Former FBI Agent Teaches Cadets Negotiation Methods Using “Boy In The Bunker” Case

Photo By Jorge Garcia | Cadets gathered in class to participate in the 2023 FBI Negotiations Lecture conducted by Kyle Vowinkel, senior lecturer at Cornell University and former FBI assistant special agent in charge Nov. 17 at the U.S. Military Academy.  

WEST POINT, NY, UNITED STATES

12.06.2023

Story by Jorge Garcia 

United States Military Academy at West Point

During a critical hostage negotiation, a misspoken word can mean the difference between saving hostages or endangering their lives.

Hence, West Point prepares cadets for a future that may involve critical life-threatening scenarios that require psychological finesse before the use of a firearm.

Preparation for such events is conducted through the Behavioral Sciences and Leadership's PL300 course, Military Leadership, in which cadets participated in the 2023 FBI Negotiations Lecture conducted by Kyle Vowinkel, a senior lecturer at Cornell University, on Nov. 17 at the U.S. Military Academy.

With a storied career in the FBI that spanned 24 years, Vowinkel is no stranger to adverse situations that demand informed split-second decisions.

Throughout his tenure, he witnessed a spectrum of high-stakes scenarios that demanded the fullest extent of his mental and physical expertise.

Earlier in his career, he served with the Critical Incident Response Group (CIRG), a division in the FBI that provides assistance during a crisis.

Housed under CIRG is the Elite Hostage Rescue Team, in which Vowinkel displayed tactical combat skills initially honed at West Point as a cadet and then later at the U.S. Army Ranger School during his five-year stint as an Army officer.

He would later turn in his weapons to become a hostage negotiator, a much more challenging endeavor Vowinkel admitted, where he would match wits with pirates, terrorists and kidnappers.

On Jan. 29, 2013, Vowinkel participated in one of the FBI's greatest hostage recovery operations, known as "The Boy in the Bunker."

"We're in Midland (Alabama) city, small community ... 25,000 people, and this is our initial event," Vowinkel said to cadets as he showed the images of the town where the incident occurred. "This is a dirt road off the main freeway, and the school bus goes up there in the morning and drops off kids in the afternoon. Our bad guy boards the school bus. He hands a letter to the driver (Charles Poland Jr.), demanding two children."

Standing before Poland was Jimmy Lee Dykes, a deranged 65-year-old Vietnam War veteran, frantically aiming a pistol at him. To Poland's right were terrified elementary school children sitting in silence. He had two choices: give up the children and possibly survive the ordeal or deny Dykes' demands and suffer the consequences.

"I can't," Poland said to Dykes.

"You've got to. It's the only way. They will not be harmed, and you won't be harmed." Dykes responded.

Dykes scans the bus and points at a boy and girl.

"You two in the back seat – the girl and the boy right there. Come here. You will not be harmed, I'm telling you." Dykes demanded.

"I'm sorry I can't let you ... " Poland said, inching toward the kids.

"I'm going to have to shoot you now. Come on, I don't have any time, and the goddam law is coming!" Dykes exclaimed.

Poland stands between Dykes and the children blocking access to the aisle.

"Don't! Don't!" Dykes shouts.

"I can't do it," Poland responds. "I can't— …"

POP.

The first shot is fired at Poland. Bedlam ensues. The children cry and shout for their lives. Dykes fires four more shots killing Poland and he takes a five-year-old boy named Ethan Gilman.

" ... Dykes puts him on his shoulder, goes back to his underground bunker," Vowinkel said. "He puts the child down in the bunker. Then, he comes up out of the bunker and calls 911."

Dykes informed the police that he had the child, gave them his address and disclosed that he and the child were staying in the underground bunker.

Vowinkel paused the audio between Dykes and the officer and turned to the cadets.

"There's a lot going on in that small police department. You got about 25 officers and one dispatcher who does a good job. But let's pause here for a moment, leaders, future officers," Vowinkel said. "Analyzing behavior and learning how to think is what I learned at West Point. I want you to analyze Dykes behavior thus far.

"What'd he do when he encountered an obstacle on the bus?," Vowinkel asked. "... And what is he doing here when he's calling 911? Any thoughts?"

