• =?UTF-8?Q?With_=E2=80=98Boots_In_The_Ashes=2C=E2=80=99_One_Of_The_First

    From Greg Carr@21:1/5 to All on Sat Sep 5 18:44:50 2020
    BOOKS
    With ‘Boots in the Ashes,’ one of the first female ATF agents looks back on the murder and mayhem she saw on the job
    Rick Kogan
    BY RICK KOGAN
    SEP 01, 2020 AT 1:27 PM

    Observe, if you will, this delightful domestic scene.

    There is a mother and a son and a dog. They are nestled on a comfortable couch in modest house in the northern reaches of Evanston. Outside the house, which is painted blue, are trees preparing for autumn, lawns getting ready for fallen leaves.

    The dog is Rusty, a Golden Retriever who is 10 years old.

    The young man is 17-year-old Sam Beebe, a senior at Evanston Township High School.

    The mother is Cynthia Beebe and she has written her first book and it is dedicated to Sam.

    Do not think this book is a tender domestic romp. Thought it does have many moments of familial warmth, “Boots in the Ashes” (Hachette Book Group) is primarily focused on some of the darker events that peppered Beebe’s nearly 30 years coursing
    through, as she writes, “a violent world of murders, gangsters and bombers. I learned why people shoot, burn and blow up each other. I have seen terrible things.”

    That was her job. She spent 27 years as a special agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. She was a pioneer, in 1987 becoming one of the first women hired as a special agent, but she does not indulge in feminist chest-thumping
    here but rather tells her story in compellingly straightforward style.

    She tells us that she comes from an innocent time and place, writing: “We didn’t lock our front doors when I was growing up in suburban Chicago in the 1960s,” and, “I loved high school. I had great teachers and good grades came easily to me.”
    She was a very good athlete and at one point thought she “would either get a doctorate in literature on Dostoevsky or Virginia Woolf, go to law school, or even get a master’s degree in journalism.”

    She was on just such a track, earning a B.A. in English and American Literature at Northwestern University and an M.S. at its Medill School of Journalism. But new opportunities for women were opening in law enforcement and she joined the ATF in its
    Minneapolis-St. Paul offices for a few years before coming back to its Chicago area offices. They were strangely exciting years, as captured here, when she writes about the aftermath of the bombing of a judge’s house: “We spent the day digging
    through mounds of debris containing heavy timber, sections of wall, roof, flooring, carpet, appliances and furniture. … We knelt on the ground and sifted through mounds of ashes, reminding me of charcoal in the bottom of the grill. At times when I look
    around at the other agents bending over and looking for evidence, I was reminded of playing in the sand when I was a little kid. But instead of building sand castles … we dug out charred rubble and searched for the story it would tell us. It was still
    fun, but we had a different purpose.”

    One of the book’s great strengths is the forthright way in which it takes us into several of her cases, from a jealous boyfriend who mistakenly bombs an innocent neighbor to a wacko living in the forest and terrorizing strangers.

    In eventually confronting such characters she told me, “With bad guys you have to have your guard up and be fairly aggressive. The best defense is a good offense, but I always tried to be polite and respectful even when I knew I was sitting across from
    murderers.”

    The spookiest of these murderers was a man named Ron Petkus who was, she writes, “as bad a man as I ever investigated as an ATF agent. He was an enforcer for the Hell’s Henchmen outlaw motorcycle club, now a part of the Hell’s Angels. He told me on
    his deathbed in prison that he had murdered 46 people. Bloodshed and violence were his profession, and he was good at it.”

    One look at the photo of Petkus in the book is enough to haunt your nightmares for keeps and it was Petkus’ relationship with the much more polished but equally diabolical criminal defense attorney named Richard Kagan that forms the centerpiece of the
    book. Kagan wanted his wife killed and, for $10,000, hired the biker to do the deed. This crime and the ensuing trial was widely covered in the press in the mid-1990s but Beebe’s behind the scenes details offer great insight and considerable chills.

    Copies of “Boots in the Ashes: Busting Bombers, Arsonists and Outlaws as a Trailblazing Female ATF Agent" by Cynthia Beebe are displayed in her Evanston home.

