Authors: Craig L. Seymour
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lovelle found a distraction from his growing marital problem by concentrating on foiling the bombing of the Murrah Federal building in Oklahoma City. The second anniversary of the Branch Davidian fire was approaching, so he knew the date of the attack was coming up. He was able to forget about nearly everything else and focus on his plans.
At first Lovelle thought that he might put Timothy McVeigh on the FBI’s radar pretty early on. He could do it pretty easily with an anonymous tip. If he gave them enough info on the plot, they would be able to unravel it well ahead of any danger. But, there were two problems with that plan. First, if McVeigh detected the government sniffing around he could alter his plans. After a while, the Feds would have to decide that Lovelle's tip was bogus. Eventually McVeigh would realize he was in the clear and strike somewhere else at some other time. Even more likely, the Feds would never take the tip seriously, Lovelle would have no idea, and he would find out only when the deed was done and it was too late to do anything about it.
He finally decided to wait until just a couple of weeks before the bombing. Not only would he be sure by then that there was plenty of evidence, but, as long as they took him seriously, there would also be a greater sense of urgency. His main job would be to figure out how to make sure they listened. But, since there would probably be no way to know, he would also implement his back up plan. Just for good measure, on the day of the bombing he would tip off security at the Murrah Building to be on the lookout for suspicious Ryder rental trucks.
*****
As with the September 11
th
attacks, Lovelle's memory of the details was pretty sketchy. Having lived in Michigan at the time he was well aware of the Michigan connection. McVeigh's coconspirator, Terry Nichols was a Michigan Native, and McVeigh had lived with him there for a time. That seemed like a good place to start.
Lovelle knew that they had lived in the thumb area of Michigan. Inspecting a map, his memory was jostled when he saw the city of Deckerville. For the first time, Lovelle got intimately involved in trying to stop a terrorist. He took a day off from work and drove several hours to visit the town where he believed Nichols had a farm.
As he drove into town he pulled into a convenience store on Deckerville Rd. He was wearing a set of well-worn fatigues that he'd purchased at a thrift store along with boots and a hat from an Army surplus shop. A day's worth of stubble and a pair of eyeglasses he did not need completed his disguise. He approached the counter where an older man sat reading a book. His stomach felt like he had just swallowed a big rock.
“Can I ask you a question. I'm looking for an old army buddy. I'm pretty sure he's got a farm around here.” Lovelle got right to the point. He asked about Terry Nichols, but, the man had never heard of him.
“Do you think maybe you could point me to someone else who might know?”
“Well, you could try down at the Veterinary Hospital. I'm pretty sure I know every farmer in town, but, if your buddy has any animals, then he'll pretty much have to do business with Doc Johnson.”
Lovelle got directions to the vet's office, thanked the man and went on his way. Doc Johnson turned out to be no more help. “I'm afraid Floyd's right. There's no Nichols farm in Deckerville.” The old veterinarian informed him.
Lovelle started back home disappointed. He had been so sure that he had heard the cities name before, and he didn't know why else he would have heard of it. It was back to the drawing board, or rather, back to the map. Then, as he drove along Deckerville road toward M53 he crossed Decker Rd. “Ohh!” he sighed. Pulling out the map he spotted the much smaller city of Decker, and headed that way.
He found a gas station in the small area that was designated on the map as the town. Again he went in to see the Clerk and spun his tale of being an old army buddy of Nichols.
“Sure, I know Terry. His brother has a place just up the road. I haven't seen Terry around in some time though. I suppose James will be able to tell you how to get a hold of him if you want. The man gave him directions and off he went.
Now came the tricky part. It was one thing to tell a stranger that he was a friend of Nichols. He wasn't particularly concerned that anyone would uncover his lie. Speaking to the man's brother was a different story. Initially he had only wanted to confirm Nichols' location so he could direct the feds to him when the time came. He had never intended to confront the man. But, if Nichols wasn't living there, he could only point them to the right location if he spoke to the man's brother. But, he didn't know how he could do that without resulting in the brother calling Nichols and telling him that his “buddy” was looking for him. That would certainly put Nichols on his guard. It might well convince him that someone was on to the bombing plot, or was at least fishing around. And that could lead the bombers to change their plans and foil his plot to foil their plot.
