KATRINA'S AFTERMATH: Michigan squads lay down law in the South

Agents help round up shooters
September 9, 2005

BY TAMARA AUDI
FREE PRESS STAFF WRITER

NEW ORLEANS -- Just after sunrise Wednesday, more than 100 New Orleans police officers and federal agents gathered quietly on the expansive outdoor entrance to Harrah's casino on the city's waterfront. Their commanders huddled around the day's mission plan, spread like a football playbook on the trunk of a black stretch limo.

At the center of the crowd, leaning over the plan and talking softly with the captain of the New Orleans Police Department SWAT team, was Roger Guthrie, a federal agent and father of three from Grosse Ile -- one of hundreds of Michigan law enforcement officials and National Guard members who streamed to the gulf coast to help restore order after Hurricane Katrina.

Before long, Guthrie -- chief of an elite Detroit-based tactical squad from the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives -- would help lead a large raid on the Fisher projects, a notoriously violent housing development, where snipers were firing at workers trying to repair a cell-phone tower.

His men covered themselves in 80 pounds of body armor and weaponry. As they prepared to set out, Jeff Winn, the New Orleans police SWAT captain, gathered everyone and said, "If you hear footsteps on the other side of the door and they're not communicating, do what you got to do."

Everyone knew what he meant.

The agents climbed into lumbering beige light armored vehicles. By 8:30 a.m., they were on the ground at the Fisher complex, rifles up, snaking through abandoned buildings in search of the shooters. The frenzied barking of Brody and Cisco, two dogs, echoed between the buildings. Wind whished over uncut grass.

By 9 a.m., the teams had rounded up one man, now on his knees in front of an apartment building. Another, shirtless, stood surrounded by guns against a wall. Police said they discovered weapons in one of the men's apartment and arrested him. They let the other man go after determining he wasn't involved.

Not long after, the phone repair workers returned. The Michigan agents, rifles drawn, watched over them -- another small portion of the perilous city reclaimed.

Officials unite in fight
Since arriving last weekend, the ATF team from Detroit rescued 18 people from floodwaters, helped snag three snipers, helped make the first federal arrests in New Orleans and prowled the pitch-black streets at night by car and on foot.

Alongside New Orleans' SWAT and ATF agents from Dallas, they secured every rotting, foul foot of the sweltering New Orleans convention center, stepping past four dead bodies, ramming through locked doors and spreading Vicks VapoRub under their noses to get through it.

"We wouldn't be able to do what we've done without those guys," said Winn, the weary SWAT captain.

No job has seemed too dangerous or too delicate for the agents or any of the other Michiganders who arrived in Louisiana to help secure the region and save stranded residents. Michigan's own turned up in nearly every corner of the disaster.

They range from a 250-person National Guard contingent dispatched to Monroe, La., where they are keeping safe 4,000 evacuees, to a two-man crew from the Birmingham Police Department who've patrolled neighborhoods and helped brighten the day of a displaced, sleep-deprived police captain in New Orleans' 6th District by delivering strawberry ice cream (his favorite) packed in ice.

Thirteen officers from Ferndale, Royal Oak and Auburn Hills were living at a powerless Hampton Inn, across from the garbage heap that was the convention center. Another dozen from Birmingham, Berkley, Southfield and Farmington Hills were camped in tents at State Police headquarters in Baton Rouge, driving daily into New Orleans to patrol and bring supplies to weary 6th District cops. That district lost its headquarters in the flood, and officers -- many of whom lost their homes -- slept in the parking lot of a looted Wal-Mart.

Wednesday morning, a lone Franklin Village police officer, Steve Major, arrived at the Wal-Mart after driving all night from Michigan with a friend to drop off food and clothing for New Orleans officers.

"This tragic event has brought our departments together," said Southfield Detective David Clevenger, who also was in New Orleans.

"We never met before this, and we have bonded."

Patrolling the streets Wednesday in their hometown squad cars, cops from Southfield, Birmingham and Farmington tried to convince the city's last straggling residents to leave, bolstered by a mandatory evacuation order from Louisiana officials.

"Hi there, do you want to get out of here? Are you all right?" 27-year-old Southfield Police Officer Brian Bassett called to four adults clustered on a stoop surrounded by foul-smelling, knee-deep water.

"We're fine," 39-year-old Bennett Marceline called out. "The water's going down."

"I ain't going nowhere!" 46-year-old Stephanie Burkhalter yelled to Bassett. "We got enough food for six months."

The four friends said they did not want to leave because they had heard on the radio that other states were turning away evacuees, and because nobody could guarantee where they might end up.

Bassett warned that authorities eventually would remove them by force.

"We'll wait till eventually," Burkhalter said.

Being resourceful
Most of the Michigan visitors, whether federal or local, had to compete for resources with agencies from across the country this week, turning New Orleans into a patchwork of military and police agencies run out of abandoned businesses and city landmarks.

