by Jeff Nania
“John, we will search and inventory this room first. We will keep you posted on anything we find. It is critical that we search for any physical evidence that may help us identify the Wolf. We can’t screw this up. We will go as fast as we can but by the book.”
“I know, I get it. Do whatever you need to do. I want to get this bastard.”
“We all do. That’s why we are doing it by the book.”
The sheriff’s dispatch put out a call, “All units, standby for emergency traffic. All units, the suspect was last seen headed south on River Road in a red Subaru Outback bearing Wisconsin plate 575 Edward Zebra Frank. Repeat, a red Subaru Outback, Wisconsin registration 575 EZF last seen southbound on River Road. This has occurred within the last twenty-five minutes. Subject operating that vehicle is armed and dangerous and is wanted for a shooting involving three law enforcement officers.”
Wisconsin State Patrol immediately responded on the emergency channel. “This is Sergeant Kruger of the State Patrol. I have requested a helicopter and airplane to aid in the search for the suspect. They are already in the air. They are monitoring the emergency network and copied the 10-43 about the red Subaru Outback. In addition, I have requested all available mobile units. Let us know where you need us to set up roadblocks. Until then, we will continue to search the area.”
“Ten-four, Sergeant Kruger. We will advise when we can. Keep us posted on the number of units you have coming our way and their locations,” dispatch responded.
“Ten-four,” Kruger replied.
My phone rang again. “John, it’s Len. Leave Delzell in charge of the scene, jump in the Suburban, and come get us. Take a right out of Stone’s driveway. At the next road, go right. You will cross a small bridge. Stay to the left and follow it to the end. We are at a small red house at the end of the road. The fire number is N4271.”
“On my way,” I replied.
A deputy met me in the driveway at the red house. “Mr. Cabrelli, the chief is rendering first aid to folks inside. They are both in their eighties. This son of a bitch smashed in the front door. The guy and his wife were having some coffee and watching the morning news. He demanded the keys to their car. The old man resisted and the bastard walked over and slugged his wife in the face. He said to give him the keys or he would kill her. No choice. He gave up his keys. Before he left, he locked them in the basement. We heard them yelling when we approached the house. The woman is going to be okay, but she will need stitches. One of the mutual aid ambulances from Round Lake is on the way to transport her.”
The chief and the other deputy came out. The couple assured them that they would be fine until the ambulance came. The old fellow said as they walked from the door, “Don’t waste any more time on us. Go get that guy before he hurts someone else, because he will. I saw the look on his face. He will.”
I offered to let the chief drive. “If you don’t mind, John, please stay at the wheel. I know there are pressing matters, but before we do one more thing, I need to call my wife. She’ll be listening to the scanner and will be worried sick.”
It was unheard but easy to imagine the other side of the conversation when he called his partner of over thirty years. “Martha, I want you to know that I am okay … nope not a scratch…. He got away but we’ll get him. I am going to stay wherever we set up the major crimes headquarters for as long as I need to be there. Honey, I need a favor. Jim Rawsom was badly wounded, and he has been flown to the Superior hospital. His family has got some tough sledding ahead of them. Could you … you’re the best, Martha. I’ll be home soon … I love you, too.” The chief disconnected.
“John, I’m gonna tell the sheriff’s dispatch to keep the cars combing the area where he was last seen to keep the pressure on. We need to reconvene in the sheriff’s office situation room to get some control of this thing. I’m sure there are squad cars, cops, and reporters swarming the place. We have to get this thing in hand as much as possible,” he said.
There’s a fine line between everyone working together and a total cluster. I doubted Len Bork had ever faced such a situation in his career, much less in his short tenure as interim chief. The guy had a lot of backbone and had been a cop a long time; but he would never be tested like he was today.
It was clear the word was out as we arrived back in Musky Falls. Squads from neighboring counties and towns as well as the tribal police and conservation wardens were in the parking lot. Only one news van, the ABC affiliate in Superior, was readily visible. That would quickly change. Instead of telling me to pull in, Len told me to bypass the city department and go to the sheriff’s command center office.
