, “Subway wasn’t open yet….Thanks for the fax. Yeah, sure, glad to have you, forensic liaison officer Yazzie.” 103
“Call me Gad,” he said with a warm smile, “All my people do.”104
“Gad, like one of the tribes of Israel?”105
“Huh? No. Gad is Dimeh for Juniper Tree. I loved to hide among juniper bushes when I was a littl’un. So Gad is a nickname, sorta.”106
Gad sat with them as Tammy opened the envelope. After reading a few lines she sighed “sheyat boys! You read this Gad?”107
“No Mam, came straight here.”108
Agent Rudd began reading the three sheets of retrieved World War Two documents aloud:109
__________________________________________________________________110
Confidential111
Headquarters US Army Air Forces112
Washington DC113
Important: This report will be compiled by each Army Air Force organisation within 48 hours of the time personnel are official reported missing.114
1. Organisation: Location: Wickenburg Flight Academy Command: AAF Glider School115
Group: ___________________ Squadron: _______________116
2. Specify: Point of Departure: 44E- Wickenburg Airfield 117
Course: NNW 118
Target: __________________ Type of Mission: Training flight119
3. Weather Conditions and Visibility at the time of the Crash or when last reported:120
Wind WSW @ 10-15 mph, broken cloud, visibility 12 miles.121
4. Give:a) Date: 27 July 1943 Time: 0930 Location: of last known whereabouts of the aircraft Alamo Lake 122
Specify whether:
(X) Last sighted 123
( ) Last contacted by radio124
( ) Reported down 125
( ) Seen to crash, or126
( ) Information not available.127
5. Aircraft was lost, or is believed to have been lost as a result of: (check only one)128
( ) enemy aircraft ( ) enemy anti-aircraft (X) other circumstances as follows: 129
Theft of the aircraft at gunpoint by the pupil.130
6. Aircraft: Type, Model & Series: Schweizer TG-3A Glider AAF Serial Number 48-51154131
7. Engines: Type, Model & Series: _______________AAF Serial Number(a) ______132
(b) ___________ (c) ____________ (d) ______________133
8. Installed weapons: (Furnish below make, type and serial numbers)134
a) ______________________________ (b) ________________________
c) ______________________________ d) _________________________135
e) _______________________________ f) ____________________________136
g) _______________________________ h) ____________________________137
i) _______________________________ j)___________________ 138
k) _______________________________139
9. Personnel listed below reported as: Battle Casualty ( ) Non-Battle Casualty (X)140
10. Number of persons aboard aircraft: Crew: Two Passengers: ___0____141
(Starting with “pilot” furnish the following particulars; if more than 12 persons were aboard list similar particulars on separate sheet and attach to this form)142
Name in full 143
Next of Kin, 144
relationship, 145
Crew Position (last name first) Rank Serial No name and address146
1. Flight Instructor Wingate, Robert David Civilian Instructor. Mrs. R.D. Wingate, wife, 147
103 Clark St, Wickenburg, Ariz. 148
2. Student pilot Henderson, Daniel Morgan 2lT33457211 149
Mrs. A.D. Henderson, mother 150
12 Pearsal Rd, Canton, Ohio151
3. __________________________________________________________________152
4. __________________________________________________________________153
5. __________________________________________________________________154
_____________________________________________________________155
Confidential156
USAAF BuPers form 6993a157
Incl: see over page158
WITNESS STATEMENT159
29 July, 1943160
At 0930 hours on 17 July, 1943 I was instructing Second Lieutenant D.M. Henderson in his 5th hour of glider pilot training. The student was a CPT trainee pilot, and had shown good skill on previous gliding flights. He did seem to be a very jumpy individual. On this date, once disconnected from the tow plane I instructed him to fly a WNW course toward the Buckskin Mountains. Near there we picked up a series of thermals that eventually drew us over the Alamo Lake area. The plan was then to do extended glides at altitude until we got back to Wickenburg. At this point the student began acting irrationally, became argumentative and then appeared to panic. I wrested control of the aircraft from him. When I turned back towards the Wickenburg airfield the student drew a pistol and demanded that I jump. Fearing for my life I bailed out as instructed, landing in the Alamo Dam area. I notified the academy as soon as possible, and caught a ride out to US 23, returning to the airfield last night.161
