morning. My boss told me when I got back to the depot around one.’
He turned his eighteen-wheeler around in a space I’d have had trouble turning a dinghy trailer. Then he drove off, followed by his mate.
I was still standing by the blue bus when Tony came over to me, with Norman Gibson in tow.
‘On the bus,’ Tony ordered.
The three of us climbed aboard.
Norman started to complain to Tony that he hadn’t been told the true purpose of my visit but Tony cut him off.
‘Tell Norman what you told me.’
‘Hayden Ryder’s horses were due to be removed from here today and taken to Tennessee.’
‘How do you know?’ Norman said.
I told him about Elvis and his Chattanooga Horse Transport van.
‘Is he still here?’ Norman looked out of the bus windows.
‘No. He’s gone. He’d run out of time to drive all the way home today. He told me he’d be back in the morning.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this while he was here?’ Norman was not best pleased.
‘I couldn’t get through the police line to find you,’ I replied in my defence. ‘But I do have the company’s phone number.’
I handed over a piece of paper. I’d copied it off the side of the truck.
Tony was more interested in the significance of Elvis being there in the first place.
‘It means that Hayden Ryder must have been aware of the raid by one o’clock yesterday at the latest.’
Norman nodded. ‘The stable dispensary has also been packed up in boxes ready to be shipped out.’
‘So who told Ryder?’ Tony said.
It was the all-important question.
Sadly, we could no longer ask the man himself for the answer.
10
There was a debriefing for the FACSA raid team at four o’clock that afternoon, back at the mess hall of the National Guard facility.
Most of them had spent some of the preceding eight hours being individually interviewed by detectives from the Louisville Police Department’s fatal-shooting investigation team.
‘It is perfectly routine,’ Tony told me on the phone when I called him well away from the others. ‘There’s a standard procedure for all officer-involved shootings. Such
events bring intense media scrutiny and we have to guard against any damage to the agency’s reputation. Hence the local police conduct a detailed enquiry and interview everyone
involved.’
‘I wasn’t interviewed,’ I said.
‘The fatal-shooting investigation team is only concerned with events up to the moment the shots were fired. You were not a witness to the actual shooting so I didn’t give them your
name. I thought it was best to keep you out of it.’
‘I agree,’ I said. ‘Thanks. So what happens next?’
‘The evidence may have to be presented to a grand jury to confirm the killing was justified, although that’s most unlikely in this case.’
‘So you think the killing was justified?’ I asked.
‘Without a doubt,’ Tony said. ‘Ryder attacked a law-enforcement officer with a deadly weapon. That in itself is enough reason for him to be shot.’
‘But surely not ten times.’
‘It can often take more than one shot to bring down a suspect. Our agents are trained to fire multiple rounds in case some of them miss.’
‘I was told your agents are all hotshots,’ I said. ‘Surely they don’t miss.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Tony said. ‘They may be OK on the range but operational situations are very different. A Miami police survey showed that of thirteen hundred bullets
fired at suspects, more than eleven hundred missed. And NYPD found barely a quarter fired from under six feet hit their target, with less than a fifth at ten feet.’
‘How many hit Hayden Ryder?’
‘I don’t know yet. The autopsy will tell us. The important thing is that at least one did, and that one was enough to disable him.’
It had done more than that, I thought.
I had spent the day trying to erase from my mind the grisly image of Ryder’s head completely torn apart by an expanding bullet.
I’d seen more than my
He turned his eighteen-wheeler around in a space I’d have had trouble turning a dinghy trailer. Then he drove off, followed by his mate.
I was still standing by the blue bus when Tony came over to me, with Norman Gibson in tow.
‘On the bus,’ Tony ordered.
The three of us climbed aboard.
Norman started to complain to Tony that he hadn’t been told the true purpose of my visit but Tony cut him off.
‘Tell Norman what you told me.’
‘Hayden Ryder’s horses were due to be removed from here today and taken to Tennessee.’
‘How do you know?’ Norman said.
I told him about Elvis and his Chattanooga Horse Transport van.
‘Is he still here?’ Norman looked out of the bus windows.
‘No. He’s gone. He’d run out of time to drive all the way home today. He told me he’d be back in the morning.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this while he was here?’ Norman was not best pleased.
‘I couldn’t get through the police line to find you,’ I replied in my defence. ‘But I do have the company’s phone number.’
I handed over a piece of paper. I’d copied it off the side of the truck.
Tony was more interested in the significance of Elvis being there in the first place.
‘It means that Hayden Ryder must have been aware of the raid by one o’clock yesterday at the latest.’
Norman nodded. ‘The stable dispensary has also been packed up in boxes ready to be shipped out.’
‘So who told Ryder?’ Tony said.
It was the all-important question.
Sadly, we could no longer ask the man himself for the answer.
10
There was a debriefing for the FACSA raid team at four o’clock that afternoon, back at the mess hall of the National Guard facility.
Most of them had spent some of the preceding eight hours being individually interviewed by detectives from the Louisville Police Department’s fatal-shooting investigation team.
‘It is perfectly routine,’ Tony told me on the phone when I called him well away from the others. ‘There’s a standard procedure for all officer-involved shootings. Such
events bring intense media scrutiny and we have to guard against any damage to the agency’s reputation. Hence the local police conduct a detailed enquiry and interview everyone
involved.’
‘I wasn’t interviewed,’ I said.
‘The fatal-shooting investigation team is only concerned with events up to the moment the shots were fired. You were not a witness to the actual shooting so I didn’t give them your
name. I thought it was best to keep you out of it.’
‘I agree,’ I said. ‘Thanks. So what happens next?’
‘The evidence may have to be presented to a grand jury to confirm the killing was justified, although that’s most unlikely in this case.’
‘So you think the killing was justified?’ I asked.
‘Without a doubt,’ Tony said. ‘Ryder attacked a law-enforcement officer with a deadly weapon. That in itself is enough reason for him to be shot.’
‘But surely not ten times.’
‘It can often take more than one shot to bring down a suspect. Our agents are trained to fire multiple rounds in case some of them miss.’
‘I was told your agents are all hotshots,’ I said. ‘Surely they don’t miss.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Tony said. ‘They may be OK on the range but operational situations are very different. A Miami police survey showed that of thirteen hundred bullets
fired at suspects, more than eleven hundred missed. And NYPD found barely a quarter fired from under six feet hit their target, with less than a fifth at ten feet.’
‘How many hit Hayden Ryder?’
‘I don’t know yet. The autopsy will tell us. The important thing is that at least one did, and that one was enough to disable him.’
It had done more than that, I thought.
I had spent the day trying to erase from my mind the grisly image of Ryder’s head completely torn apart by an expanding bullet.
I’d seen more than my
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