Lovelle decided he would have to regroup and come at this from another direction. He felt that he would have to approach the brother as stranger with some kind of believable interest in finding Nichols. He would have to be some kind of businessman or government representative, so even if he could come up with a plan on the fly, he would not be dressed for the part. So he headed for home.
*****
Two weeks later Lovelle showed up in his most lawyer like suit with some business cards printed just a day earlier. Terry Nichols' brother James answered his door. He was obviously a little surprised to see someone dressed that way at his farmhouse door.
“Can I help you?”
“I hope so, I'm looking for Terry Nichols. That wouldn't happen to be you?”
“No sir,” James answered, starting to look suspicious.
“Would he happen to be home?”
“No...Terry doesn't live here anymore. What's this about?” His suspicion was obvious now.
Lovelle handed the man his business card identifying him as a lawyer from a Detroit law firm. “Well, Mr. Nichols is listed as a possible witness to an accident. My firm is representing someone injured in that accident and we would like to talk to him about what he might have seen.”
The brother visibly relaxed. “Oh, well, he's living out of state now. I don't know if he's going to be much help. He never said anything to me about any accident”
“Well, no one has had a chance to talk to him yet. Another witness just told my firm that Mr. Nichols was around when the accident occurred. If he can testify to what we think he saw, I'm sure my firm would pay the expense to bring him to Michigan. Do you have an address where we can reach him?”
“Sure, I suppose that would be okay. Would you like to have a phone number so you can call him? That'd be quicker.” James volunteered.
“A phone number would be great too, but, we'll want to send him a written set of questions. Without being face to face, it carries more legal weight. We can spend some time drafting the questions and he can take his time answering them.” Lovelle not only wanted to make sure he got an address, but, he wanted to keep Nichols from getting suspicious if he didn't hear from a lawyer for a while. Lovelle was assuming that the brother would tell Nichols to be expecting a letter, but with only a few weeks before the bombing, he could just let it go.
*****
When the time finally came to act. Lovelle made an excuse to be away for a night and made his way back into the thumb area of Michigan. Lovelle thought it would add credibility to his call to make it from the area. When the feds dug into McVeigh’s past this would seem a logical place. Plus, it wouldn’t lead anyone to look at Lovelle as the tipster.
During the drive, Lovelle was mulling over his plan to avoid any trace of evidence that might lead back to him, when he had a thought. It was actually a little stroke of genius. He suddenly had an idea which could increase his chances of preventing the 9/11 attacks. It was an incredible opportunity, and he had almost failed to recognize it. From the moment McVeigh was caught, or even if he succeeded, Lovelle would become a completely credible tipster. Instead of making an anonymous call, all he needed to do was to establish an identity which was simultaneously recognizable and untraceable. Then he would be able to provide some future agent with that name and they could verify his credentials.
Lovelle located a phone inside a grocery store. Cell phones hadn't made them obsolete yet. There was enough activity to keep him from standing out, but, not so much as to interfere with his business. He waited for a couple of people to leave the area then picked up the phone. He snapped open a roll of quarters on the little table where the phone book sat; discreetly slipped on a latex glove and proceeded to feed the entire roll into the machine, watching to make sure that no one was observing him. He could clean the phone off after his call, but the quarters would be out of reach. He smiled as he thought,
Just a little paranoid, aren’t you?
He slipped the glove back off and into his pocket then proceeded to call the Detroit field office for the FBI. He asked for an agent and waited patiently for an answer. It seemed a long while before the phone was picked up, which was what he had expected, and why he had dumped so many coins into the phone.
“This is Special Agent Emile Rosewood.” A man’s voice finally came on.
“Thank you for taking my call Agent Rosewood.” Lovelle mimicked a southern accent as one more little precaution. “I’m going to make this brief. I’m on a pay phone and when my change runs out I don’t have any more.” he continued without pausing so Rosewood wouldn’t try to engage him in conversation until Lovelle was finished. “I have information about a bomb plot. Someone intends to retaliate for the fire at the Branch Davidian compound on the anniversary next week.” Lovelle proceeded to lay out everything he remembered. He gave him the names of both McVeigh and his accomplice Terry Nichols, and Nichols' current address. He talked about the Michigan Militia, Ammonium Nitrate, The Murrah building and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms office inside that building, and finally the Ryder truck.