My last sight of the glider was at approximately 1030 hours on 27 July. The aircraft was headed in the general direction of Kingman, Arizona. I lost sight of it when I went to find a ranch house with a phone.162
Mr. R.D. Wingate163
Mr. Robert David Wingate 164
Civilian Instructor 165
USAAF Glider Training166
Wickenburg Flight Academy 167
Signed before me on: July 29, 1943168
Samuel Carson Drew, J.P. 169
Notary Public, Wickenburg, Arizona170
Maricopa County Sheriff's Office171
100 W. Washington 172
Phoenix, AZ 173
__________________________________________________________________174
August 7, 1943 175
Commanding Officer176
E44 Airfield177
Wickenburg Flight Academy178
Wickenburg, Arizona179
Dear Sir,180
In an attempt to locate your missing airman, Second Lieutenant D.M. Henderson, and/or the stolen Schweizer TG-3A Glider, AAF Serial Number 48-51154, this office has undertaken the following actions over the last ten days:181
1. All-points bulletins [APB] to all law enforcement agencies in Arizona, southern California, southern Utah, eastern New Mexico and southern Colorado.182
2. APB to all public and private airfields in Arizona, southern California, southern Utah, eastern New Mexico and southern Colorado.183
3. APB to the Union Pacific and bus lines serving Arizona.184
4. Notification to the FBI office in Phoenix, Arizona.185
5. Ground search patrols by members of the Mojave County Sheriff and Maricopa County Sheriff’s departments.186
To date we have received no confirmed sightings of the fugitive, or reports of a downed aircraft. On the basis of this negative result, and faced with our limited manpower resources, we will end our active ground search as of noon today.187
We will remain in liaison with the FBI on this matter.188
Respectfully yours,189
Clive S. Fuller190
Clive S. Fuller,191
Deputy Sheriff192
__________________________________________________________________193
“Well, whadda’ya think of that?” observed Jeremy. “Looks like suicide then.”194
“Mmm, maybe, maybe not” cautioned Tammy. “We don’t have the autopsy report, the gun, or a current police interview with the instructor.” 195
“If he’s still alive,” ventured Jeremy.196
“Lets wait to see what the evidence has to say.” Looking hopefully at Gad, Tammy asked “Would you like to help us work today, Gad, or do you have a patrol to run?”197
“No, I’m assigned to you two for a couple days, if you want. I can keep in touch with Lieutenant Willow on my panel radio. I drove down early from Kaibeto last night on the captain’s orders. I’m staying at a cousin’s.” 198
“Great. We were just going to cut off the fabric and see if we find any more clues.”199
“Mind if I look it over first, now that its out of the bush?’200
“Be our guest.”201
The AFOSI agents watched Gad with interest while they finished their breakfast. First he looked at the undersides of the wings, checking the fabric. Then he did the same with the fuselage and skid. The crumpled nose got special attention, as did the rudder. 202
“Whadda’ya think?” asked Jeremy.203
“The fabric damaged by the crash, and the hawk, have different wear patterns than old punctures and scrapes; easy to tell, the new are shinny, old are dull. Paint is more weathered on the upper surfaces. There’s rubbing on the under surfaces and ailerons from pine branches. The canopy is covered with bird droppings, dirt, pollens, pine needles, sap. The leading edges show heavy wear and much sap. The corpse looked to me like it dried under a closed canopy, ‘cause there were no sap or bird droppings on him, as I remember. Rats didn’t get to the body, either. Squirrels lived in the fuselage sometimes. So, this plane spent many years stuck high in pine trees.”204
“Why high up?” queried Jeremy. 205
“If it were lower down, there would have been more structural damage, much more bird droppings, more abrasions, maybe even a sapling starting in a crack or tear. Mature Ponderosas tend to have flat crowns. If it were lower down it would have been burned up in the fire, not set free. Ponderosa bark is fire resistant, but other tree species in the under-story usually aren’t.”206
