by Tim Wood
The police formed a line at the west end of California Street and ordered the protesters to move east two blocks. The protesters ignored the order. The police continued telling the protesters to move. The protesters continued to ignore the police commands.
Finally, a line of riot-gear-clad officers began moving down the street, forcing the protesters away from the front of the restaurant and the alley. Tear gas was deployed; many protesters sat in the street in defiance of the order to move. Those protesters had to be physically removed. It became an ugly scene, but finally the police got the crowd of protesters to a safe distance. They continued their chants protesting the Iraq war and I could plainly hear them, their voices echoing off the brick buildings that surrounded the downtown area.
The President, Mrs. Bush, and their party were still dining on the patio, but the protesters, I assume, thought by now the President had returned to his cottage and they dispersed on their own. The street was eerily quiet. I walked out to the front of the restaurant and looked up and down the street. It was empty, with just a few police officers on California Street in front of the Inn.
The remainder of the night was calm and the next morning the President and Mrs. Bush departed the Medford, Oregon, airport without incident, for the next campaign stop before the election.
A few months later the chief of the Jacksonville, Oregon, Police Department called me. He was at fifty thousand feet and climbing. He said the leader of the Jacksonville Iraq war protest had stopped by his office and was going to sue him for moving the group down California Street that night back in October.
“No shit,” I calmly said. “Don’t worry about lawsuits. If they sue the Jacksonville Police Department they will sue the Secret Service. You were acting at our direction and we have the legal authority to secure a venue for the President’s safety. Don’t sweat it. Let them sue. Any lawsuit they file will be dismissed.”
And I repeated, “The United States Secret Service has the legal authority to secure a building for the safety of the President of the United States. It is that simple.”
* * *
As the summer of 2006 approached, I was looking forward to Mrs. Bush’s vacation in Denali National Park. I just hoped she and her girlfriends would enjoy it as much as the Redhead and I had three years prior; after all, apparently the vacation had been scheduled at my insistence!
I had over twenty-two years in the Secret Service that summer and I was rapidly approaching the mandatory retirement age of fifty-seven. One thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to continue working; fifty-seven is way too early an age to sit in a rocking chair, and I didn’t want to be behind the eight ball with finding a second career, so I started the process of looking for a civilian job.
Just like back in 1976 when I sat on the grass outside the Memorial Union at the University of Missouri, I needed a plan. What I didn’t want to happen was for me to procrastinate too long in the job search; I had nightmares of me walking into my ASAIC office on my fifty-seventh birthday and HQ calling me. “Why are you here today,” I dreamed, “What? You thought the mandatory retirement age didn’t apply to you? Turn in your badge and gun. And have a nice day!”
I wanted something fun and exciting to work at; after all, since college, I’d been a Marine Corps officer, a bombardier/navigator in the A6E Intruder, and then a Secret Service agent. My entire career had been an adventure…Nine to five was not going to cut it, post-USSS.
One day in May or June of 2006, I saw a job posting for a position as the director of security operations for a nonprofit organization. It sounded like a perfect fit for me, so I e-mailed them my résumé.
In July 2006 Mrs. Bush and her girlfriends came to Denali and I was in Fairbanks, Alaska, awaiting their arrival. I had just walked into my hotel room and set my bags down when my cellphone rang. It was the human resources director of this civilian outfit. “Sure,” I said as I set my bags on the hotel room floor. “ I’ve got a few minutes to speak with you right now.”
The HR director finished up our telephone interview by asking me if I could fly to their headquarters next week for an interview. “Well, I’m sorry but I am currently in Alaska with the First Lady and I won’t be home to Seattle for about ten days. And then I have some commitments in Seattle. Unfortunately, I won’t be available for about three weeks.”
To my surprise, she asked me to call her as soon as I got back to Seattle and could pinpoint a day for the in person interview. Wow, I thought, things are moving real fast on this civilian job search.
Mrs. Bush and her girlfriends arrived at the Fairbanks airport and we took them on the Alaska Railroad from Fairbanks to the Denali Park entrance. The National Park Service gave us permission to drive a small motorcade of three Secret Service vehicles into the park and down the dirt road to Kantishna and we checked into one of the private lodges at the end of the road.