Harrah's casino was law enforcement headquarters, the scene of briefings and meals for hundreds of cops. The Wal-Mart was the new headquarters for 6th District police. Captain Tony Cannatella held daily briefings under a sign for Wal-Mart's 1-hour Photo/Pharmacy/Optical center.

Two New Orleans officers manned a guard post outside the Wal-Mart garden center and stuck U.S. flags in a pile of overturned shopping carts to mark their spot.

The New Orleans SWAT officers, who allowed a Free Press reporter and photographer to embed with them this week, settled into an elementary school cafeteria, still decorated with cutout bumblebees in the windows. Battle-weary police were briefed on shootings at long kiddie lunch tables, squeezing adult-size rears onto little orange stools.

The Berhman Heights Winn-Dixie became a helicopter pad; the abandoned local insurance company housed the New Orleans police canine team. Down the road, fire trucks and emergency vehicles crammed the parking lot of a nursing home.

Cannatella, the 6th District captain, acknowledged to his officers that supplies were getting tight with the influx of visitors. But he assured them that the 6th District was filled with creative, can-do officers.

"We got some pirates in here that can mooch the drawers off a nun," Cannatella crowed.

The supply pinch was felt all the way up the chain, as officers, eager to help arrest bad guys and rescue the dwindling number of flood victims, wrangled over gas, boats and vehicles.

"Try ordering gas or boats or anything -- it's a bitch," Charlie Smith, the leader of the Dallas ATF team, complained before a joint mission with New Orleans SWAT officers. Smith and Guthrie of the Detroit-based ATF team slyly bartered for supplies, trading gas for airboats with other agencies. "That Roger, he can sweet talk anyone," Smith said, laughing.

Smith was being modest.

When ATF and SWAT agents secured helicopters from U.S. Customs and Border Protection to conduct reconnaissance missions, Smith handed the helicopter pilot a cigar before even saying hello. "Hey, so where do you want to go tomorrow?" the pilot cheerfully responded.

It was classic Smith, who grew up in New Orleans and who "will keep you laughing all night," according to SWAT Sgt. Dwayne Scheuermann. All week, Smith had a cigar in his mouth and a curse on his lips.

Smith's rowdy, southern charm was balanced by Guthrie's midwestern, low-key humor and choirboy vocabulary.

Among the 18 members of Guthrie's ATF team were seven from Michigan. The rest are assigned to the Detroit regional office, but live in neighboring states.

The group included Tony Primak of Royal Oak, a fantasy football geek; Jeff Kiser of Rochester, whose paper-bag turkey recipe was legend during the manhunt for convicted bomber Eric Rudolph; Mark Haddad of St. Clair Shores, who studied accounting before he took to strapping M4 rifles to his chest; Jeff Perryman of Plymouth, whose stony game face melted into an adoring smile when his search dog, Brody, was around, which was always; Brian Mamayek of tiny Luna Pier, whom the boys call Mama, and Mike Martin, who spent his downtime ruminating about how he might be able to contact his son Drew, who turned 10 Thursday in Sterling Heights. (Your dad says Happy Birthday, Drew).

Guthrie, their raspy voiced leader with war-hero-movie good looks, had attained near-mythic status among his squad. He survived a plane crash, guys whispered. He was shot in the face -- really, his buddies said, ask him about it.

The man seemed to have nine lives. And, except for the inconvenient detail that Guthrie refuses to talk about himself, it might all be true.

Nobody aside from a few federal agents and maybe some cops knew much about him, or his crew. Which is how most ATF agents like it. So when Guthrie, his 17 agents and one German shepherd -- one of four ATF special-response teams in the nation -- arrived in New Orleans, they did what they usually do: quietly risked their lives in a strange city, telling no one.

Always on call
At one point earlier this week, the men from the SWAT unit and ATF were sweating in a hallway of the massive convention center, waiting to head to the next floor to roust suspected snipers. Perryman slipped Brody, the dog, a bowl of water and stroked his head. Guthrie, swinging a 50-pound battering ram, walked over to his men and said, "The bad news is this is the part of the building with air-conditioning."

"The good news is, I just saved a bundle on my car insurance," Guthrie joked, mimicking an insurance-company TV commercial.

The ATF team worked to produce intelligence reports for the SWAT team, overwhelmed with shoot-outs and street patrols.

On Tuesday, with a tip that gangs were terrorizing a dry, isolated section of the city, SWAT and ATF agents targeted the area. Guthrie led his crew by boat. Smith led from the air.

"If we take fire from the ground ..." the helicopter pilot began to say. Dallas agent Dave Millen cut in: "We'll handle it."

The chopper hovered so close to the ground that the crew could smell the rancid water. Primak walked slowly through abandoned streets, his rifle up and ready.

There were no shoot-outs or bad guys on this mission.

The agents packed up and headed back to their tents pitched a block from the SWAT headquarters at the elementary school.

They barely had time to rest before another call came. And they were back on the streets again.