“Fire? What fire?” asked Tammy.207
“Come, smell the tail and the rear of the fuselage. Forget the fresh mesquite and dirt smells. What is underneath them?”208
Jeremy and Tammy did as they were instructed, and worked their way around the rear of the glider like hounds on a scent.209
“Well?”210
“Smoke. Pine smoke” they chorused.211
“Now, look at the fabric here and here, and especially along here” he pointed. “This discolouration is not like the fading from the sun. High heat did this, and recently. It has not had time to weather again. And,” he concluded, “these smudges are from smoke, not the dirt from the crash site.”212
Though she had already noted most of this herself privately, Tammy was genuinely impressed. She asked, only partly in jest, “Would you like a job with the AFOSI?” 213
Gad dragged one boot heel across the cement floor in embarrassment at the praise. “Naw, I spent enough time away from home. Navajo policing is just fine with me.”214
“Well, I think you are a natural. Good work officer Yazzie. Jeremy, call the national forest headquarters in Phoenix and find out what and where there have been recent fires in ponderosa pine areas. And then call Colonel Bigaloe and ask him to run down some information on this Robert David Wingate fellow.” While Jeremy walked off to carry out that request, agent Rudd took a box-cutter and began cutting away the upper two thirds of the fuselage fabric. That done the aluminium tubing lay exposed, and the floor of the fuselage behind the cockpit was now accessible.215
Rudd and Gad looked into the open area. “Now we’re cookin’ honey-chil’,” she purred. Wedged in the tail cone was a .32 calibre Savage Arms pistol, model 1905. Reaching in a gloved hand she retrieved the gun from its lodgement. “I think we have the weapon; murder or suicide, this should be the one.” She dropped it into an evidence bag, sealed and notated it. The two of them continued to look, and eventually found an ejected cartridge case among the scat and dust. It was placed in another bag, sealed and notated. 216
“This sure isn’t Army issue,” she observed. “Can you run these over to your forensic people, please Gad. I want prints, and any ownership trace they can get. Use Wingate’s and Henderson’s names to start with, OK?”217
“Sure. Back later.” He signed the chain of custody form she presented and left. As he walked out to his panel, Jeremy came over to report on the phone calls.218
“I reached the Forest Coordination Center. They are currently fighting a wildfire in the Prescott National Forest. They said that the area is characterized by steep terrain, and large areas of limited or no access, with ponderosa pine stands, and mixed conifers, at the higher elevations. Then I called the Colonel. I gave him this number, and he will phone us back when he’s got something for us.”219
“So, consistent with our evidence, we have a possible area with ponderosa pines where the glider could have been snagged undetected for many years, and that it is currently experiencing a forest fire. That gives us a known takeoff point, the bailout point, a first crash site, and a known final crash site. We can also assume, for the moment, that the student pilot was probably dead at the initial crash site.”220
“But why wasn’t the glider visible, if, as Gad suggested, it sat at the top of some pines?”221
Agent Rudd pondered that for a moment, while she stared at the dismembered plane. “Think like a bird, Jeremy. What would you see?”222
Lots of silver and yellow shining up at me?”223
“No, not really. Look. The glider disappeared in the middle of World War Two. There wouldn’t have been the avgas or planes available for an intense search. After the war it would have been a forgotten incident. Then again, helicopters for forestry use wouldn’t have been plentiful until after the Korean War. After five or ten years of weathering, the glider would not have been all that visible, paint-wise. Also, the forest canopy would have grown some; and dust, dirt, and droppings would have increasingly obscured the plane. And, as you say, the Ponderosa sections of the Prescott National Forest are steep and largely inaccessible.224