For the next week, Mrs. Bush and her friends hiked on trails in the park and we took them on some animal sightseeing excursions, with the Majestic Mount McKinley as a backdrop. I didn’t ask, but it seemed to me they thoroughly enjoyed Denali National Park. As Mrs. Bush got on the air force plane that would take her back to Washington, DC, I figured that was my last hiking vacation with her. And it was, because in a few weeks I would be retiring from the Secret Service.
I got back to Seattle and made the trip for the in-person interview and was offered the job. Holy shit, I thought, now I have to submit my retirement papers.
I was sitting in my office in Seattle with the August 31, 2006, retirement date rapidly closing in. My desk telephone rang. It was headquarters, The US Secret Service Legal Division. That is never a good phone call. “Are you aware of the lawsuit filed against you in US District Court, Portland, Oregon?”
What? “No,” I said as I searched my memory banks for anything I did that would result in a lawsuit. “Well,” she told me, “the ACLU of Oregon has filed a lawsuit surrounding the events in Jacksonville, Oregon, back in 2004”…her voice faded away in my head. The Iraq war protesters! Now I remembered the conversation with the chief of the Jacksonville Police Department over two years ago. I starting listening again, “And,” she said, “they have named you, personally and individually, in the lawsuit.”
I cut her off, “What does that mean?” I asked. “Well, they have named you and the PPD lead advance agent as individuals in the lawsuit and the Secret Service as an organization. That means you are being sued. Legally, it means you are being sued for damages and you are liable. But don’t worry, even if in the remote possibility you lost, the federal government would cover any monetary responsibility you incur as you were acting in your official capacity when the events occurred.”
Great…the Redhead is going to love this news!
She continued, “A US Justice Department attorney from the Civil Rights Division will be calling you this afternoon to discuss this case with you and give you the details of the lawsuit.”
Even though I knew the lawsuit would eventually be dismissed, finding out that I was named as an individual in this lawsuit was a bit discerning. Especially since I was not involved with any of the decisions to have the police clear the street—but for the record, had I been the agent responsible for making that call, I absolutely would have ordered the police to move those protesters. That was a one of the most dangerous situations I’d ever seen for a President.
The Justice Department attorney called me and gave me a very thorough briefing on the case and the first thing he asked me was if I wanted the Justice Department attorneys to represent me, at no cost to me since I was acting in my Official capacity as an employee of the Secret Service during the day in question. One thing I learned back in my Las Vegas days was that US Justice Department career attorneys are very good. T.J. and all those AUSAs I worked criminal cases with were all career Justice Department attorneys.
The wheels of justice spin extremely slow for a civil c
ase filed in US district court and this case would drag on and on from that early August day in 2006, when I was first notified of the lawsuit, until the final decision was handed down on May 27, 2014.
The Justice Department filed my (our) response to the plaintiffs’ allegations and the US district court judge in Portland ruled against us.
We appealed his decision to the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals in San Francisco. A three-judge panel eventually heard the arguments for the lawsuit and ruled in our favor, dismissing the lawsuit; saying the plaintiffs failed to show their First Amendment right to free speech did not meet the threshold for harm. However, the 9th Circuit Court judges ruled the plaintiffs in the case should have the opportunity to refile their First Amendment claim of harm if they could better articulate their claim to conform with current case law.
Really? Really. So they started all over again with a new lawsuit. Once again, the US district court judge ruled against us, the case could go forward. We appealed to the 9th Circuit once again. This time a different three-judge panel decided the case against us. The lawsuit can move forward. We (myself and the other Secret Service agent) were not entitled to qualified immunity.
We appealed to the 9th Circuit to rehear the case before the entire 9th Circuit Court of Appeals; we wanted all seventeen judges to hear the arguments and make a decision. This appeal was granted and the case was argued before the entire panel.
Keep in mind; this entire process took years. In 2012, the case was scheduled on the docket and eventually it was argued before the entire Circuit Court of Appeals. Months pass before a written opinion was handed down. We lost nine to eight. Nine US appeals court judges ruled we were not entitled to qualified immunity and eight judges sided with us, agreeing that the lawsuit was baseless.
