Hostage Crisis at 2600 N. Central

It was toward the end of the workday on a typical Thursday in Downtown Phoenix. The time was 3:24 p.m., or, in military time, 15:24 hours. In the next few seconds, everything that was normal about this February day would come to an end, and the long crisis – exactly one minute short of seven excruciating hours – would begin.

The call had come into the Phoenix Police Department: There was a man, he had a gun, and he was taking hostages in a Downtown high-rise. Nobody knew any other details. But nobody needed to know anything more in order to get rolling.

At that moment, there was no clue about who the man was, what kind of gun he had, how many guns he had, how many hostages he held, where he was holding them, why he was doing this, what he wanted or what would make him give up. But two entire emergency services units – the Phoenix Police Department’s Special Assignments Unit and the Phoenix Fire Department – both mobilized within minutes to sort it all out.

By the time it had ended – just as the 10 p.m. newscasts were wrapping up – the city’s emergency response team had faced the ultimate test. What follows is the inside story of what happened on that intense February night.

Forty-two-year-old George L. Curran had made it all the way from his Chandler home to the 18th floor of the high-rise located at 2600 N. Central Avenue – the building that houses the Phoenix office of the National Labor Relations Board.

As a secretary walked into the lobby, Curran snatched her at gunpoint and pulled her into a hearing room. Inside the room – an interior room with no windows – a visiting judge from San Francisco was hearing a case that challenged the termination of two women from Brighton Collectibles, a Scottsdale women’s clothing store.

The courtroom was filled with the judge, two attorneys, a representative from Brighton, one of the complainants, her husband, witnesses and a court reporter.

Meanwhile, secretaries who’d seen the gunman and his hostage alerted others in the building. Some employees locked themselves inside their offices as word spread. Outside, police patrol units were the first on the scene, shutting off traffic, getting word to frightened employees inside the building to stay put until the scene was secured, and clearing areas for the hostage negotiators who were arriving on their heels.

Lieutenant Stan Hoover runs the Special Assignments Unit in the city’s Tactical Support Bureau, which includes the hostage negotiators from special assignments – men and women so well trained and so experienced that military leaders and leaders from foreign countries call on them to teach crisis negotiation.

The first thing he did – the first thing everyone did – was follow the pattern that offers the best chance of success: contain, control, communicate.

One witness had told officers there were two hostages, another said that maybe there were as many as nine. Nobody would know for sure for nearly two hours.

The first fire department command officer – a battalion chief from the station at 150 S. 12th Street – arrived at the high-rise within five minutes. The chief asked Lieutenant Hoover what he needed.

“I told him we had from one to nine hostages who might need medical help, and he said he’d make it happen. That’s all I had to say. They set up an entire medical unit two floors down,” Lieutenant Hoover says.

A quick assessment made it clear that the FBI had authority in this case because the gunman was situated in a federal office. “We’re one of the few places in the country where the FBI and the police department work so closely together,” Lieutenant Hoover says. “There wasn’t any posturing – we’ve developed a good working relationship.”

Don Wente was the FBI’s hostage negotiator who dashed to the scene after getting word of the situation. He’d end up being the main negotiator that night, although, he and others all stress that hostage negotiation is a “team effort.” This team would eventually include eight seasoned negotiators.

“I was at my desk at the terrorism office when Jan called me,” Wente says, referring to Phoenix police officer Jan Dubina, who is considered one of the country’s best negotiators. (She has more than 15 years’ experience and is the crisis negotiations chair of the National Tactical Officer’s Association. In addition, she often teaches negotiating techniques internationally, most recently, in preparation of the Pan Am Games.) “My first job was to find [somebody] who knew what happened, to see if there was some game plan.”Experience told Wente that this wasn’t the usual hostage scene. Most hostage situations involve trapped criminals, but that wasn’t the case here. This was an armed man who’d entered a high-rise office specifically to take hostages. It was clear, as they’d later say, “he wanted a stage.”

As it turned out, George Curran got one of the largest stages Phoenix can offer. Every television helicopter was in the air, maintaining the safe distance demanded by police. Every sound truck was parked along the streets around the high-rise at Central and Virginia. Most TV stations carried the drama live, pushing other news out of the way so their reporters on the ground could gather whatever shreds of information were available. Every radio station had someone on the scene, as did the daily newspapers. The national newscasts also reported on the Phoenix crisis.