Agent Rosewood let him finish then asked him who he was.
“You can call me Felix the Concerned Anti Terrorist.” As serious as this was, Lovelle couldn’t suppress a smile at his own cleverness. Felix the C.A.T. would not be forgotten.
“All right Felix. Can I ask you some questions?”
“Until the money runs out.” Lovelle replied.
“How did you come by all of this information?” Rosewood didn’t waste time.
“I can’t say. It wouldn’t be safe for me.” Lovelle expected that they would look at McVeigh’s associates for the informant. They would inevitably be doing that regardless of the outcome. As he finished his answer a recorded voice cut in and asked for more money.
“You can’t…” Rosewood started but Lovelle cut him off.
“Look, just check him out.” he said sharply. “If you can’t find enough to take him off the streets by the 19
th
then you get his picture down to security down there and don’t let him park a truck by that building.” There was no reply and he realized the call had cutoff. He had no idea how much of his final admonishment got through, not that it really mattered. He had given them everything they needed, or, at least everything that he could.
*****
Whatever Agent Rosewood did or did not hear, it was enough. On the morning of the 18
th
, one day before the bombing, McVeigh was arrested in Kansas with a truck full of fertilizer wired to explode. Lovelle saw the news report that evening and was elated. It was one of the greatest feelings Lovelle had ever had. He didn’t remember how many people were originally killed in that bombing, so he really didn’t know how many were saved. He only knew that it was a pretty big number, and he felt damn good about it. Having the arrest made public a day early even made it unnecessary to risk detection with his planned call to tip off security at the Murrah building.
Lovelle didn't exactly feel as if he were some kind of hero. There was no serious risk or sacrifice on his part. But, he did like to think that not everybody would have bothered, or could have figured out how to carry it off. He felt very good about himself that day.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lovelle’s self-satisfaction was short lived. With the whole Oklahoma affair now behind him, he was once more preoccupied by his marital troubles. Within a couple of months he was like a teapot on the verge of boiling. Just a couple more degrees and he would be screaming. Lisa could tell something was bothering him, and asked him about it on numerous occasions. But, by then Lovelle was completely determined not to confront her. He believed that the time for dealing with the issue properly was long past. He realized that it was his own fault, and was again determined to just deal with it.
Mistakenly, he looked at this as an act of benevolence, as if he were acting to spare her. But, in reality, it was a terribly selfish act. Rather than raise the issue in hopes of resolving it, and taking his due lumps for keeping something this important from her in the first place, he instead forced her to share in his misery. Lisa not only had to live with a sometimes insufferable grump, but, had to watch the man she loved sink into a self-imposed state of depression. And she had to do all this without the slightest idea why.
Then Lovelle did something he had been avoiding since the beginning of his troubles. He had believed it would be a mistake. And, mistake or not, it certainly did change things from then on. One day, while he was feeling particularly irritated by some exchange with Lisa, he got a call from Katie.
Usually, when he spoke to Katie his mood was good. When it wasn’t, she could always turn it that way. Lovelle called her his ‘cheerful friend’. They never called each other unless they were happy themselves, and they had a way of spreading that happiness to each other. But, on this particular day things moved in the opposite direction. His foul mood started bringing her down almost immediately. But, like any good friend, she decided she should try to make him feel better. “What’s the matter Curtis?”
In either of his two lives there had only been a few people who he had ever confided in, and even fewer who could really help him work through his problems. In his first life Katie was hands down the best at this, even before they were married. She knew him so well she just seemed to know what he needed. But, in this life he had never given her the opportunity. Lovelle had questioned not only whether it would be appropriate for him to talk to her about such things, but also whether she would even want to help him if she could.
In his dour mood, he went against his better judgment and unburdened himself. They talked that afternoon for nearly two hours. He bared his soul to her, laying all his pettiness out on the table. She, in turn, told him in her gentle way to ‘get over it’. He expected she would advise him to confess to Lisa. She did not.