“OK, OK, I get the picture. Unless you were actively looking for it, it was unlikely to be spotted. So, I guess we’re saying that it lodged near the crown of one or more Ponderosa pines, which then became entangled with the plane; until the very high hot winds generated by a wildfire blasted the glider loose, and sent it on its way.”225
“You got it.” 226
“Twilight Zone, like Chambers said.”227
The hanger phone rang, and Jeremy went to answer it. While he was talking, Tammy took digital photos of the heat and smoke tainted fabric. It was such a fantastic story that she would need to marshal all the facts in order to convince an investigation committee.228
“All right,” she thought out loud, “how and when did he die? The instructor says the student was alive and armed when he bailed out. If that is true, then the student committed suicide at some point before or after the crash. There were no apparent broken bones, so let’s assume a pre-crash death. Hm.” She walked over to the fuselage and looked into the cockpit, remembering the scene near the hogan. “Student in the right-hand seat. Bullet hole in the left side of the leather flying-helmet. Was he left-handed?” Rudd made mental notes to ask the Maricopa Medical Examiner for an opinion. 229
Jeremy hung up and walked over. “That was the Colonel. He got in touch with the Arizona chapter of the WW2 glider pilots’ association, and got some dope on Wingate. First, he was a great sailplane pilot. Secondly, he was a womaniser, married twice, and untold infidelities. His nickname was ‘the Buzzard’, cause he was always ready to swoop on anything in a skirt. The disappearance of Second Lieutenant Henderson was a three-day wonder; and then everyone got back to business. They had such a long backlog of pupils that they couldn’t waste time looking. Wingate continued to do flight instruction after the war, then worked ground school in semi-retirement. Last they knew he was retired and still living in or near Wickenburg. And, the Colonel’s contact said there had been a rumour at the time that Wingate had been chasing Henderson’s wife.”230
“Motive; Opportunity; and if the gun was his, Means. Type up what we’ve got, Jeremy, and I’ll have Gad fax it through to the FBI when he gets back.”231
***232
DAY 3: PM233
Gad returned, bringing some six-inch Subways, and a few cans of Dr. Pepper for their lunch; and a fax from the Medical Examiner in Flagstaff. “One beef, one salad, one chicken. Take your pick.”234
“Thanks, Gad,” an always-ravenous Jeremy said as he took a can of Dr. Pepper and the beef sub.235
“Its better than the trash you had for breakfast. Didn’t you guys see Double Size Me?”236
“Yeah,” replied Tammy, “but I like my grease fix sometimes too. Take what you want, and I’ll take whatever’s left, Gad.” He left her the chicken sub. As they sat down to eat Tammy read the coroner’s note to them.237
Agent Rudd,238
My tentative findings are:239
The subject died of a single gunshot to the left temple. I retrieved a .32 calibre soft lead bullet, much damaged. However, some rifling is still evident. NNP informs me that you have retrieved a pistol from the glider; and that they will send it down to me after they have run preliminary tests.240
The fatal shot was fired from point blank range, but the barrel was not in contact with the temple. The student pilot was wearing calfskin gloves, the leather of which is still reasonably intact. I found no GSR on either glove. I did however find a very degraded trace of GSR on his uniform. I suggest that you check the pupil’s seatback for any possible GSR. I believe that the integrity of the Canopy kept the GSR from decaying any further.241
I found no pre-mortem fractures. The multiple hairline fractures I did encounter were all post-mortem, with many clearly resulting from the final crash; as evidenced by the lack of weathering and the post-mortem tearing of the desiccated skin.242
I suggest that you inspect the cockpit for any signs of a struggle. I could not determine from the corpse if there had been any such attempt to wrest control as the original witness statement claimed.243
At this early stage I would suspect death at another’s hand while still airborne.244