Added to the swell of media vehicles and reporters were all of the officials. Negotiators worked out of an emergency van, while dozens of patrol cars filled a blocked-off Central Avenue. “We like to present an overwhelming show of force,” Lieutenant Hoover says. Across the street was one of the city’s most venerable institutions, Durant’s, which showed its munificence by offering food and shelter to both the emergency crews and the families of the hostages, who had rushed to the scene.

Unlike the movies, however, negotiators don’t arrive and immediately call the gunman on a phone and try to make nice. “We have a lot to do before we make that call,” Lieutenant Hoover says. “We’re in the business of saving lives, not taking lives. But we understand we might have to take action.”

He leaves out the word “lethal,” but that’s what he implies.

So, before they make that call to find out what the gunman wants and why he’s doing what he’s doing, they make sure they’re ready. Two units of tactically trained Phoenix police officers – in full riot gear, with helmets and bulletproof vests, groin shields and steel-toed boots, and M-4 submachine guns at the ready – were in place before a single phone call was ever made.

By 16:10 hours – 56 minutes after the first call for help – sharpshooters covered both doors going into the 18th floor courtroom.

Detective Ed Warner was one of the guys outside those doors. “We could have gone in at any time, because once in place, we can move,” he explains. “Everyone is highly trained and ready to lead.”

Sergeant Pete Wechsler was outside the door, too. “We don’t get a lot of true hostage situations – usually it’s a barricade – but this was unique. This is the most difficult scenario that we train for,” he says.

Their training told them to “get there on time and probably wait for hours,” and that’s exactly what they did. When asked if it’s hard to wait, Sergeant Wechsler says, “All of our officers are very disciplined, and patience is a real big part of the job. If you’re not patient, you’re probably not going to make it here.”

Although the officers look like Rambo in their riot gear, that’s not their motivation. As Sergeant Wechsler puts it, “We have an obligation to preserve everyone’s life, including [the hostage taker].”

Or, as Lieutenant Hoover puts it, “Every officer outside that door is ready to risk his life to save those hostages. We don’t need to know any names. We use the level of force that’s necessary. One of our guys calls it the ‘velvet hammer.’” But, he stresses, “It’s not how fast we do something, it’s how safe we do it. I’m very proud of the ability of our teams to exercise patience.”

As expected, the night of February 23 would require a tremendous amount of patience.

Once the building was secured, firefighters moved into place, establishing the treatment area on the 16th floor and positioning crews in case of a fire. “I remember the uncertainty of the situation,” says Battalion Chief Bryant Johnston, who was a command officer that night. “We knew we had nine hostages, but we didn’t know if we’d have nine shooting victims or nine with minor injuries or nine who were emotionally affected.” They were prepared for any and all of those scenarios.

Chief Johnston praises the cooperation he saw between the police and fire departments that night. “We were able to work together, with a unified command. It was seamless,” he says.

Captain Sheila Fields was one of the first fire officers on the scene. This was her first hostage situation, and she remembers being concerned that “these were real people in real danger.” She, too, was impressed at how police secured the scene so that firefighters and paramedics could set up the treatment area so close to the scene without putting themselves in danger.

She describes the new streamlined coordination between police and fire – a system that got its first real test in this situation – as “awesome.”

With everyone in place, it was time to call Curran, but at this point, nobody had a clue about who he was. Officers searched for a way to contact him. A man working in the high-rise gave them a phone number for the courtroom, but it wasn’t connected. Eventually, a witness shared a cell phone number for one of the hostages, and that’s how the negotiators got through.

At about 16:50 hours – 1 hour and 26 minutes into the crisis – FBI hostage negotiator Don Wente made his first call to the gunman.

Considering that the man had taken hostages in a federal office, it was a good bet he had some beef with a federal agency, and would feel most hostile toward the FBI. So, FBI agent Wente started the call like this: “This is Don Wente from the Phoenix Police Department.” That brought an angry response – the gunman didn’t want “just” the Phoenix police, he wanted the FBI. Wente still gets razzed about that.

“At first the guy was venting,” says Robert Byrne, an FBI agent on the scene that night. “He had lots of problems in life. He was mad at the FBI. He was mad at the Phoenix PD. He wants a civil attorney. He wants his wife there. He wasn’t a calm guy – he’d go off on tangents. He seemed irrational to me, and a little volatile. A couple times he was trying to push us. I didn’t know if he was delusional or not.”

