“In Trailer #1, [Special Response Team] leader [Jerry] Petrilli wished he could tell [raid commander Chuck] Sarabyn one more time ‘how bad I think this is,’ but Petrilli was wedged tight in the middle of the trailer itself, while Sarabyn rode with the driver in the cab of the pickup truck. So Petrilli, bowing to the inevitable, passed the word to his squad: ‘It’s showtime; goggles down and fingers off the triggers.’ In Trailer #2, the driver shouted back to his passengers, ‘When I stop, you go.’ [Agent Mike] Russell, struggling to keep his balance like everyone else in Trailer #2 as it made a wide right turn onto Mount Carmel’s driveway, had a final, hopeful thought: Well, maybe Koresh heard we were investigating, and would probably be coming after him. But maybe he doesn’t know that we’re coming right now. He did…”
- Jeff Guinn, Waco: David Koresh, the Branch Davidians, and a Legacy of Rage
The raid on the Branch Davidian compound by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, the subsequent siege by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the conflagration that ended the fifty-one day standoff is a quintessential American story.
It has religion. It has guns. It has iconoclasts who want to be left alone. At its center is a pedophile with unrealized rock star dreams who deftly pivoted to messiah, because it’s America, and you can be whatever you want. It implicates serious issues regarding militarized police and the boundaries of proper government. It also involves a profit-driven media that has stopped reporting the news, and instead drives it. Most pertinent to the present day, the siege in Waco, Texas is about lies that become truth by mere repetition, and about the tendency of high-profile violent events to merge into a vast governmental conspiracy.
With so many topics to cover, with so much resonance upon which to meditate, I couldn’t think of a better person to tell this tale than Jeff Guinn. Thus, it came as a nasty shock to discover that Waco is hastily assembled, awkwardly presented, and so gap-riddled that it’s hard to know why he bothered. Published to coincide with the thirtieth anniversary, it has absolutely nothing new to say.
***
Unpopular opinion alert: this is a minority report. Based on a quick survey, it seems most people who’ve read Waco liked it. This is a disappointment to me, but might work just fine for you.
***
For a book I didn’t like, Waco gets off to a great start, demonstrating why Guinn is one of the best author-historians working today.
In a closely-observed prologue, just before the Mount Carmel raid begins, Guinn shows us the preparations of ATF agents for a showcase raid meant to bring a measure of acclaim to their unloved agency. Belying later conspiracist claims that the ATF intended – for no particular reason – to murder the Davidians at the outset, Guinn describes agents stuffing their pockets with candy and McDonalds vouchers, to be used to calm the compound’s children while it was searched
From this expertly-set hook, Guinn loops back in time for a methodical look at the origins of the Branch Davidians, and their founder, Victor Houteff. This survey explores their beliefs, explains how they came to own the land outside of Waco, and traces the exceedingly strange power struggles within the group, establishing yet again how the biggest fights can occur over the smallest stakes.
These early chapters are everything I wanted – and expected – from Guinn. It sets a firm foundation, answers questions I didn’t know I had, and adds a fuller dimension to the Davidians.
***
Guinn’s introduction of Vernon Howell, later to become David Koresh, is also solid.
Koresh was an unknown until he exploded into the national consciousness on February 28, 1993, when the ATF came knocking. As such, all of his early life has to be pieced together from evidentiary scraps of borderline credibility, often given by supporters – or Koresh himself – to burnish his image.
Guinn has experience with men like Vernon-turned-David. He is an expert at delivering true crime stories that puncture myths, such as his deconstruction of Bonnie and Clyde in Go Down Together. He has also handled cult leaders who use their positions to sexually exploit their followers, as he did in his magisterial look at Jim Jones in The Road to Jonestown, and Charles Manson, in Manson.
Waco should have tracked The Road to Jonestown, as the similarities between Jones and Koresh are striking, including a shared racial progressivism, a belief they were entitled to sexual liberties not extended to their followers, and their professed certainty that God chose them as a messenger.
Somewhere along the way, however, Guinn apparently decided to take Koresh at his word.
***
The trouble announces itself in a short, five-page chapter titled “The Girls.”
See, the thing about David Koresh is that he raped children. Somehow – understandably or not given what transpired – this element of Koresh’s character has never reached the prominence it deserves. We end up sidetracked by discussions about the First and Second Amendments, without ever grappling with Koresh’s unbridled and well-documented lust for adolescent girls aged ten to fourteen. In America, a man can spend his life in prison for looking at a pornographic image of a child; Koresh impregnated actual children, and yet this criminality is reduced to a factoid. Or – as Guinn repeats – something outside the ATF’s purview.
In this highly problematic chapter, Guinn briefly recites Koresh’s predilections. Though much is left out, he does recount a particularly graphic sexual encounter Koresh had with a ten-year-old girl in a motel room, an encounter that is stomach-churning.
Yet rather than condemn Koresh, Guinn decides to view the incident from his perspective, and that of the Davidians. He even begins to narrate Waco in their idiom, making reference to “secular law” and “agents of Babylon,” and noting that according to the Davidians “understanding of spiritual law, the Lamb was exercising his prerogative.”
Guinn also wants us to know, in a particularly odd passage, that even though having sex with a girl under fourteen is a first-degree felony in Texas, this “doesn’t mean that adult men in Texas never have sex with willing, unmarried, underage girls, but it does mean that they risk prison when they do.”
With this gross allusion to “willing” ten-year old girls, Guinn implies that child sexual abuse statutes are just one more example of government overreach, like a law that tells you how high your grass can grow.