“Park right out front of these double doors, John,” he directed.
As we walked in, Len was immediately surrounded by several sheriff’s department civilian staff.
“What happened with Jim?” one asked.
“Is he alive?” another inquired. The questions started coming fast and furious as the staff unleashed their pent-up anxiety.
“Everybody, sit down. I will tell you what I know.” The chief’s soothing tone calmed them, and they sat quickly. The situation room was spartan, designed for efficiency, not comfort.
“Jim was shot three times. The wounds are severe, and he was taken by helicopter to the Superior Medical Center. He was unconscious but breathing on his own. He and his family will need your prayers, and I need your help. As I get further reports, I will let you know. Deputy Holmes sustained a grazing head wound. Reports are that other than a hell of a headache, he is doing fine. Lieutenant Malone from the Organized Crime Task Force was also wounded, taking a hit in the shoulder. An unidentified civilian was pronounced dead at the scene.
“Now we need to talk. I have been around a long time and know all of you. I have never been in such a situation, and I doubt any of you have, but here we are. There are going to be all sorts of people that are going to think this small-town law enforcement is in way over their heads here, and they may be right. They are going to have lots of advice. Things are going to be flying around at a hundred miles an hour. We need to keep our eye on the ball. There is a bad man out there somewhere, and we need to catch him. Everything else is on the backburner. Any questions? Ask them now.”
No one said anything until a middle-aged woman piped up, “Tell us what to do.”
Len turned to the emergency communication center operator. “Lois, are all regular calls for service now being routed through the PD for both city and county?”
“Yes, Chief. We switched over to emergency protocol.”
“How many on general patrol for the city?”
“Two, and two for the county as well.”
“Those units are to stay free to take any other calls that come in. Make sure they are switched over to the city dispatch, and that all calls and business are routed to the city.”
“Already done, Chief.”
“Thanks, Lois. Get on the radio and ask all the units not currently out searching the county to report here to the command center. I will meet them out front at the double doors.”
The PA system echoed Lois’s command, “All units not currently involved in search efforts please report to the sheriff’s emergency command center. Any units out in the county continue to attempt to locate the red Subaru 575 EZF driven by the suspect.”
“Chief, do we have a photo of this guy?” asked Lois.
“Yes, we do have a picture. John, do you have one of the printed pictures?”
“Here in my pack,” I replied.
I gave Lois the photo, and she barked at one of the others to prepare the image for immediate transmission.
“While you are at it, put together something for the media. Call all the TV and radio stations and tell them to expect an emergency message from us. The more eyes we have looking, the better our chances. Time is critical. Get moving on this,” ordered Bork.
I followed the chief out the front door to meet the growing group of lawmen and women. The murmur from the crowd was silence
d as Chief Bork approached.
“Here is the situation. During the attempted apprehension of a wanted man, we encountered armed resistance. One civilian was killed, and three law officers were wounded. The suspect is armed with an AR-15 and a handgun. He took a red Subaru Outback from an elderly couple by force and was last seen heading south on River Road.
“We currently have two aircraft from the State Patrol in the air coordinating search efforts with all available ground units. Sergeant Kruger is working with dispatch directing his units as well as ours to strategic locations for roadblocks. They are moving as quickly as possible. He may already be out of the area, but I’ve got a feeling he’s not. Every law enforcement officer in this state and beyond is now looking for this guy and the red Subaru. He’s a pro and he will do everything he can to improve his chances.
“I want every car, truck, or bicycle trying to leave the area stopped and the driver and passengers identified. With the normal traffic, this might slow things up enough to keep our guy fenced in. He knows what he is doing and might have already switched vehicles or taken a ride with someone by force. All communications except car to car is on the emergency channel.