    It also displays Beebe’s clear writing style. Though in high school she “loved to read and study and write,” this book did not come easy. She credits a writing class taught long ago by former Chicago newspaperman Jon Ziomek at Northwestern. She
    credits her friendship with former newsman and author Wayne Klatt. She credits members of her book club.

    “I listened to them all and I took their advice and I just wrote and wrote and wrote,” she told me. “Some chapters I rewrote ten, eleven times.”

    You get to know her on a personal level, living through the pain of the death of her mother from cancer. (“Until I adopted my son years later, the best thing I ever did was help my mom die, knowing she was dearly loved,” she writes.) Then there come
    the palpable joys of adopting Sam as an infant from Russia and watching him, though it was never easy, grow “into a fine young man.”

    There are timely insights too, as when she tells us about working details protecting political candidates and presidents, writing, “I heard both funny and less funny stories about the White House and the people in it, some going back decades. But the
    agents always said they ‘protect the position, not the person,’ and I never saw otherwise.”

    She retired from ATF in 2014 and, in addition to working on her book, she has made occasional radio and television appearances as a commentator when, all too frequently, mass shootings took place. She is now collaborating on a book with former toy maker
    and acclaimed sculptor Jeffrey Breslow.

    “I overcame many obstacles to get to where I am today, a happy suburban mom,” she writes near her book’s ending. “I never gave up. Through (it all), I grew, learned, and changed.”

    When she and Sam leave their house to take Rusty for a walk, they lock their doors.

    rkogan@chicagotribune.com

    https://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/books/ct-book-boots-ashes-cynthia-beebe-kogan-0906-20200901-antq6lvplvebjco3ctmhgjdhq4-story.html
    =============================================================
    DYING INMATE ASKING FOR MERCY
    Gera-Lind Kolarik. Special to the Tribune
    CHICAGO TRIBUNE
    Geraldine Briseno of Waukegan wants Gov. Jim Edgar to let her imprisoned son come home to die.

    Once, her son, Ron Petkus, strutted his 340-pound, tattooed body as an enforcer for the Hell's Henchmen motorcycle gang in Chicago. Now, he is dying of cancer at age 46 in the Lincoln Correctional Center, where he is serving a 10-year term for attempted
    murder.

    There is nothing left of his boastful swagger. He has lost at least 80 pounds since being diagnosed a few months ago. His eyes are sunken.

    "He is going downhill very quickly," said prison warden Augustus Scott. "I understand from his doctors that he has four to six months to live."

    Petkus' downfall came in 1993 when he agreed to kill the estranged wife of criminal defense attorney Richard Kagan for $10,000. Petkus and another biker stalked the Highland Park woman for weeks and even had her in their sights several times. But they
    refused to attack her in front of her two young daughters.

    Then, on Aug. 19, 1993, Petkus and his partner planted sticks of dynamite in the wheel wells of Margaret Kagan's car in the Highwood Metra train station while Kagan was at a divorce court hearing.

    When Kagan returned and began to drive away, the bomb exploded. Though she was surrounded by fire, she escaped with only minor injuries.

    An investigation by the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms led to Petkus, who agreed to plead guilty and testify against Richard Kagan in return for a reduced sentence. Kagan was convicted of attempted murder and sentenced to 42 years in
    prison.

    Three months ago, Petkus was diagnosed with lung cancer. Since then, the disease has spread to his bones and liver, despite chemotherapy.

    After the diagnosis, Briseno, 63, contacted state Sen. Adeline Geo-Karis (R-Zion), who put her in touch with the Illinois Department of Corrections.

    George Strickland, chief of the felony division for the Lake County state's attorney's office, suggested that Briseno seek to have her son released on home confinement through governor's clemency, which is granted only for humanitarian reasons under
    unusual circumstances.

    Briseno said she knows it is a long shot, but "a mother loves her son no matter what, and I love my son."

    "It is worth it to me to try to be there as his mother in his final days, to fight for him and to help him," she said.