I have sent a similar note to the Flagstaff FBI office.245
Regards,246
Dr. Peter Marsden247
Coconino County Chief Medical Examiner248
P.S. I found some notepaper in an outside pocket, and will have the Arizona State Police attempt to retrieve its contents. P.M.249
NNP fax received 1:13pm250
“Gee, for a doctor he almost has legible handwriting,” Jeremy comment when he looked at the fax. “So, which suggestion do you want to tackle first Tammy?”251
“I want to tackle my lunch break Jeremy”, she said bluntly through a mouthful of sub. Jeremy went back to eating, chastened. After a few chews and a swig of Dr. Pepper, Tammy asked, “Gad, what did you do before you joined the NNP?”252
“I went to Dime College and got an Associate’s degree in Cultural Anthropology, and then I joined the Army to get off the Rez for a while. I was a Tech Sgt in the 2nd Cav.” 253
“Where did you serve?”254
“Bosnia.”255
“Doin’ what?” Jeremy asked, his interest peaked. “I was in Germany then, doin’ my first tour with AFOSI. We had several cases referred to us from Bosnia.”256
“Chaplain’s Assistant.” 257
Jeremy choked on his sub. “How come that? Tammy asked.258
“It is a responsible duty, and I’m a practicing Christian.” 259
“You have’ta’ hold the Chaplain’s hand, and change their diapers in-country?” Jeremy asked derisively.260
Gad stared at Jeremy till the other lowered his gaze, then responded quietly, “The U.S. Army chaplains I knew were genuinely brave men, Jeremy. I could carry weapons and use them, which I have. They couldn’t. I could keep my butt down in a fire-fight, while they were going to other people’s aid. What does that tell you?”261
Tammy interjected to lower the testosterone levels. “Why did you join the NNP?”262
“I grew up in Window Rock. I have a few relatives in the force. It isn’t the kiss-
, Mickey Mouse outfit it used to be. We get real police academy training. It’s tough; fifty percent of our recruits drop out. I won’t dump the ‘victimised Indians’ guilt-trip on you, Tammy. Every racial minority in America gets a raw deal from whoever is top dog. You know that.” Tammy nodded, and Jeremy the WASP frowned. “But, yeah, I joined to help make sure that my people got honest and responsible policing, and to stand between them, the FBI and BIA, whenever I could ethically do so. ‘To protest and to serve the Navajo people’ means more than catching crooks, and busting Meth dealers. A safe society is necessary for nation-building….And, being a practical guy, and wanting a family someday, I needed a steady job with an adequate income.”263“That wouldn’t have anything to do with Doli would it, Gad?” a grinning Tammy asked with mischievous insight. Gad covered up his embarrassment by taking a swig of Dr. Pepper.264
Jeremy mended fences by suggesting that Gad stick around and watch Tammy check out the coroner’s suggestions. They cleaned up the lunch crumbs, and both agents repaid Gad, who had said they didn’t have to. “Expense account. Just give me the receipt,” she said. Then they walked over to the dismantled plane. 265
“First Gad, I want to see if there is any GSR on the student pilot’s seatback.” She took four swabs from different areas of the chair. Jeremy dipped them in the solution, and got a faint reaction from the fourth swab. It had been taken from a position behind where they estimated the student’s neck had been.266
“What does that suggest to you, Gad?”267
“That the weapon was held far enough away from the head to spray GSR past the head unhindered.” 268
“Jeremy?”269
“That suicides usually don’t hold guns away from their heads.’270
“Which leads us to suspect a struggle and accidental shooting,…. or…. murder.”271
Next she sprayed Luminal of the seat and inner fabric of the cockpit, seeking to identify any blowback pattern. With the years of dust it took several tries to get the faintest of blood-spatter outlines.272
“See anything?”273
“Yeah,” answered Jeremy. A lot of void. Someone was sitting in the pilot’s seat when the shot was fired. Most of the blowback would have hit them.”274
“That’s a second negative indicator against a suicide, and two indicators for either a struggle or a murder. Now, can we find anything that indicates, one way or another if there was a struggle? What would you look for Gad?” 275