Vowinkel selected cadets at random to answer, and to his delight, each cadet aptly noted distinctions in Dykes' manner during the incident that revealed telling clues about his personality:

He is determined, and when there is an obstacle in his path, he eliminates that obstacle with deadly force.

He blames the bus driver for not complying, refusing to take responsibility for the shooting.

He is willing to risk his life.

He is ready to commit murderous acts he believes are justified.

Each of those details would be astute bits of information used to prepare for a crisis negotiation. However, another peculiar detail stood out in Dykes' phone call with the officer that Vowinkel wanted cadets to catch.

"He wants law enforcement there, which is very weird," Vowinkel said. "He not only wants us there, but he's calling us on the phone, and he's directed us to a white post."

Vowinkel displayed Dykes' photo on the screen, revealing a gaunt white male, his hair copper white, full beard, with an apathetic gaze.

" ... He may not look like much, but he's a scrawny, wiry, determined guy," Vowinkel said.

In the letter that Dykes handed to Poland before shooting him, he requested healthy, well-mannered children, which made Ethan the perfect victim: a five-year-old boy with Asperger's Syndrome, a form of autism that requires medication three times a day.

Reason and logic festered as Dykes' actions showcased the extent of his disillusionment. He had developed a wrathful disdain toward the government and was prepared to display his vitriol in a terribly destructive way if the need demanded it.

Lt. Bill Rafferty and some local sheriffs from the Houston County Jail served as the first responders and negotiators.

There was no way to contact Dykes directly by phone.

However, Dykes had instructed the officers when they arrived at his property to speak with him through a polyvinyl chloride (PVC) pipe linked to his 6-foot by 8-foot underground bunker.

"The officers started talking to him, and it's very easy to hear through the pipe," Vowinkel said. "It's just like one of those (basic) science experiments where you're talking on one end and can hear on the other."

During the verbal exchange, Rafferty, upon realizing the dire nature of the situation, made an executive decision.

"The sheriff had a great leadership moment here," Vowinkel said. "He recognized this was far beyond his unit's capabilities. He's never dealt with a bunker before and he asked the local FBI, 'can you guys come assist us?'"

The FBI agents headquartered in Mobile, Alabama, also required assistance from a division specializing in hostage negotiations.

"The special agent in charge said that this was beyond their capabilities. They called in CIRG and so we came out," Vowinkel said.

The negotiators would receive questions like, 'Hey, you've got a five-year-old being held hostage in a bunker; why don't you send in tactical to go get him?' Well, it's not time yet, right?" Vowinkel said. “If we send in tactical day one, hour one, how is that going to turn out? Is tactical going to have a good plan in one hour?

"So, we negotiated and stalled for time to give tactical time to prepare," he added as he displayed the bunker layout on the screen.

"As you look at the bunker layout, I want you all to think what's the most risk-effective way they could send tactical in there because at the end of the day, we assessed that Dykes was never going to let Ethan go," Vowinkel said.

Vowinkel explained that bomb experts conducted an X-ray examination of the PVC pipe and discovered an improvised explosive device. Upon further inspection, agents realized multiple PVC pipes were planted throughout Dykes' property, indicating a large-scale bomb threat.

"He's already killed the bus driver," Vowinkel said. "Now, he is an offensive threat to negotiators and law enforcement."

His demands were explicit: He would exchange Ethan for a female reporter to share his story with her.

With a cell phone given to him by negotiators, Dykes spoke with a female FBI agent posing as the would-be news reporter. He explained that it would take three days to tell his story.

After he told the story, he planned to attach a tube to the helium tank, put the tube in his mouth, cover his head with a bag, and drift off into a painless death.

"Dykes knows that Ethan is his bartering chip and that he loses all control and all leverage once Ethan is gone, so there's no other way around it. The reporter has to come in," Vowinkel said. "Then and only then will he release Ethan ... in his mind, he is justified for what he's doing, so it's very tough to rationalize with someone who's completely illogical."

