The Hunt

Washington was lucky that day in Birmingham, they had a witness who happened into a fortuitous position, and my truck was identified. I knew something was amiss based upon the early reports coming out of Birmingham so I prepared to make a move as i debated within myself whether or not to run or fight them in court. I chose the woods.

Rudolph knew he wouldn’t survive a court battle. He knew he might survive a battle in the woods. I think his inner debate was a short one.

The next year was a starving time. Hunted and haggard, I struggled to survive. But I am a quick study, and so I learned to adapt to my situation. I adapted so well, I decided to take the fight to my enemies.

The guy was one tough bastard, but clearly on the ropes in the early going. If we’d had competent federal agents, they could’ve nabbed him. But the feds fucked it up from the gitty-up by not checking out his home before announcing his name to the entire world on CNN, but that is water under the bridge. The government can screw up a one-car funeral, as our local congressman is fond of saying.

I then planned to strike the FBI headquarters in Andrews in the summer of 1999. But after a summer devoting most of my time to gathering food, I was never able to put together the necessary equipment to accomplish my plan. It had to be put off. In the meantime the FBI presence shrunk from a large headquarters with helicopters and hundreds of agents, down to a tiny office in the national guard armory in Murphy.

The new plan called for an attack in the fall of 2000. I had stockpiled a large supply of food that would sustain me for many years in the mountains, and I was now ready to concentrate my energies exclusively on the plan. The equipment was located many miles away on the border of Tennessee. After some effort I had managed to cobble together an effective device and move it to the ridge overlooking the FBI headquarters in Murphy.

This dude was clearly one resourceful motherfucker. He’s galavanting across mile after mile of wooded mountain land on foot, carrying around dangerous dynamite and Lord only knows what else, while cobbling together other materials to make his bomb. Amazing.

The initial plan was to steal a truck, transport the device to Asheville, and attack an abortion mill before the presidential election. This plan fell through when the truck used was not capable of driving two miles let alone 200. The election slipped away and I fell back upon my original target – the agents at the armory.

Doubtful that another bombing attack would have much impact on the Bush-Gore race back then. But Rudolph’s determination is incredible. Where would he get a truck? And he’d be willing to just waltz into AshVegas after a couple of years of having a sketch and photos printed in every newspaper and shown on every news channel?

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