“Broken or damaged instruments, or windscreens. Scratches or tears in the seat leather. Outward pointing tears in the fabric from boots kicking. Scratches on the instrument panel.” 276
She let him look; then asked Jeremy to do the same. After instructing the two men to compare impressions, and reach a joint conclusion, Tammy walked off to use the toilet. After her trip to the ladies’ she asked what they thought.277
Jeremy deferred to Gad. “No signs of an internal struggle. All breakage appears recent and is external in origin. If the pilot wrested control away from the student, he did it without the student resisting. It doesn’t seem logical.”278
“I think we need to call our friends at the Flagstaff FBI office,” Tammy concluded.279
* * *280
Special Agent Jim Robertson was the most junior member of the Flagstaff FBI office, so, naturally Chambers gave him the ‘go-fer’ tasks. Today was no exception. 281
“Here Jim, these are the faxes the AFOSI have sent us this morning. See what you can do to track down this retired instructor, Wingate.” He dropped the pile of faxes on Jim’s desk and walked back into his private office without acknowledging Robertson’s “Yes, sir.”282
First call: Department of Motor Vehicles. No Robert David Wingate currently licensed. Previous license last renewed July 1984. Last known address, Sun West Trailer Park, Wickenburg.283
Second call, White Pages: No current listing for a Mr. R.D. Wingate anywhere in Arizona.284
Third call: Maricopa County Records Office: Recorded message: ‘Please fax us your request on letterhead stationary, and we will reply at our earliest opportunity.’285
Break for lunch and fax priority request for Wingate, R.D.286
Fourth call: Wickenburg Police Station. Wait for their fax: ‘R.D. Wingate, trailer fire, December 14, 1986. Wife, fatality. Trailer destroyed. Possible arson. Mr. Wingate interviewed and subsequently released for lack of evidence. No current address listed.’287
Incoming Fax: Maricopa County Health – via Maricopa County Records: R.D. Wingate, aged 87, is a resident of Adult Care Services Aged-Hostel, 158 W Yavapai St, Wickenburg, AZ 85390 ph. 928-684-3616.288
“Gotcha!” Robertson walked over to Agent Chamber’s office and knocked.289
“Come.”290
Entering he said, “Sir, I’ve located Wingate.”291
“Well?” snapped Chambers.292
“He is alive, and a resident of an aged-care facility in Wickenburg. In 1986 he was interviewed in the suspicious death of his wife.” He placed his notes on Chamber’s desk. 293
He gave them a cursory look, and then thumbed his intercom. “McElroy, I want you to take Robertson and drive to Wickenburg to interview an asset. Jim has the details.” He handed the notes back to Robertson, who took it as a dismissal.294
The drive down would take just over three hours. For this they used the office Chevy sedan. Robertson drove, McElroy slept, that is, until his cell rang with more information from AFOSI.295
* *296
Arriving just before dinnertime the two FBI agents entered the lobby and walked up to the reception desk. Depressingly the lobby, though fitted out in pastel colours, Ikea-style furniture and a New Age water feature, still managed to smell of old-persons’ colognes, and perfumed disinfectants. Raised in a culture that denies ageing, and fears death, the two agents put on defensive masks of officialdom, rang the bell, and waited till someone came out of the inner office.297
A middle-aged woman with a badge that said ‘volunteer’ on it asked, “May I help you gentlemen?”298
Flashing his FBI ID, McElroy asked for Mr. Wingate.299
“You’ll need to talk with Mrs. Schneider, the hostel manager, please.” She pressed the speed-dial and spoke briefly. A moment later a matronly woman exited an office down the corridor and walked up to them.300
“I’m Elsie Schneider, the manager. How may I help you gentlemen?”301
McElroy explained, and Mrs. Schneider offered the use of her office, “so as not to disturb the other residents.” She led the two agents to her office; and left to get Mr. Wingate. She returned four minutes later pushing a wheelchair. “These gentlemen have come to speak with you, Mr. Wingate.” She closed the door as she left the room.302