“Why bother. Just stop worrying about it. You said you don’t really want to handle the money and you don’t even like to call people to make plans. If you’re not careful you’re going to end up with a couple of jobs you don’t want. What are you worried about? I can’t believe you’re that insecure.” Kate let him have it, albeit nicely, “As long as she makes good decisions why should you care? If she makes a bad one, deal with
that
. You don’t want to be in charge all the time. That’s just work. When it’s really important to you, then put your foot down.”
She was, of course, right. What she was saying was simple and logical. Lovelle was embarrassed to have it pointed out to him. For him, it wasn’t the first time Katie had set him straight like that. But, as far as she knew, it was, and it was the beginning of a new phase in their relationship. In no time Katie transitioned seamlessly into his new Trina.
It was an ironic turn of events. He had spent much of this life worrying about whether Trina could, or should, become the new Katie. Instead, things went the opposite direction, and he never saw it coming. Arguably, he should have. As soon as he lost Katie as a romantic partner yet kept her as a friend, it was a reasonable expectation that their friendship would blossom. After all, he had always bragged to people that she was not only his wife, but was his best friend. The very reason he had always been so concerned about risking a romance with Trina was that their relationship was so similar to his marriage to Katie, minus the romance.
For Lovelle, at least at first, this was a wonderful change in his life. He stopped brooding over his troubles with his wife, which was nice for Lisa as well. And he once again had a best friend who he could really talk to. His life had so diverged from the past that he could now be quite open with his friend without fear of divulging his secret. For a time, Lovelle felt like he had it all. He was in a state of blissful ignorance. Ignorance of the problem he had stirred up.
It wasn’t long before Lisa decided that she had a problem with his new closeness with Katie. And who could blame her? Oblivious to Lisa’s concerns, Lovelle made no attempt to conceal the time he was spending with Katie. What Lisa saw was her husband simultaneously snapped out of his funk, and spending lots of time with a woman whom he had already admitted his feelings for. Lisa put two and two together and decided he was having an affair, and probably not just a fling, but a real love affair.
She was wrong, of course. Lovelle may not have been the ideal husband. He had his fair share of failings. But, he was no cheater. And neither was Katie. But, if he had stepped back from the situation, he would have seen how it was sure to look to his wife. Spending that much time with another woman was not really appropriate for a married man.
If Lisa had confronted Lovelle he would have understood her suspicion. He would have acknowledged her right to be upset about the amount of time he was spending with Katie. If the shoe were on the other foot, he would have felt the same. But, she never confronted him. And he couldn’t even have condemned her for that. He was not exactly the poster child for facing problems head on. That would be like living in a glass house and whipping stones around. But, unlike Lovelle, she didn’t simply stew in her suspicions. She had him tried and convicted without any chance to utter a word in his own defense. He wasn't afforded a benefit of the doubt.
Lisa decided that, without a word to him, she could not only be the judge and jury, but also the executioner. Lisa decided to have an affair of her own. A little tit for tat. An evening of the score that she had no intention of ever telling him about. But, she miscalculated and Lovelle found out. She thought she knew where Trina’s loyalty lay, but she was wrong. Trina may have been spending more time with her, but her bond with Lovelle was latent, not broken. So when Lisa decided to confide in her what she suspected about Lovelle and Katie, and what she herself had done in retaliation, Trina made a lunch date with him on the next day.
At the restaurant, he sat down across from her and she looked him dead in the eyes. Her face wore a stern expression. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her look that way. “Don’t bother lying to me,” she started and Lovelle was taken aback by her accusatory tone. “Are you sleeping with Katie?” she dropped the bomb on him.
“No!” he shot back, surprised and angry. “What the hell is that?” he nearly shouted.
“Sshhh,” she motioned with her hand for him to tone it down. “I had to ask.” She said rather quietly as if she were trying to set the volume of their conversation. Trina explained the situation as Lovelle moved from hurt to dumbfounded to fiery mad in just a few minutes.
That was the end of his marriage. Lovelle could forgive a lot, but not that. It wasn’t just the affair. It was how she had misjudged him. He felt that if he had proven anything in his life, he had proven his loyalty. She didn’t get that, and he couldn’t be bothered with her any more. He left her that very night.
A few weeks later she called, sounding inpatient with him for not calling her, “Are we going to try and talk this thing through?”
“There isn’t anything to talk through. I’m done with you.” He stated matter-of-factly.