    The Ron Petkus of today looks nothing like he did when he was an enforcer. As a result of chemotherapy, he has lost much of his shoulder-length hair.

    "Dying is no big deal," he said in a prison interview. "But you would rather die around your friends and family. I hate dying here, chained to a hospital bed."

    One irony is Petkus grew up not knowing Briseno was his mother.

    He was born when Briseno was only 15. Briseno's mother put her own name on the birth certificate, and Briseno spent three decades posing as his sister.

    But, she said, "he was my son, and I treated him with that love only a mother could give."

    By the time Petkus was 10, Briseno was married and had more children.

    "He was always getting in trouble and running away from my mother's house so he could be with me and the kids," Briseno said. "In 1963, I was afraid Ron would be taken away into a foster home, so my husband and I went in and got legal guardianship."

    She finally told him she was his mother only about eight years ago.

    Still, Petkus became involved with gangs, which his mother asserted "became his family."

    After his arrest, Petkus learned another secret about his family: That he had an older sister.

    The woman, who had been given up at birth, saw him on a television talk show discussing his role as a hired killer. She recognized his name and tracked down her family.

    "I thought I had my life together, until this happened," Petkus said, referring to his cancer.

    In writing to Edgar last month, Briseno said she wants her son home.

    "I am praying I could be here for him and hold him in my arms as he takes his final breath," she wrote.

    According to the state's attorney's office, one consideration for clemency is whether the inmate is truly in the last stages of a terminal illness. Another is whether the victim of the crime would oppose it.

    And in fact, Margaret Kagan does.

    "He has no rights," she said recently. "He lost those rights when he tried to murder me, when he stalked me 30 times in his attempts to shoot me and when he wired my car with dynamite. How ironic that a hit man has fears about death when he's the target."

    "I didn't expect her to forgive me," Petkus said. "You can't forgive somebody who blew you up in your car.

    "It was a job at the time, and I thought nothing of it," he said. "I was hired to whack my lawyer's wife. I wrote her a letter after I was sentenced because I wanted to put her at ease and not to fear me."

    His mother is preparing biographic material on Petkus and her family for a clemency petition, asking that a hearing be held in June. She planned to file the petitions on Thursday.

    The state prison review board will hear the evidence and make a confidential recommendation to the governor.

    "There is no set policy, typically, on what type of person or health condition gets clemency," said Thomas Hardy, a spokesman for Edgar. "It is up to the governor to say yea or nay."

    It does not happen often. The last time Edgar freed an inmate for medical reasons was in 1995, for a convicted burglar dying of AIDS.

    During the process, Petkus remains chained to a hospital bed in the minimum-security prison. He fears that his term might turn out to be a life sentence after all.
    https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/ct-xpm-1997-05-30-9705300089-story.html ============================================================
    Boots in the Ashes Interview with Cynthia Beebe
    Posted on March 12, 2020 by Donnell Ann Bell




    Readers, I have just finished an extraordinary biography, Boots in the Ashes, Busting Bombers, Arsonists and Outlaws as a Trailblazing Female ATF Agent authored by Cynthia Beebe who after twenty-seven years retired from the ATF as a Senior Special Agent
    in 2014. As a writer myself, who loves research, I feel as though I’ve just completed a comprehensive course on arson, bombs, guns, criminology, psychology, workplace drama, and more. This is a book I plan to add to my Keeper Shelf and refer to often.
    Please welcome Cynthia Beebe to Help from My Friends Friday.

    DONNELL: Cynthia, welcome. Although Boots in the Ashes contains dates, facts and figures, and a multitude of technical jargon and acronyms, it also reads very much like a thriller. You have a journalism degree. I just gotta ask: Did you keep a Dear
    Diary by your bedside, pour through numerous case files to write this book? How many drafts?

    CYNTHIA: Yes, I scribbled ideas on little notepads that I left all over the house. I’d gather up my notes every day or two and write them in my computer.

    For the four main cases in my book, I studied more than seven thousand pages of trial transcripts, judicial rulings and news articles. There was a treasure trove of public information available and it allowed me to write about my cases in depth and with
    precision.