As Wente listened, it was clear that the man – who they would finally learn was named George Curran – had a lot of personal issues. And he remembers thinking, “How can we help him get over that? How can we help him surrender and save face and leave with a little bit of dignity?”

“A good negotiator is able to control his own emotions, to talk with someone honestly, to be a good listener,” Wente adds. “We teach that the most important thing is to be an active listener.”

Or, as FBI agent Diedra Gotjen explains, “The only control we really have is own our emotions.[A negotiator’s] calm voice is calming to the person.”

Negotiators remember the night as being a “rollercoaster,” which isn’t unusual in these situations.

Veteran negotiator Bob Ragsdale says one thing going for the hostages in this case was that Curran wanted something. “Because he wanted something, you have more of a chance to control the situation,” he explains. “It’s not in their best interest to hurt someone. In domestic violence [hostage situations], you’ve got a lot of emotions, which is what makes it so dangerous. In this, he needed something, and there are no emotions turned toward the hostages.”

Phoenix negotiator Jan Dubina says there are many clues to deal with a hostage crisis, but it takes a lot of people paying attention. “That’s why it’s a team effort,” she stresses. “People don’t realize there are a lot of people behind the scenes.”

Wente agrees that teamwork makes all the difference. “Some things you have control over – how we work as a team is one of them. We don’t have control over the suspect in a hostage situation.”

Negotiators are “doing empathy, not sympathy – how can we help you get out of this,” Dubina explains. She drops one hand almost to the floor and holds her other hand over her head: “Rational thinking is way down here, and emotions are way up here. Our job is to bring rational thinking way up. If they see that you’re seeing their side, it helps. You’ll do things for people you like, more so than for people you don’t like.”

When asked about what makes a hostage negotiator happy, FBI negotiator Byrne says:
“When we get behavior change. When we’re getting him to do something.”

For Wente, happiness is pretty simple: “If we make it safer and no officer gets hurt, no innocent person gets hurt.”

For Lieutenant Hoover, it’s just doing the job. “I’m happy when we’re negotiating,” he says. “That’s what we’re trained for. The bell’s rung, and now we go to work.”

By 17:15 hours – almost two hours after it all began – police had finally sorted through all the contradictory information and could account for nine specific hostages. Curran himself was the one to finally give them an accurate count. He also let them in on his angst, and he made his first demand: He wanted to talk with his wife and his sister.

As officers rushed to Curran’s home in Chandler to fetch his wife, Wente kept talking and listening, talking and listening.

George Curran was an angry man, and he’d been that way for more than two years. He’d become obsessed with the “injustice” of his wife being fired by the TSA, which provides security at Sky Harbor. He’d been trying to get someone to right this “injustice,” but couldn’t get anyone to help. Nobody would listen. Nobody would even try to understand. Nobody would lift a finger to make things right.

As he talked on the phone that night to a negotiator he’d never met, a man whose face he’d never see, he was finally, at long last, getting someone to listen. And Don Wente knew that this was the most important thing he could do in those first few minutes. Let this angry, frustrated, armed man know that he’d finally secured a willing ear.

Although negotiators are hesitant to talk specifics, because they’ll eventually be called as witnesses at Curran’s trial, they give clues as to how they tried to get through to him so he’d surrender – peacefully and nonviolently.

Nothing extremely terrible had happened yet – nobody had been hurt, nobody had been shot, things weren’t as bad as they seemed. There also was no way out for Curran – he was in a closed room that had no outside windows. The only way to leave was through one of the courtroom doors. Eventually, Curran would have to realize that those doors were being guarded, even though he probably never knew that the crouching men on the other side of those doors were monitoring his actions toward the hostages. If they’d heard a serious threat toward the hostages or any indication that Curran was about to shoot, they would have rushed the room. But, they never had to.

He didn’t want to hurt anyone – he’d given that message over and over. He was just a regular guy who’d been screwed over, but he wasn’t a bad guy, and he certainly wasn’t a killer.

It’s a safe bet that Wente even bragged to Curran that all of the local media were there – that Curran’s story would finally be told on television and radio and in newspapers and magazines. Inside that courtroom, Curran could hear the hovering helicopters, so he knew that Wente’s statement was true. In addition, he was probably told that the media would show some sympathy for his position if he’d give up peacefully, but most assuredly, he was told that the media would crucify him if any of the hostages were hurt.