At one point, Dykes' neighbor, Rhonda Wilmer, spoke with a reporter during a live news broadcast. She stated that her husband and son overheard the shooting of the bus driver and explained how Dykes had always exhibited signs of a person becoming unhinged. Before the shooting, he killed one of her dogs, and Wilmer had Animal Cruelty Services visit him.

“Remember Dykes has a television inside the Bunker and he watches this and becomes quite upset and says, '... I should've killed the other dog, too,'" Vowinkel said. "... We're trying to lower emotions, and now Dykes is getting enraged at the neighbor and being portrayed as this villain ... now, let's talk about media. Any thoughts on how we respond to Mrs. Rhonda Wilmer, or do we ignore it?"

One cadet said that law enforcement should apologize to Dykes, on behalf of the media, for vilifying him and that they should play into his disdain for the news coverage and share how they also detest media.

Another suggested using a jammer to disrupt the news feed.

"We could have shut down all the (electronics) inside there," Vowinkel explained. "But it wasn't an option because we didn't want to anger him. Is there a way to send a positive message to Dykes?"

One cadet replied that law enforcement should create a fake news broadcast that portrays Dykes in a more redeeming way.

"I like it because who does Dykes care about?" Vowinkel asked.

"Himself," everyone responded.

Interestingly at one point, one of the two hatch springs used to open the heavy hatch lid leading to the Bunker was damaged during a storm. Dykes, while negotiating with Rafferty, offered to help lift the hatch lid.

"I was listening to the call, and I don't think I heard it correctly. I go to Bill when they hang up and ask, 'Did he just offer to help us lift the hatch?’ Rafferty says ‘Yes,’" Vowinkel said. "So, think about it: we have over 200 law enforcement officers out there. We have every vehicle imaginable. We don't need his help.

"... You're going to take him up on his offer to help us lift the hatch and then you're going to shoot him," he added. "That's exactly what I said to my boss."

Vowinkel approached the bunker to conduct a medicine delivery while a Hostage Rescue Team (HRT) operator had his eye behind the scope of his rifle. Dykes had agreed to come up and help open the door. There was no room for mistakes when taking the shot. Vowinkel stood near the entrance of the bunker with his hands pressed on his ears as Dykes began lifting the hatch lid.

"I put my hands over my ears, thinking the shot's going to break at any moment because the operator, he's got to confirm 100%, 'I see the gray hairs on Dykes,'" Vowinkel said.

Suddenly, Dykes catches a glint glimmering from the scope of the rifle before the operator can confirm the shot. He shouts and curses at law enforcement as he drops the hatch lid.

"... That trust bucket gone after five days of rapport building and he says he won't come to the hatch lid again," Vowinkel said.

Tensions remained high. Each second was spent devising strategies to expedite the process before Dykes went into a rage and unleashed havoc, severely harming Ethan.

"There was a lot of pressure on leadership to make a decision," Vowinkel said.

Dykes had food and water stockpiled for months and was ready for a battle of attrition.

After days of negotiating and strategizing, under the lens of national media coverage, law enforcement got in position to storm the bunker.

Neil W. Darnell, nicknamed "Whit," served as the tactical commander of the HRT Team. Considered by Vowinkel, the best in extremis tactical leader he had ever seen, Darnell was a "beast of a man," humble, genuine and authentic.

"There's no facades to him," Vowinkel said. "... He commanded loyalty, obedience and respect from his followers as they knew that anything he asked them to do – he'd do it."

In any extreme situation, Darnell shared the risks and was exceedingly competent at mission planning and close-quarters combat. There was no better person suited to lead HRT in breaching the bunker.

It was an 11-foot drop from the top of the bunker lid downward with a noticeably steep steps, making quick entry nearly impossible.

"So, the guys were thinking of how to jump down, but jumping is not reliable. You can hurt your ankle, of course," Vowinkel said.

One HRT operative suggested using a bar to lower themselves, creating a one to two-foot drop. Theoretically, it was a pragmatic plan. During the initial phase of negotiations, HRT rehearsed maneuvers on a mock setup. The plan worked until the bar started sliding back and forth. The bar was taken to a welding shop the next afternoon. Oars were welded on both ends of the bar.