Wingate was frail, but portly, his thinning white hair sat on a long, once handsome face that also reflected his lifelong attachment to alcohol. Now that face was etched with defiance, his eyes rheumy and hostile.303
“Robert David Wingate?” McElroy asked in his intimidating bass voice.304
“Always have been, cop. What’s it to ya’?”305
”FBI, Mr. Wingate, not cops. We’d like to talk to you about Lieutenant Henderson.”306
“Did you finally catch that nut-case? You throw him in prison for assault with a deadly weapon and stealing government property, I hope?” He eyed them questioningly.307
“Let’s just say I’ve recently met the gentleman,” replied McElroy evasively.308
“Oh? Where? And why did it take so long?”309
Ignoring the questions, Robertson asked “When did you see him last, Mr. Wingate?”310
“Why, in 1943, of course. Don’t you know the case? That nutter pushed me out of my airplane at the point of a gun. Last I saw of the loonie he was flying off into the sunset.... Not literally of course, but ya’ know what I mean.”311
“No,” replied Robertson, “what do you mean?”312
“Go read the report.”313
“We have.” McElroy had an edge to his voice, but it had no visible effect on the elderly man.314
“So why do ya’ wanna’ talk to me? I’m just a senile old widower livin’ out my last days in this stinking pit.” 315
“Took our bitterness pills today, did we?” Robertson mocked.316
“I’m 87 years old, sonny-boy. I got diabetes; I got no legs, got no family. Yeah, ain’t life grand.”317
“How did your wife die?” McElroy asked to change tack.318
“Which one? I had two.”319
“Both then,” McElroy adjusted his question.320
“First wife, Betty, died in a car crash in ‘47’. Suzzie died in a fire a few years ago. I bin here ever since. What’s that have to do with Henderson?”321
“Did you ever own a gun?”322
“This is Arizona, Mack, the real Old West. Wadda you think?”323
“Yes or No?”324
“Yes.”325
“What kind?”326
“Winchester Hi-Wall 45-70, for deer hunting.”327
“Anything else?”328
“Naw.”329
“How about a Savage .32 pistol?”330
“You mean like the one Henderson pulled on me?”331
“You’ve got a good memory for a senile old man, Wingate.”332
“A gun in your face you tend to remember.”333
“Unfortunately, Henderson can’t remember the gun pointed at his face.”334
“Wadda ya mean?”335
“You tell me, Wingate, you were there.”336
“What game are you two playin at? Listen, its my dinner time, and I gotta go.” He started to swing his wheel chair around to leave, when Richardson stopped him. He bent down and looked him in the eyes. Wingate flinched.337
“You killed Lieutenant Henderson because he was screwing your wife,” Richardson bluntly accused.338
Wingate stiffened, hate flowing out of his eyes, his face struggling with emotion. Finally he spat out, “Sure, I killed that piece of garbage. So wadda’ ya’ gonna’ do about it, Dick Tracey? You gonna’ put an 87 year old cripple in prison? I think not!”339
Richardson continued unfazed. “You set it up to look like a suicide. Then you bailed out, expecting the glider to crash nearby, or even in Alamo Lake. Well, it crashed alright….”340
McElroy bent over and took up the narrative in Wingate’s left ear. “It crashed in a secluded spot in the Prescott National Forest. And there it remained until two days ago.” He didn’t add all the bizarre details. “You murdered a serving military officer. The glider was found on Federal land. That makes it a federal case, not Arizona’s. Your age doesn’t matter to a federal judge. And, there is no statute of limitations on capital murder.”341
Wingate got a smirk on his face, and said, “Well, Mack, at least I’ll get outta’ here.”342
****343
DAY 5: Noon344
Colonel Bigaloe pulled up, with a flatbed truck following behind, the logo of the Commemorative Air Force - Arizona Wing, emblazoned on both doors. The truck backed up to the hanger doors and two men got out and followed the Colonel into the hanger.345
“Hi, Colonel!” Greeted Tammy, “Glad to see you. Let’s all sit down and have a natter. I’m waiting for Officer Yazzie to arrive.”346
“The three of us will take some coffee then, if there’s any brewing? Three long-blacks.”347
“Coming up,” said Jeremy as he walked into the hanger office to fill the request.348