“Most of you need to hit the road. Search every nook and cranny of this county. Don’t worry about crossing paths with another patrol car; just keep searching. On your car computers you will have a photo and general physical description of the suspect as well as the last vehicle he was driving. I need at least two rapid response units, two to a car, to stay here.” Men and women anxious to get in the hunt grumbled. “I know sitting on your backside is the last thing you want, but this is about as central as any place, and we need to cover that base. Any volunteers?” Two county deputies and two tribal officers reluctantly stepped up.
“Now all the rest of you get out there.” They were in their units and gone in a blink.
“John, did you happen to notice what station that news van belonged to?” the chief inquired.
“ABC Superior.”
The chief went inside and directed Lois to have someone call the station and get the news van over to the emergency command post.
It didn’t take them long. They set up the camera for a remote broadcast, and Chief Bork went live appealing to the public for help in finding the fugitive. Pictures of the Wolf, now known as Dimitri Volkinov, flashed up as well as an image of a red Subaru Outback same year as the one stolen. The chief gave out the phone number for the command center and advised that people were standing by to take the calls. He also encouraged anyone who had information to call 911.
Within two hours, the parking lot was filled with news trucks with antennas sent skyward and well-dressed reporters chasing their tails followed by camera crews.
Red Subaru Outbacks are not an uncommon vehicle in northern Wisconsin, and several honest citizens were stopped and checked out. Once they were advised of the reason for the stop, none complained. By early afternoon, the Department of Criminal Investigation had arrived in force. Instead of taking over for the chief, they had been ordered by the wounded Malone to work at the chief’s direction.
He sent them to interview David Stone. They returned within the hour. Stone had nothing to say and demanded a lawyer. Other agents talked with the security guards; none knew anything of the Wolf. They were employed by Professional Security Solutions and assigned to the Stone residence. They had no real interaction with residents. A records check showed no wants or warrants or serious criminal histories. The weapons they had did not come back as stolen. The guards were completely cooperative. After making contact with the security company and ascertaining that their assigned security personnel had permanent addresses, the district attorney determined that they likely would be released in the morning. The security company had engaged a lawyer to represent them and secure their release, and chances were pretty good the judge would grant it.
23
The clock ticked and time passed without further word on the suspect. The alert had been broadcast statewide and to bordering states. Nothing. At one point a car tried to run the troopers’ roadblock. That was a mistake. Two penny-ante meth dealers found themselves facedown the hard way and shipped to the jail. The adrenaline release that follows the constant action set in like a cloud. We monitored all radio traffic. The cars out there needed little direction.
Hospital reports were that Malone and Holmes were stable. Jim Rawsom survived surgery but had not yet regained consciousness. The female victim had been identified as Brandy Lynn Perkins, age twenty-three, from Milwaukee. Her next of kin had been notified by the coroner’s office working in conjunction with Masters’ team.
Stress, strain, and fatigue were showing in all our faces. Even the voices of the troops coming over the radio sounded tired. They would continue to search until they were dead on their feet, but time was the enemy. Volkinov could be in Chicago or Minneapolis by now. The endless coffee cups and boxes from carryout food had accumulated. The energy of the chase dissipated, and the sadness of potential loss started to sink in.
Then through the emergency center door burst Ron Carver, dragging with him a small framed stoop-shouldered man. He wore round glasses. One of the lenses was broken. It looked like the man had been on the bad end of a fistfight. Carver couldn’t have looked happier.
“Johnny Boy, Len, I heard what went down. I would have been here sooner, but I kinda got tied up. Anyway, I brought you this little slime bag as a present,” Ron declared.
“Ron, what the heck is going on? Who is this guy? Wait … I know him. Edwin, ah … Edwin Milton. He goes to my church. What’s going on?” asked the chief, clearly confused by this new event.