While negotiators were listening and trying to “bond” with Curran, other officers evacuated the 17th, 18th and 19th floors of the high-rise. People were told to turn off their cell phones, walk single file, and “get down” if they heard any gunfire. They walked down the stairway to the ground floor and out into the night air.

At 18:00 hours, Curran’s wife and sister arrived, filling in more of the blanks to explain why this was happening. His wife told officers that her husband had quit his job to work on her case, and was completely frustrated. He thought of little else beyond how unfair this had been to his family, she told them.

At 19:45 hours, Curran’s wife was allowed her first telephone conversation with her husband, urging him to give up peacefully. At 20:28 hours, a female hostage asked for permission to use the restroom. Curran let her go. She was whisked away by the tactical team that was waiting in the hallway and taken down the stairs to the first floor. A second woman was released at 21:01 hours.

By then, Curran was down to one major demand: He would give up his gun if he could see his wife and sister upon leaving the courtroom.

Still unsure of his volatility, police devised an ingenious ploy: They positioned a large piece of mirror in the hallway so Curran could see his family’s reflection, but they wouldn’t be in harm’s way if he started shooting.

While all of this was under way, the hostages sat in the courtroom, and watched and listened as the gunman “vented” into the phone and brandished his guns. They had no idea that armed men were outside the door, ready to rush in at the first hint of impending violence. Nor did they know that one of Phoenix’s best snipers was in place and poised to shoot the minute the gunman showed his face outside that courtroom.

Detective Greg Stock is a 17-year veteran of the police force, a man who has no trouble passing the qualifying requirements of a sniper. At 100 yards, he can put 10 rounds into a two-inch square.

George Curran never knew that he was within Detective Stock’s sights as he stepped out of that courtroom to talk with his wife and his sister. If Curran had attempted to re-enter the courtroom, Detective Stock says he would have pulled the trigger. As fellow sniper Jim Kliewer puts it, “[Curran] didn’t know how lucky he was.”

The second Curran put down his weapons, tactical officers rushed the courtroom. It was 10:23 p.m., or 22:23 hours.

Officers in full riot gear can be intimidating, which might explain why the hostages didn’t rush them for hugs. Detective Warner smiles at that thought. “No, they didn’t hug us, but they were very relieved and very happy.” He remembers one woman breaking down when she realized it was finally over.

At this point, the hostages were sent to the 16th floor to be checed by paramedics, before being reunited with their waiting families.

A few days later, officers met with the hostages to explain what the authorities had been doing while the hostages were trapped in the courtroom. While the authorities received private kudos and thanks, the head of the National Labor Relations Board Union also issued a public thank you. In a letter to The Arizona Republic, William Mabry III wrote: “We would like to thank the many special and dedicated people who worked to bring the February 23 hostage situation to a peaceful conclusion…. We would like to extend a very special thank you to the hardworking and dedicated professionals of the Phoenix Police Department, the Phoenix Fire Department, the FBI and other agencies…. Thanks also to the staff and management of Durant’s Restaurant for their support and generosity during that long night…. All of us in Phoenix are fortunate to have such dedicated and brave neighbors.”

As for George Curran, he’s been charged with two major crimes: hostage taking, which carries a maximum penalty of up to life in prison, a $250,000 fine or both; and use of a firearm during a crime of violence, which carries a mandatory minimum sentence of seven years to life in prison (served consecutively with any other sentence), a $250,000 fine or both.

Ask anyone in the police or fire departments of Phoenix – or the local office of the FBI – and they’ll tell you that Phoenix passed the test of the 2600 N. Central Avenue hostage situation with flying colors.

“Anything that ends without loss of life is a success,” Lieutenant Hoover says. “In this case, the overall cooperative effect at every level was great – right down to the building manager [Don Chestnutwood]. I’m thrilled and proud of how it all came together.”

He says it is icing on the cake that the neighboring cities of Scottsdale, Mesa and Glendale were ready to help if they were needed. (In the same way that Phoenix was there to help when the Department of Corrections had a hostage crisis two years ago at Lewis Prison.)

“This was our first big test of a unified command,” Lieutenant Hoover says with a smile.
“And yeah, we passed.”