    I worked on the book for two years and wrote at least a dozen drafts. My early writing had to be extensively rewritten to bring it to life. I was fortunate to have really smart friends edit my manuscript, and their comments and insights made me a much
    better writer.

    DONNELL: You dealt with some seriously bad dudes! You assisted the Secret Service in protecting politicians. I think people of your ilk come with a fearless gene. Do you ever remember a time when you were seriously afraid for your personal safety?

    CYNTHIA: I wouldn’t say I was seriously afraid, but there was one time when another agent asked me to interview a secondary witness for one of her cases. I was under the impression that this would be a brief, routine interview of a civilian and I went
    alone, which I normally never did. It turned out that the witness was a bad guy, and while I was armed and he was not, I was still uncomfortable.

    I never wanted to be in a position where my only option to defend myself was to shoot someone. That’s bad for the subject and bad for me. There was a large table in the room and I kept it between him and me at all times. I completed the interview
    without incident, but the other agent and I had a discussion when I got back to the office.

    DONNELL: I like how you established upfront that you were a tomboy as a child and a team player as well. You talk about Title IX, and how it opened doors to you that were closed to women before you. What advice would you give a woman considering
    applying and working in federal law enforcement?

    CYNTHIA: My advice is to be aware that it is not an easy job for anyone, but it is particularly difficult for women. You have to work hard to be a good agent. You have to believe in yourself. In the office, I never let disparaging people stand in my way
    and brushed off all but the most egregious incidents. On the streets, you have to be mentally prepared to handle dangerous criminals, gruesome crime scenes and stressful circumstances. The federal training academies will teach you the basics, and
    experience will teach you the rest. It’s a stressful, demanding, but great career.

    DONNELL: I often read about lone wolf federal agent scenarios in fiction. How would a lone wolf have survived in your agency?

    CYNTHIA: Not well. It’s highly unprofessional in a collaborative field like law enforcement. They wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything significant. The better supervisors never stood for it and required agents to cooperate with the group whether
    they wanted to or not.

    That doesn’t mean we were all friends. It means you pulled your weight and backed up other agents whether you liked them or not. The handful of agents I saw who might have been described that way were shunted from one group to another or transferred to
    headquarters.

    DONNELL: Do you read? And if so, is Nonfiction or Fiction your preference?

    CYNTHIA: I read all the time. When I was younger I read mostly fiction, but now I enjoy both genres equally. The main thing I look for is the quality of the writing. A great writer can make corn flakes fascinating.

    DONNELL: ATF originally fell under the US Treasury Department. In 2002, after 9/11, it, as well as other newly created agencies such as ICE and TSA, were moved to the Justice Department. You were still employed during this period. Was this a difficult
    transition or was it seamless?

    CYNTHIA: It was seamless to your average street agent. It didn’t affect our day-to-day life, but I’m sure there were people at headquarters who had to deal with a lot of paperwork. At the highest levels it would have changed who people worked with,
    but not on the street level.

    DONNELL: You’ve traveled through the United States and abroad, but when it comes to Chicago, you’re like a homing pigeon. You write other state offices were better run and had better close rates. So, why Chicago?

    CYNTHIA: In my completely unbiased opinion, Chicago is the best city in the United States. It’s a gorgeous, vibrant city that takes full advantage of Lake Michigan’s beauty. There are about six million people in the metro area, but it’s still (
    relatively) easy to live and get around. People tend to be friendly. We have world-class museums, music, universities, restaurants, and sports—including, of course, the Chicago Cubs. Our lakefront and beaches are stunning.

    I love the change of seasons. Winters are cold, but I love the snow and some winter days are spectacular. Chicago rocks! I could go on but I’ll stop now 🙂

    DONNELL: And a segue to this interview. I have very dear friends from Chicago who drive like they’re part of the racing circuit. Is that required of a Chicago native? Are you a fast driver?

    CYNTHIA: Yes, I’m a fast driver. Chicago is a huge city and it can be a long way from here to there, so you can spend forever on the roads if you don’t move along. In rush hour though, there’s only one speed—pokey.