"It helped a little bit," Vowinkel said. "It didn't move as much."

HRT went back to the welding shop. This time, they applied spikes on each end so that it would stick to the wood. Once that was complete, the team tried again, and to HRT's gratification, it finally worked. The mission to breach was set in motion.

To get a visual of Dykes before the breach, Vowinkel was tasked with exploiting the supply deliveries he would routinely coordinate for Dykes to lift the lid, giving HRT the opening they needed to end the volatile standstill.

"It was an iterative, continually improving process from that growth mindset to make the entry better and better each and every day," Vowinkel said. “The team also continually reduced the size of the problem by ridding the landmass of multiple IEDs."

Every night, HRT sifted through the property with bomb-sniffing dogs and used sticks to probe other areas for IEDs until the land was cleared, leaving the bunker clear to breach.

On the final morning, HRT got in their positions. Dykes' daughter sat in a van 100 yards away from the bunker with another crisis negotiator holding the laptop open so she could speak with her father.

Meanwhile, HRT planted small-shaped charges (breachers) on three guide bolts screwed onto the hatch lid. Vowinkel, conducting a toy delivery for Ethan, asks Dykes to lift up the hatch. Vowinkel puts the toy down. Dykes grabs the toy and Ethan places the toy under the bed.

Vowinkel lowers the laptop in his hands 18 inches, marks it with tape and backs away. Dykes' daughter calls out to her father. The ground force commander, upon getting a visual of Dykes utters the three words: Execute! Execute! Execute!

The charges are detonated, causing an explosion that destroys the sturdy guide bolts.

Dykes tried to remote detonate an IED out of the PVC tube through a command-detonated pull-wire, actively fighting – trying to kill HRT. Luckily, the IED was diffused.

The first man who led the breach firmly wedged the bar against the wooden sides of the hatch lid. He quickly lowered himself. The second man follows behind him but stops suddenly. The third man also stops.

Something is obstructing the entryway. The breach did not work, and momentum was lost. HRT, in all hostage rescue scenarios, relies on the principles of speed, the element of surprise and “violence of action,” and they had none of it.

"There's no speed, there's no surprise, he knows where they are, he knows they are coming in," Vowinkel said. “There are no other entry points. Normally, we have a primary, secondary, tertiary and even a failsafe breach. In this operation, we have none."

There were multiple failures and Dykes had the tactical advantage. For the first time in his career, Vowinkel felt despair creeping in.

The first operative hung in mid-air for a few seconds, with everyone wondering why the momentum had stagnated.

"I can see his chest and his head; he's bewildered, and we are all bewildered. Why has he not dropped down?” Vowinkel said on the FBI Retired Case File Review Podcast. "We were all hoping that Dykes would have been temporarily neutralized from the explosive charges and disoriented at the least, but that does not happen."

Dykes drew aim and fired seven shots at the first man, who pulled out quickly, evading Dykes' assault.

"He goes over to the medic," Vowinkel explained. "The medic asks, 'Are you OK, are you shot?' And he was so high on adrenaline and he says, 'I don't know doc, you tell me.'"

Darnell decides to deploy a canine. However, the dog is also unable to drop down the hatch.

"It doesn't make any sense," Vowinkel said. "We had dozens of times to look down that hatch with a camera and with our own eyes during these medicine deliveries and we saw no other obstructions. But now there must be some new obstruction, which previously had not been there."

Time was of the essence and Dykes had the advantage and was shooting at HRT. The primary breach failed and Darnell sensed a "cloud of doubt" looming over the team as they tried to strategize their way into the bunker.

Darnell knew his team needed inspiration before a moment of hesitation clouded their judgment and impeded the mission. And so, galvanizing his team at the 11th hour, Darnell shouted, "Guys, this is what we do! GET IN THAT HOLE!"

With complete disregard for their lives, everyone, including the first man, quickly returned to the bunker entrance. Dykes continues to fire at HRT while they deduce what the obstruction at the bottom of the bunker is.

"... Dykes is still firing. They reach the hole and figure out what the obstruction is and they feel a secondary set of cables," Vowinkel said. "Dykes, at about five feet down or six feet down, had put up another set of crisscross bicycle lock cables to prevent entry."

