CHAPTER ONE IT'S TIME TO DIE Time cools, time clarifies; no mood can be maintained quite unaltered through the course of hours. --Mark Twain There it was, hard and direct. "You going to shoot me when I come out?" Charlie said. "No," I responded. "That's not going to happen. You said you wouldn't hurt anyone. You said you'd drop off the pilot somewhere in the mountains. So there's no reason for anyone to get hurt." The logic of this formulation appeared to work for Charlie, perhaps because this was his only chance to go on living with Cheryl and their son, little Charlie. But what I knew that he didn't was that somewhere out in the fields surrounding us, FBI marksmen were poised, waiting to take his life. A large part of a negotiator's job is to establish trust, yet there are fundamental contradictions in that. In order to convince someone that despite all appearances to the contrary, everything will be okay, you have to project sincerity. You have to make him believe that what you are saying is honest and aboveboard. You have to address his primal need for safety and security by establishing a bond. And on rare occasions, you have to lie. "Have you ever been on a helicopter before?" I asked. "No," he said. "You'll enjoy it. The view over the mountains will be spectacular." Of course, I knew that he would never take that ride or experience that view. Once again, the contradiction: he was hearing what he wanted to hear. "Charlie," I said, "I need to ask you an important question." "What?" "The helicopter pilot is an old friend of mine. His name is Tom Kelly. I've known and worked with Tom for many years, so I need your absolute promise that you won't harm him in any way. If anything happens to Tom, I would never be able to live with myself." "I won't hurt him," Charlie said. About ten days before, Charlie Leaf had abducted his estranged former common-law wife, Cheryl Hart, and their young son from her parents' home in Connecticut. After a seven-year relationship, Charlie and Cheryl had separated two years ago. When Cheryl had finally left him, she said she saw him snap. She moved in with her parents, trying to get on with her life, but Charlie, like so many men in such situations, was not willing to let her go. The way he saw it, Cheryl and little Charlie were his possessions, and he wanted them back. Over the next two years he threatened her and physically abused her whenever he found her. He had once even abducted little Charlie for six months, and gave up the boy only when the police intervened. Cheryl had sought and obtained a restraining order a year ago. The next day, right before he had to go to court, Charlie came to kill her. It was on Friday, April 1, 1988, that Charlie cashed his paycheck and purchased a carbine rifle, sawing off the gunstock in order to conceal it. Then he drove to Cheryl's parents' house--they were away for the weekend--and pried open a door leading into the garage. He kicked in the door to Cheryl's bedroom with the rifle in his hand. He beat her and raped her before telling her to pack things for little Charlie. He told her that she could go or die. Fortunately, Cheryl had the instincts of a survivor. She remained calm and said she would come; she convinced Charlie that he didn't have to kill her. "We can go away," she said. "We can start a new life together with little Charlie." Cheryl had made it clear by now that she wanted no part of Charlie, yet he wanted so much to believe her that this gleam of hope obscured his judgment. He gave her a few moments to get the boy out of bed and to gather up some clothes. Then they took off in Charlie's car. Cheryl had no plan other than to try to stay alive. Charlie's plan, to the extent that he had one, was to avoid being caught. Both knew that Cheryl's parents would call the police the moment th Excerpted from Stalling for Time: My Life as an FBI Hostage Negotiator by Gary Noesner All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