    DONNELL: What comes next? Has the writing bug afflicted you? Do you have any speaking engagements you’d like readers to know about?

    CYNTHIA: Yes, I’m excited about my second book proposal and it’s almost ready to submit to publishers. I’ll be appearing at Anderson’s Bookshop in Naperville, Il, on March 23, then at The Book Stall in Winnetka, Il, on April 2. And I’m in St.
    Louis on April 7 and 8 at the St. Charles Public Library and Left Bank Books. More engagements are coming soon.

    And thank you for your great blog Donnell!

    DONNELL: You’re welcome. I’d like to send a special shout out to Sarah Andre for recommending Cynthia Beebe’s biography. You were so right, Sarah! You can also follow Cynthia on Twitter @Cynthiabeebe4 and on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/
    CynthiaBeebe4/

    Readers, Cynthia has included an excerpt of Boots in the Ashes. You’re in for a treat.

    Prologue

    Ron Petkus was as bad a man as I ever investigated as an ATF agent. He was an enforcer for the Hell’s Henchmen Outlaw Motorcycle Club, now a part of the Hells Angels. He told me on his deathbed in prison that he had murdered forty-six people. Bloodshed
    and violence were his profession, and he was good at it.

    Petkus had two nicknames. He was tagged with “Stupid” when he shot himself in the butt with a shotgun as a young man. He always denied it to me, but that was the story. His other nickname, the one I saw provoke not fear but terror, was “Big Ron.”
    And Big Ron was laughing uncontrollably in the backseat of my car.

    In the spring of 1994, I worked with a team of ATF agents to arrest Ron Petkus on charges of attempted murder in the first degree, arson, and possession of an incendiary device. Petkus and another Hell’s Henchman, Melon, had blown up a car, intending
    to murder the wife of a prominent Chicago criminal defense attorney, Richard Kagan. Kagan had hired Petkus to kill his wife, Margaret, because she was contesting their divorce and delaying his marriage to his younger girlfriend.

    Petkus and Melon had followed Margaret Kagan for weeks trying to shoot her with a silenced .25 caliber pistol, but couldn’t get a clear shot. So Petkus decided to blow up her car instead. He built a powerful bomb out of sweating, degraded dynamite,
    which has a yellowish, waxy look to it and makes the weapon highly unstable. A booby-trap triggering mechanism would detonate the explosive device when the car moved.

    When the fateful day came, the two men, who knew where Margaret would be, saw her park her car in a train station parking lot. After they watched her depart on her train, they attached the deadly device underneath her sedan, unobserved. When she returned
    to her vehicle later that day, Margaret put the car in reverse and touched the accelerator. The resulting explosion was massive, destroying her heavy automobile and shooting shrapnel, flames, and choking smoke through the sedan. Remarkably, Margaret
    Kagan survived the devastating blast almost unscathed.

    As the lead investigator, I worked for months with an excellent team to build the case against Richard Kagan, Ronald Petkus, and Melon. While I had no doubt Richard Kagan was ultimately responsible for the attempted murder of his wife, I had to prove it.
    And I needed Petkus’s cooperation to make the case against Kagan airtight. After several months of hard work, we obtained enough evidence to get an arrest warrant for Ron Petkus.

    We arrested Petkus on a beautiful April afternoon, just a few minutes after he drove away from the Hell’s Henchman clubhouse in Chicago. He was in the passenger seat of a compact white pickup truck that was driving through a neighborhood of brick
    houses and small businesses on the near southwest side of Chicago. I was in the passenger seat of the car following right behind him, with at least a dozen additional units right behind us. I couldn’t help laughing as we tailed Petkus because he was so
    huge that the little white truck leaned heavily to his side as they sped along—truly a Big Ron.