“Well boys, you told me to look for someone in the community that might be connected to these shitbirds. I was wracking my brain and then I remembered something. Edwin had come into the store and bought some pretty high-end, flashy jewelry and paid cash. A couple of weeks later, I ran into him and his wife at the Market Basket, and I remember thinking I bet that jewelry wasn’t for her. I mean she’s gotta outweigh him by a hundred pounds. Anyway, I sold him a couple of rings, and they were sized for fingers a whole lot smaller than hers. Well, I did some expert detective work and found out that Edwin has got a sweetie on the side. She is one of the dancers at the Lumberjack Saloon. Keeping her is mighty expensive, isn’t it, Edwin, you little worm?”
Edwin said nothing.
“I called Jack Wheeler, and he was able to pull up Edwin’s tax returns. He doesn’t do too bad, but there is not enough left after his mortgage, car payment, and credit card bills to be buying fancy jewelry. Oh, did I mention that Edwin is the inspector assigned to Superior Shipping and Container? He happens to be the guy that signs off on all shipments coming in and going out. He is also the guy who is supposed to deal with violations. Turns out that he is paid big bucks under the table to make sure that all the shipments go through without question. That’s why these guys have no record of any violations. Edwin makes sure of that.”
“Is what he’s saying true, Edwin?” Len asked.
Edwin stood still, his head hanging down, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone.
Len Bork is one of the most even-tempered guys I have ever met, but stress had taken its toll. He lashed out and grabbed Edwin Milton by the shirt, lifting until they were face to face.
“Answer me, and answer me now, Edwin.”
“Yes. What he says is true.”
“How long?”
“I was there when the new owners took over. I’ve been helping them with red tape for the last few years.”
“What does that mean, ‘helping them with red tape’?” the chief asked.
“Government forms are complicated. I gave them extra help to make sure things were done right,” he answered.
“Bull pucky!” the chief shouted. “I got three cops shot and a woman murdered, and you want me to play games with you? You are out of your ever-loving mind, Edwin. What’s the girl’s name from the Lumberjack Saloon?”
; “No, no. She is so sweet. She has nothing to do with this. Leave her out of this,” Edwin whined.
“The name, Edwin. Right now! What is her name?”
“I won’t say, and you can’t make me. I have rights, you know,” Edwin challenged.
“Fine,” said the chief who then called two officers from the response team over. “You guys get out to Green Acres Lane and pick up Edwin’s wife, Nedra, and bring her in. We’ll see what she knows.”
That set up a howl from Edwin, “No, don’t bring Nedra in. Oh, my God! No! Wait, let me think.”
“Thinkin’ time is over. Go get her, guys, and bring her in,” the chief ordered. “Let’s also send the second response team over to the Lumberjack and see if someone can point out Edwin’s girlfriend. Talk to the girls. They can be pretty closed-mouthed. Tell them this is about a murder investigation, and if they don’t cooperate, they are going to be charged as parties to the crime.”
Another moan came from Edwin Milton, “No! Please stop! Don’t bring Nedra here. Oh, my Lord. I will tell you everything.” The man may not have been intimidated by the chief, but he was downright terrified of his wife.
Once the recording started, Edwin Milton was advised of his constitutional rights. Department of Criminal Investigation agents were asked to sit in. Edwin had clearly been roughed up, likely by Deputy Ron Carver, so the agents went to great lengths to make sure he was giving a volunteer statement and that he had not been coerced in any way.
Once he got started, it was hard to shut him up. It became apparent that the man was both a fool and a weasel—a mid-level bureaucrat who had worked in the system for years. As he got older, his prospects dwindled. When the new owners took over Superior Shipping and Container, he expected his government job to continue as it had before. One of the company supervisors with whom he had worked every day suggested they get together after work for a drink or two. He had declined the offer for months. His wife frowned on drinking, and whatever she frowned upon, he didn’t do. Then one week, Nedra went down to the southern part of the state to visit an ailing relative. Edwin took the opportunity to spread his wings and found himself and the company man drinking in a wild bar with dancing girls and a live band. Edwin got a little carried away after too many drinks and was thrown out the door. After that, he pretty much lost track of things.