This perception only makes sense when you realize that Guinn has accepted Koresh as a legitimate theological figure.
***
Throughout Waco, Guinn relies on two religious scholars who inserted themselves into the 1993 saga. Channeling their words, he comes to the conclusion that Koresh was some kind of Biblical genius. Leaving aside the important fact that the Bible itself was originally written in Hebrew, Aramaic, or Greek, and that any words Koresh “interpreted” had already been interpreted – and then translated – into English, the idea of Koresh as a brilliant scholar is rubbish.
Everything Koresh said – every passage he illuminated, every connection he drew – had the same purpose: to rationalize his own impulses. Koresh wanted to sleep with other men’s wives, so he found some words in the Bible that supported him. He wanted to molest children, so he told his followers that God meant for him to take the virginity of young females and sire their babies.
While Guinn and his theological experts are parsing Koresh’s “seals,” they are missing the obvious point that by some happy coincidence, the Bible supported every single thing Koresh did, even when conventional interpretations, and basic decency, said otherwise.
***
Things might have gotten on track if Guinn brought his usual skills to bear on the raid, siege, and finale. Here, too, he falls short.
As he did with the OK Corral in The Last Gunfight, Guinn tries to break the opening firefight down to its subatomic particles. Instead of clarifying, this makes for an incoherent and contradictory narrative.
The siege that follows is spatially compressed and generally rushed. I didn’t expect Guinn to give a day-by-day breakdown, but I also needed more than a brief summary that ignores the escalating tactics and the mounting pressures faced by the FBI. This is not the “definitive” look I had been promised, but a hurried dash to the finish line.
I recognize, of course, that my desire for a 500 page deep-dive into Waco is unique, and the 330 pages in this book is probably more in line with readers’ desires.
But if you’re going to make Waco short, you should also make it accurate.
***
Objectivity is a difficult thing to achieve. Admittedly, it often means an author telling us what we want to hear. To me, objectivity requires looking at all the evidence regardless of your presuppositions, classifying that evidence based on value and trustworthiness, and then making a judgment, using commonsense and probabilities to fill in any gaps.
In Waco, Guinn prefers to give the “government” side, the Davidian side, and then throw up his hands at the mere notion of truth. Of course, not taking a side is – in reality – taking a side.
There are numerous examples, but the biggest one concerns the final assault, in which the FBI knocked holes in the compound walls to insert CS gas. A fire broke out, and 76 men, women, and children died.
Instead of describing how Koresh had the fires set, preparatory to his follower’s “translation,” Guinn lays out all the different possibilities for what happened. To his minor credit, he thinks it “least likely” that the FBI decided to murder everyone on live television. More plausible, to him, is that the FBI started the fire accidentally. That Koresh was responsible is disparaged as merely the “most popular theory.”
I’ve read the Treasury Report, the Congressional Report, and Senator John Danforth’s Special Counsel Report. This makes me weird, but also cognizant about what Guinn elides. Specifically, the overwhelming evidence that Koresh burned his own people.
Earlier in the siege, the FBI snuck listening devices into the compound. These devices, known as Title III intercepts, caught a number of Davidians talking about the fires: “Need fuel.” “Have you poured it yet.” “David said we have to get the fuel on.” “So we only light it first when they come in with the tank, right?” There are at least 20 captured statements referring to the lighting of a fire. Guinn, however, bordering on mendacity, suggests that all the listening devices were destroyed by tank-collapsed walls before the fire started.
Meanwhile, eyewitness testimony and video footage prove that three fires erupted at different parts of the compound at approximately the same time. The FBI even saw Davidians pouring fuel, while Fire Marshals later found accelerant spread all over the place. This perfectly dovetails with admissions from surviving Davidians. Even Clive Doyle, a man for whom Guinn displays genuine affection, told the Texas Rangers that they spread Coleman fuel at designated locations.
Koresh torched his followers, then chose a bullet for himself. There are two sides to every story, yes, but in this case, only one side has supporting evidence.
***
This matters because – as we saw in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1995, two years after the fiery denouement – the Waco siege has been hijacked by domestic extremists to advance their own causes. They’re able to keep doing this because of a widespread refusal to separate the many mistakes of the ATF and the FBI from the legal, moral, and personal responsibility of David Koresh and his followers for breaking the law.
Having been a public defender for much of my career, I don’t habitually carry water for law enforcement, especially when it comes to bursting into people’s homes. But this wasn’t a no-knock dawn raid looking for a guy with a failure-to-appear warrant on a misdemeanor possession charge. This wasn’t Breonna Taylor.
This was a knock-and-announce in broad daylight, with sworn agents delivering a lawful warrant to a man sitting on a huge cache of illegal machine guns and grenades. Instead of complying, instead of litigating his issues in a court of law, Koresh slammed the door in the face of agents while his followers – who were stationed at windows with automatic weapons, an ambush pure and simple – opened fire. Due to some strange overlap on both the left and right, Koresh has undeservedly become the child-molesting face of the Fourth Amendment.
***
In Guinn’s utterly clueless final chapter, in which he approvingly cites Thomas Jefferson’s muddleheaded, pre-constitutional, undemocratic claptrap about the “tree of liberty” and the “blood of patriots and tyrants,” he offhandedly mentions Waco’s “legacy of rage.”
That rage comes from the belief that the blunders of the ATF and the FBI were actually symptoms of premeditated homicidal intent. It comes from the belief that “the government” is some faceless and shadowy institution, rather than a bunch of normal people, some of whom live in your neighborhood. It comes from the simplification of a complex and tragic event. To that end, Waco fails to investigate the problem; instead, it becomes part of it.