The Boston Marathon has been around for 116 years. It began in 1897, when William McKinley was President and people were rushing to the Klondike – for gold, not chocolate-coated peppermint bars. It’s one of the most famous sporting events in the world. And now, until the end of our lives at least, it will be inextricably linked to the bombings two weeks ago. Someone will speak of the marathon, and in the next breath, whisper softly of the tragedy. That’s the way of tragedies. I’m sure you no longer think of a blue, inverted-five-petal flower when you hear the word Columbine.
It’s fitting, then, that Andrew Gumbel’s and Charles Rogers’s book on the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building is titled simply: Oklahoma City. Because honestly, when I hear the words Oklahoma City, I associate them with a scooped-out building, excavated by an explosive-laden Ryder truck driven by an anti-government zealot.
(The city, of course, is much more than that one event. I give a lot of credit to the Oklahoma City Thunder for creating a more positive word-association. Interestingly, the Thunder organization takes new team members on a tour of the Oklahoma City National Memorial, which speaks volumes of the bombing’s impact).
I’m not exactly sure what spurred me to pick up this book over a month before another bloody American April. But it had something to do with the notion that I’d been alive during a terrible event and barely batted an eye (the bombing took place a week before my fifteenth birthday). Wanting to learn things I should have remembered, I picked up this book.
It wasn’t a great choice. And I’ll be honest, it’s not entirely the book’s fault. I was looking for one thing, this book delivers another. I guess that’s the important takeaway: this is a conspiracy theory book.
I suppose that’s imprecise.
Technically, the Oklahoma City Bombing, carried out by Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols, is already a conspiracy. But Gumbel & Rogers think the conspiracy extended beyond those two, its tendrils snaking deep into the militia movement. Moreover, they allege that the U.S. Government, through its law enforcement agencies, cut short their investigations – perhaps to hide their failures in not preventing the attacks; perhaps to give the American public the impression that they had things in hand.
The two authors acknowledge their task – to challenge a strongly established historical narrative – is a bit “presumptuous” (to use their own words). It is also not quite convincing.
To be sure, Gumble & Rogers are not crackpots. Leafing through the source notes, you see that they reviewed official reports, documents, and transcripts, and did their own interviews. They do not seem to rely on sketchy websites devoted to alien-facilitated anal-probes.
Still, the path of the “hidden history” is fraught with peril. And that peril begins right away, on the first page, as the authors open with a vignette featuring two Air Force bomb disposal experts ordered to Oklahoma City shortly before the bombing. The two servicemen are told little of their mission, stay in a “nondescript” hotel, and leave after the bombing. The implication straight-up allegation here is that these two men had been ordered to OKC to stop the bombing.
This allegation is never tracked down, never given substance, but rather left dangling, a handhold for anyone (ironically enough, given the subject) who mistrusts the government.
The difficulty for the reader going forward – especially one coming to the subject for the first time – is that the authors intertwine their speculation, their inferences, their meaningful coincidences, right into the fabric of the official story (uncovered not just by law enforcement, but through the process of trial-by-jury and the defendants’ own admissions). This leaves you wondering where the line between fact and supposition exists. The blurring of that line left me uncomfortable throughout.
This melding of accepted story and proposed story is especially disconcerting when it comes to the description of the bombing itself. Instead of Timothy McVeigh driving alone into OKC in his Ryder truck, Gumbel & Rogers give him an accomplice. This theory rests on the slender reed of highly suspect eyewitnesses.
The explosion of McVeigh’s bomb – and its aftermath – are disappointingly described. In a book ostensibly dedicated to the victims, those victims – along with heroic first responders – take a narrative backseat. The authors’ portrayal of the manmade hell at 200 NW 5th Street is curiously cool and distant. Instead of giving us some idea of the men, women and children who worked in the building, who lived and died there, the authors instead focus on odd bits of minutiae, such as the fact that the ATF illegally stored weapons in the building.
(This is the kind of unfocused mudslinging that drives me nuts. Who cares if the ATF didn't follow best practices vis-à-vis utilizing a proper armory? Their misdemeanors did not contribute, cause or worsen the actual terrorist attack. Yet the mere mention of this contributes to a general murkiness regarding government agencies that McVeigh himself would have appreciated).
Oklahoma City is stronger during its recounting of the trials of McVeigh and Nichols, if for no other reason than the authors are forced to stick with one story. It was interesting to read about the contrast in defenses. McVeigh’s attorney, Stephen Jones, was stunningly ineffective, while Nichols’s attorney, Michael Tigar, managed to save his life.
Amidst all the hearsay and theorizing about John Does and the Aryan Nation, a portrait eventually emerges of the two bombers. McVeigh comes across as a crew-cut Mr. Ripley, a human barnacle who leeched off his friends and slept with their wives. A man who’d risked his life in the Gulf, come back home, and turned his back on his country; a man who didn't blink at blowing up a daycare. He is fascinating in the way that “evil” is always fascinating. Nichols is far more familiar. A shy, humble loser with a troublesome mail-order bride from the Philippines. The perfect toady for someone with a strong personality.
As I mentioned already, I was looking for the story of Oklahoma City. Instead, I wound up with a book proposing an alternate reality, one where further conspirators are still on the loose. Judged on those terms alone – rather than my expectations – I still don’t think Oklahoma City is a success.
Certainly, the authors have done a thorough job with their investigation. But they never can produce a smoking gun. Some hard bit of evidence that can’t be ignored. Instead, their evidence is circumstantial, and requires you to squint at times. They have doom-laden coincidences; they have suspicious connections between varied actors; they have proof of investigative roads not taken; they have incredibly shaky eyewitness statements. I’m just not sure how much it all means.
I know this: I don’t discount what the authors have proposed and I don’t accept what they have proposed. I think, perhaps, the truth to be somewhere in between, with others having knowledge of the plot without being directly involved in carrying it out. In the end, I still believe McVeigh and Nichols were probably the two main actors, with McVeigh dragging Nichols behind.
It’s a question that won’t ever really be answered, because no one can ever accept a final explanation for something this inexplicable. The search for the truth is a search for justice, to be sure. It is also part of the healing.