Free Stalling for Time by Gary Noesner Page B

creating sweltering temperatures inside, that train compartment must have been intolerable. Was Mario finally weakening? He stuck his head out and waved, then quickly ducked back in. Moments later, he strung a bedsheet out of the still-open compartment window. He told Ray that he wanted containers of food and water tied to it so that he could pull them in.
    According to the protocols described earlier, a negotiator typicallywould demand the release of a hostage in exchange. In this case, I knew that we simply had to seize any opportunity we had to keep the children alive.
    We conveyed the request to Chief Heineman, and within an hour, police officers had brought doughnuts, sandwiches, and drinks to the station. With Mario’s window now open, exposing them to fire, the SWAT team members crawled under the train from the far side and tied the drinks and food up in the sheet. We watched as Mario hauled the sheet up through the window and into the compartment.
    We had finally been able to demonstrate our desire to take care of him and the children, and Ray immediately emphasized this. “Eat. Drink. Feed the children.” He continued with this theme, using what negotiators refer to as “positive police actions,” in which we reiterate all the good things we’ve done. The list also includes all the threatening things we purposely haven’t done. For example, he reminded Mario that we had not fired at him when he opened the window.
    We could hear some movement in the cabin, and after a while Mario spoke up again. “Gracias, Ray.” Ray continued to do most of the talking, asking about Julie, the little girl, and about the baby, Juan. Mario now opened up slightly; he gave only brief, noncommittal responses, but he seemed less agitated. He also began to call Ray “señor,” a sign of respect. This felt like a major breakthrough after the events of the previous day.
    Ray continued to develop his rapport with Mario, and early that evening convinced him to surrender one of his weapons in exchange for some cigarettes and soft drinks. Mario wrapped the handgun in the sheet that had been used to deliver the food and lowered it to the ground. It turned out to be a 9 mm automatic pistol that was jammed and unworkable. Still, it represented a step in the right direction.
    We decided that this was the moment to press Mario to surrender. Ray told Mario that it was time for him and the kids to come out.
    Mario responded, “Only if my
padrino
is here.”
    Ray glanced at me and translated, “Godfather.”
    “Who is your godfather, Mario?”
    He gave us the name of Paul E. Warburgh, a New York attorney who had defended Mario in a prior drug-smuggling case. He wanted Warburgh on the scene to guarantee his safety.
    The FBI office in New York quickly located Warburgh and spoke with him, and he agreed to help. Even so, I knew it would take time to fly the lawyer down to North Carolina on an FBI plane. We continued to press Mario to release the children.
    “Señor, what about Julie and the baby? Let’s get them out of there, yes?”
    No response. Ray continued. “Send the kids out now and you can come when your lawyer arrives.” He continued along these lines periodically over the next hour. Suddenly I heard Mario speak again, his tone matter-of-fact.
    I listened for the translation.
    “The baby is dead. Don’t worry about the baby, Ray.”
    Nothing in the way he uttered this sentence could have prepared me for the translation. He spoke as if telling us to get over something, with no hint of remorse. I looked at Ray and saw pure anguish. Mario continued. “I woke up this morning and he was blue and stiff.” He blamed us for not having delivered the IV through the holes in the door, as he had demanded earlier.
    I looked again at Ray and could tell he was devastated. He turned and walked farther down the train platform. Then he knelt down and prayed.
    Every negotiator handles the loss of a hostage differently. I tend to focus on what needs