They feel the cables. One operative whips out a shotgun and fires at the bolts. Everyone pulls out bolt cutters and starts tearing through the cables, creating entry into the hole. They signal it is clear before lobbing a flashbang down the bunker.

With no time to think about risks, the first man, who was previously shot, took the lead once again and jumped down the hole.

"The first man, who had been shot at and who could have easily stepped out a line and let someone else take his spot, he bravely doesn’t hesitate," Vowinkel said. "... When I was in HRT, I was attached to U.S. Army and Navy special mission units, been on dozens of high-risk missions and shootings here in the states, been in over 100 combat missions in Iraq and Afghanistan.

"I've seen incredibly brave things from men and women in the bureau, the Army and the Navy," he added. "And I've never seen anything as brave as what the number one man did. The first man jumps back into that hole to save Ethan, knowing that there's an armed adversary who's prepared, willing and actively fighting."

In rehearsals for the hostage rescue, the first man was keenly aware he could encounter two possible scenarios: a fight to the death with Dykes or discovering a five-year-old child who is frightened.

Whatever scenario the first man and the rest of the HRT found themselves in, they thoroughly understood that there was no room for hesitation.

As HRT enters the bunker, the first man encounters Ethan. He quickly grabs him, wrapping his arms around his body, and turns away from Dykes, becoming Ethan's shield.

"The first man knows that the number two and three man are literally microseconds behind him ... the number two guy happens to be an Army Ranger and the number three guy is a Navy Seal," Vowinkel said. “I love it because I'm a former Army guy, but it's a perfect example of a joint mission. A Marine, Ranger and then a Seal all working together in a joint fashion to neutralize a threat."

The number two man smelled the pungent stench of Dykes' rancid breath as he quickly scanned the bunker. He sensed the first man was down, shielding Ethan to his right, which prompted him to draw his Glock and shoot Dykes several times in the chest.

Perhaps through sheer adrenaline, Dykes persisted with his assault, advancing toward the number two man, striking his pistol with a blunt object.

"With a Glock, when you pull the trigger and the front of that muzzle is depressed, the gun will go out of battery. The slide will go off to the rear; the gun is no longer functioning," Vowinkel explained. "So now, even though Dykes has been shot twice in the chest, he probably unintentionally has now taken that operator's weapon out of commission. So now they're tussling, they're fighting hand-to-hand.”

The second man takes him to the ground. Meanwhile, the third man steps in. With a flashlight mounted on his rifle, he spots Dykes, who is wearing blue jeans. Aware that his teammates are fitted with camouflaged combat fatigues, he aims his rifle at Dykes as he wrestles with the second man. The second man jostles into a more advantageous position, switches from his damaged Glock to his rifle, and simultaneously, both the second and third man shoot Dykes in the chest, killing him.

"The fourth and fifth man enter. They grabbed Ethan from the first man, they handed Ethan up and one of the biggest reliefs of pressure in my life was seeing Ethan come out of that hole being raised up," Vowinkel said. "He looked OK. Paramedics took him to the hospital, and he was unscathed."

The cadets watched the screen as Vowinkel went through various slides showcasing aspects of the aftermath and concluded with a wholesome photo of the honorable bus driver, Charles Poland Jr.

"I would like to remember a true hero who was unarmed, facing death, but gave his life to protect the children on that bus," Vowinkel said as silence filled the room out of respect for Poland's courageous sacrifice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you've joined the profession of arms. You've been protecting myself and all other Americans and I thank you for that," Vowinkel said as he displayed a photo of Vince Lombardi, an NFL Hall of Fame Coach. "It's hard work to be a leader and even harder to work to be an in extremis leader.

"That's Vince Lombardi, great football coach and here's a quote which I think is applicable," he concluded. "'Leaders aren't born, but they are made through hard work,' and you're doing that hard work now, and it will pay off later. Thank you for your service."

• Date Taken: 12.06.2023
• Date Posted: 01.16.2024 08:57
• Story ID: 460341
• Location: WEST POINT, NY, US