The three men sat at the plastic picnic-style table with Agent Rudd. “This is Al Brentwood, and Steve Lane. They are members of the Commemorative Air Force, and fully qualified aircraft mechanics, thanks to 20 years each in the USAF.” Hand shakes and ‘glad ta meet ya’ all around. Jeremy arrived with a tray of five coffees just as Gad walked through the doors. He was carrying six Subways, and a six-pack of Dr. Pepper. Introductions all around again, and then lunch time.349
“Wrap it up for us please, Agent Rudd. What were the Coconino Medical Examiner’s finding?” requested the Colonel as they ate.350
“The FBI tracked Wingate down quickly. He was living in a nursing home in Wickenburg. Between the gun and GSR in the glider, and Wingate’s reputation, the FBI will have no difficulty proving that he murdered the lieutenant.”351
“Apparently,” interjected Officer Yazzie, “he boasted about it to the FBI; thinking that his age and disabilities mitigated against him facing charges.”352
“It was clear from the field craft that Officer Yazzie could bring to the investigation, that the glider really did get hung up in some Ponderosa pines in the Prescott National Forest for decades, and then blasted free by a wildfire last week. The hot air generated by the fire kept the aircraft aloft until it reached the Navajo Nation.” She nodded to Gad.353
“The Medical Examiner concluded that the student pilot died from a single .32 calibre gunshot wound to the head inflicted by another person. The slug matched the gun we recovered. There were no fingerprints, and the gun was unregistered. But then, the 1905 Savage was never a military issue weapon. He concluded that because it could not have been suicide, and that the shooting occurred in the aircraft, that it had to make Wingate the shooter. There was no evidence of pre-death injuries associated with the alleged struggle.”354
“Our findings were that no struggle took place, and that the blood splatter indicated that the shooter fired from the pilot’s seat,” concluded Agent Rudd. “Jeremy?”355
“Based on the dog tags and personnel records, AFOSI at Luke AFB was able to trace the lieutenant’s younger brother, now a 74 year old retired school teacher living in Missouri. The FBI has released the remains to the Air Force mortuary people, and the lieutenant will receive a full military funeral at a time and place of the brother’s choosing. Our report will go into AFOSI HQ asap, and today we go back to our respective bases. Case closed.”356
“Well, almost closed. That’s why you are here, Colonel. You sign these papers, and the glider belongs to the Commemorative Air Force. Where are you going to take it?”357
“Wickenburg municipal airport,” he said with a grin as he signed the proffered paperwork, in triplicate. 358
“Think of the publicity and tourist potential!” said an enthusiastic Steve Lane. “An Historic aircraft that flew out of the old airfield, a sensational murder, and a plot twist straight out of Twilight Zone! It will be great for Wickenburg.”359
Al Brentwood looked at Officer Yazzie, and asked, “Do you have any pictures of the damaged cop car?” 360
“NNP insurance photos, but not for publication. If you go down to the Texaco station you could take your own shots. It’s still there waiting repairs.”361
“I wonder what your insurer will say when they get the claim?” Al asked.362
Gad laughed, “I suspect the Captain won’t send it in until we get a copy of Agent Rudd’s report. They wouldn’t believe us.”363
“No, who would?” Tammy concluded.364
“Well,” prompted the Colonel, “let’s get her loaded on the trailer and be on our way.”365
**366
After loading the dismantled sections of the glider on the truck and tying them down well, the three aviation-history enthusiasts drove off for Wickenburg. Gad stood by his replacement NNP panel, as Tammy and Jeremy walked over to say goodbye.367
“Thanks for all your help. I really wish you’d think about applying for AFOSI.”368
“No thanks, I like it here.”369
“Well, all our equipment is packed and we’re ready to pull out. What now for you?", enquired Jeremy.370
“I suspect that he’s going to see a man about a girl,” suggested Agent Rudd.371
Gad laughed, shook hands, and got into his vehicle.... That was exactly what he had in mind.372
- END -373
James Gagiikwe374
© 2007375
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