    We came to a four-way stop at a quiet intersection. I decided to arrest him there rather than risk them getting to a busy street and radioed to my team that we were taking him down now. We peeled out into the intersection and pulled in front of the truck,
    boxing him in with cop cars in front and back. I jumped out of my car, sprinted to Petkus, and stuck my black .40 caliber pistol in his face through the lowered front window of his pickup. I grabbed him by his T-shirt and yelled, “Police!! Get out of
    the car!!” He opened the door without hesitation and I dragged him facedown onto the ground. Agents swarmed around us. I told Petkus he was under arrest for attempted murder in the first degree while I worked to cuff him. True to his name, he was so
    big I needed three sets of handcuffs to fasten his hands behind his massive back. I searched him and pulled a loaded six-shot .38 caliber revolver from the back right-hand pocket of his jeans.

    Together with several other agents, I was able to bring Petkus to his feet, walk him over to my government sedan, and secure him in the backseat. I got into the front seat and turned to look at him. I told him who I was and asked him about the revolver
    in his back pocket. He calmly told me if he’d known I was a cop, he would have shot me.

    “No you wouldn’t,” I told him, “because I would have shot you first.”

    To my surprise, Petkus burst out laughing. I knew he meant what he said, and he knew I meant what I said. And based on our mutual willingness to shoot each other, we built a highly productive professional relationship.

    In my twenty-seven years as a special agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, I investigated many sinister bad guys. Ron Petkus and Richard Kagan are just one story out of many that shaped my unusual career.

    In 1987, I was one of the first women hired as an ATF special agent. Soon after, and unexpectedly, I became the first woman to win the coveted “Top Gun” award for being the best shot in my class at the ATF Academy. I fought to find my way as a new
    agent in an office that had coldly driven out the first female agent shortly before I arrived. Not long after, I had to come to terms with my mother’s terminal brain cancer. As a young agent I worked with behavioral profilers at Quantico’s National
    Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime, who convinced me to stick to my guns and changed my career.

    I investigated a number of high-profile bombings and arsons, several of which resulted in lengthy trials. I extracted confessions from deadly serial bombers and hunted suspects on the National Church Arson Task Force. In addition, I worked Secret Service
    details, protecting Presidents Reagan, Bush, and Clinton, and spent weeks protecting foreign diplomats at the United Nations in New York City.

    I arrested Vice Lords and Gangster Disciples in the heart of Chicago’s most desperate neighborhoods. And at a time when rivalries and turf wars could cripple major investigations, I willingly worked with outside agencies. Many years later, I came out
    on top in a bureaucratic power struggle. And despite my dedication to a demanding career, I went on to adopt a little boy from Russia as a forty-four-year-old single mother.

    I thrived in a violent world of murderers, gangsters, and bombers. I learned why people shoot, burn, and blow up each other. I’ve seen terrible things—a father’s body torn open by shrapnel from a pipe bomb, a mother’s terror for the life of her
    young teenage son, and the bleakness of our inner cities. I know how and why people buy and sell guns and drugs. I know they commit crimes for money, power, sex, and revenge. I can find them, arrest them, and help prosecute them.

    As a girl and young woman, I didn’t aspire to this career. It wasn’t even an option when I was growing up. But beginning in the 1970s, new federal laws created opportunities for girls and women that we never thought would be possible. Doors were
    opened for the first time, and I didn’t walk through—I ran through them full speed ahead. I never could have foreseen what awaited me on the other side.

    About the Author:

    Cynthia Beebe is a retired Senior Special Agent with the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF). She spent 27 years investigating bombings, arson, murder, illegal firearms, gangs and other crimes. She was the first woman to be “
    Top Gun” at the ATF Academy, where she later taught as an instructor. Her cases were chronicled in the New York Times, Washington Post, Chicago Tribune and Ladies Home Journal, and were covered on ABC, CBS, NBC, PBS, 48 Hours and the Phil Donahue Show.

    Beebe is a member of the International Association of Bomb Technicians and Investigators, the International Association of Arson Investigators and Women in Federal Law Enforcement. She has a B.A. in English Literature and a Master’s Degree in
    Journalism, both from Northwestern University. Since her retirement she has appeared as an expert commentator on law enforcement issues for WGN radio and television. She lives with her son in a suburb of Chicago.

    https://donnellannbell.com/boots-in-the-ashes-interview-with-cynthia-beebe/

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