My attorney from the US Justice Department called me. He told me the Justice Department thought we had a very good chance if the United States Supreme Court would agree to hear the case, because the closely divided 9th Circuit Court and the extremely important issue of qualified immunity for Secret Service agents acting in their official capacity to protect the life of the President is in jeopardy.
If we lose this case on the qualified immunity issue, the future of the protective mission of the Secret Service is at stake—the Secret Service will have to take into account the “message” being voiced by citizens inside a secure area before the Secret Service can move them a safe distance from the President. Do you even know how ridiculous that sounds? It’s as if a federal judge doesn’t seem to think an assassin, lying in wait for the opportunity to kill the President, would not lie, “Oh, I’m just here to exercise my First Amendment right to disagree with the President. I’m not here to try an kill him.”
“Yes,” I said to my Justice Department attorney. “Let’s file the appeal with the US Supreme Court.”
The Supreme Court accepted the case and on March 26, 2014, I so wanted to pull out one of my old dark suits and sit in the back of the Supreme Court and listen to the arguments before those nine judges, but unfortunately, I was working for a living and missed the presentation.
I have spent a lot of time in federal courtrooms, and believe me, I have never been able to guess which way judges will rule just based on the questions they ask the lawyers. I have listened to the tape recording of the arguments presented to the Supreme Court. One minute I think Justice Kennedy is on my side, then it seems he’s not. It sounds like Justice Kagan is leaning my way, and then she’s not. Nerve-racking, completely nerve-racking.
On May 27, 2014, the US Supreme Court rendered its decision. The Justices voted nine to zero that this lawsuit was baseless and Agent Wood had a legitimate security rationale for moving the protesters, and thus were entitled to qualified immunity from lawsuits. I’d been retired for almost eight years and finally it was over.
I always knew this lawsuit would end in my (our) favor, but it sure took a long time. The lawsuit filed by the ACLU had a distinctive political point of view; they seemed to imply the Secret Service was acting as “protectors” of the President’s political party. I’ve protected Democrats, Republicans, Communists, and dictators. The political party affiliation of the President is not a factor. Keep him alive and let the voters decide.
Epilogue
I was a Secret Service agent for twenty-one years, nine months, and five days. I was thirty-one years old when I took the oath of office in the LAFO on November 26, 1984. I was fifty-three when I retired on August 31, 2006, at the Seattle FO. Way too young to retire. I absolutely loved that job, and I so, so wish I could do it again.
After the Secret Service my retirement dream job was with the United States Olympic Committee as the director of security operations. I traveled with Team USA to international games locations and enjoyed the experience. Unfortunately, “security” seems to be a luxury with board members, and once the recession hit in 2008, my position was one of many cut when money got tight. But my old Las Vegas RA buddy B.J. came through and got me an interview with a new division in and old government agency. US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) had started an internal affairs division, and they needed experienced criminal investigators.
CBP gave me a four-year contract to investigate administrative and criminal cases against (suspected) corrupt border patrol agents and CBP officers. That was an interesting job, to say the least…there is nothing worse than a corrupt cop.
Those fours years flew by real fast and the next thing you know, I was unemployed again. Enter the Beaver and the Murphy Oil and Exploration Corporation. The Beaver called me and the next thing you know, I was working for the Beaver in deepest darkest Africa—Cameroon and Namibia. Providing security for expats living abroad, drilling for oil. I squeezed about thirteen months out of that gig, and then the price of oil plummeted, and once again, the board members decided “security” was a luxury.
Retired for good, I sat down at my computer and starting writing. This is what I wrote.
Acknowledgments
Al Joaquin, for giving me the thumbs up on that initial interview in Los Angeles; Skip Williams, Ralph Grayson and Stan Belitz for seeing promise in my panel interview. Earl Devaney for talking the SAIC into transferring me to Las Vegas. Chuck Brewster and Tom Spurlock, my RA’s in Las Vegas. My cohorts in the desert—Mike Morgon, Rick Wadsworth, B.J. Flowers, Ron Weiss and of course the Beaver, Mike Fithen.
My Marine Corps buddies, Alan “Bronco” Bromka and Mark “Boots” Whitman and all the Bats of VMA(AW)242; it was a pleasure flying with you.
A special thanks to LtCol Robert L. Wills, USMC and Stephen Quinn.