“Come on, I love you. We have to get past this.” She pleaded, the impatience gone.
“No. I’m not interested in getting past it. I just need to get past you.”
“Don’t say that. I’m so sorry. I… I love you.” She was openly crying now.
Lovelle was generally a big sucker for female tears. But in this case he was glad to hear her suffer. He told her so. “I’m glad you love me. Maybe it’ll hurt to lose me.”
“Come on. I know you love me too. Don’t do this to us.”
“I don’t know if I love you. I just can’t get past the loathing to figure that out. If I do, I’m sure I’ll get over it. I’ve gotten over better women than you.” He quipped. “There is no us anymore. I don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t care how sorry you are. I don’t have any forgiveness for you.”
*****
Two years and two months after it began, Lovelle’s marriage ended. His 43 years of maturity probably should have allowed him to take his divorce in stride and move on in a dignified manner. But that isn’t exactly what happened. Instead, it began a regression in his life.
Lovelle did what lots of 27 year olds do when they find themselves with extra time and a chip on their shoulder. He drank a lot and generally acted irresponsibly. He started off just bar hopping, but quickly began to enjoy the company of the opposite sex. For the first time since he had arrived in this life he really let himself go. Up to that point he always had some goal that proscribed taking advantage of his youth, or his foreknowledge. He was always concerned with how his actions might affect his future with Katie, or his plans to forestall the September 11 attacks. But, in the wake of his failed marriage, none of that mattered to him.
He had a series of insignificant flings, even dating more than one lady at a time. At the same time he started getting drunk almost nightly, and began to gamble fairly heavily. He had been laying occasional bets where he was sure of the outcome for years, but, he was pretty sure of the results of a lot more sporting events and he started winning very regularly. After a while he realized he was playing with fire, and so he peppered in enough losing bets to keep his bookies from getting too suspicious. But, that meant that he really couldn’t see much of a profit, and that led to a little junket.
Two days after Christmas of 1997 Lovelle and his current girlfriend jetted off to Las Vegas. They had decided to brave the craziness of the Strip on New Year’s Eve. Rebecca, the last woman standing after Lovelle had decided he didn’t want to try to juggle relationships, had turned out to be a pretty good companion. Although they weren’t officially exclusive, Lovelle wasn’t seeing anyone else, and he was pretty confident that she wasn’t either.
Although he wasn’t about to tell Rebecca, the real reason Lovelle wanted to be in Vegas at that particular moment lie in the casino’s sports books. It was college football bowl season, and he knew the outcomes of a few games. Lovelle was hardly one of those guys who are an encyclopedia of sports facts. He had never been fanatical about watching every game and he didn’t have a particularly good memory for scores and outcomes. He followed a few teams closely and kept a general watch on what else was going on. But you didn’t need to know a lot to cash in, and there were a few sure bets. He knew that this was the year that Michigan and Nebraska were going to have to contentiously share the national title, so betting on them in their respective bowls was a sure thing, He also happened to remember a particularly good Alamo Bowl with the future NFL star Drew Brees leading Purdue to a last second win. And he unfortunately remembered his favorite Michigan State Spartans losing in the Aloha Bowl.
Before he and Rebecca had left town he’d cashed in twenty-five thousand dollars in Microsoft stock, another of his ‘educated’ investments, to lay bets. During their visit he placed bets in virtually every Casino they stepped foot in. At first Rebecca said nothing, only rolling her eyes when he excused himself to visit the sports book. Finally she just asked him what his obsession was.
“Why do you have to go into every one? Are you afraid you’re gonna miss some great game?” She didn’t actually think that was the reason but she couldn’t come up with a better guess.
“No, I’m placing bets.” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to collect your winnings where we’re staying? Couldn’t you make all your bets at Caesar’s? ”
“Not as much as I want to bet.” he stated, adopting a false snobby tone.
“Well!” She reacted. “I didn’t know they had limits Mr. High Roller.”
He chuckled, “They do if you don’t want to pay taxes on your winnings.”
“Ooh! Okay. And you’re that confidant that you’re going to win?” She asked skeptically.
“I feel pretty good,” he nodded and smiled broadly. She just shook her head and went on playing her video poker.