Thibodeau, Thibaut, FBI discussed on American Scandal

American Scandal
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One way to find that focus is therapy, and better help online therapy is easy and effective. Better help is customized online therapy that offers you video, phone, and even live chat sessions with your therapist. So you don't have to see anyone on camera if you don't want to. It's much more affordable than in person therapy, and you can be matched with a therapist in under 48 hours. American scandal listeners get 10% off their first month at better help dot com slash AS. That's better HELP dot com slash AS. It's just before 6 in the morning on April 19th, 1993, and day 51 of the standoff. David thibodeau stands watch near a window on the second floor of mount Carmel. High winds strike the cheap glass window panes, and as thibodeau appears down, he sees the familiar faint outline of tanks on the federal perimeter. Tiptoe shakes his head. The forces outside have no respect for the lord or for divine inspiration. He thinks. Koresh has finished writing the first of the 7 seals, and now he started dictating the second. But the FBI sees koresh's revelations as just another delay tactic. They've made it clear that their patience has run out. Thibaut reaches down and feels a cool grip of his Glock pistol. Koresh and Steve Schneider issued him the gun, along with a rifle which he uses for his guard duties. Still, thibodeau seriously doubts he could shoot another human being. Not even someone who played bagpipe noises at ear piercing levels all throughout the night. To those size, it's been so long since he's had a good night's sleep. He can feel himself nodding off. But then his eyes snap open. It's the phone line the FBI negotiators use. Thibodeau wonders why they're calling it this hour and picks up quickly. Hello? Hello. This is Byron sage. Can I speak to Steve? Steve's still asleep. Could you go get him, please? I need to talk to him right now. Yeah, all right, hold on. Thibodeau stumbles down the corridor, muttering to himself. He's sick of the FBI's demands, all the harassment. He enters the men's dorm room and sees Schneider asleep on his bottom bunk. His dark blond hair fanned out on the pillow. Thibodeau nudges him gently. Hey, Steve, Steve, wake up. The FBI wants you on the phone. I think something's happening. Schneider bolts awake startled. What's going on? I don't know. I don't know. It's fire and sage. She wants to speak with you right away. He says. Suddenly, thibodeau hears the familiar rumble of tanks. He opens the window shade above his bed and the two men look out. Down in the yard tanks are advancing, but this time they have long metal poles extended out in front of them, like menacing claws, and they're not slowing down. Schneider's eyes go wide. This is it. We're under attack. Thibaut rushes down the hallway, sounding the alarm. Right then a voice booms over the loudspeakers. We're putting tear gas into the building. David and Steve lead your people out of there. Give it a freezes for a moment. They've prepared for this kind of scenario, and all the adults have gas masks under their beds. He grabs his and continues to the women's dorm. As he races the hallway, the voice on the loudspeaker once again rattles the building. This is not an assault. We are not entering the building. The tear gas is harmless, but it will make your space uninhabitable. Turn out now. But thibodeau has no intention of following these instructions. He sure he'll be shot if he acts as the building. So instead he continues down the hallway. People emerge from their rooms tired and confused and knocking into each other. Ebola pushes through the crush of bodies looking for Michelle and the kids. A picture of serenity and her smiling face, which is too small for any gas mask. The mothers know to put wet blankets over the children as a barrier against tear gas. They know how to protect themselves. And if the FBI thinks anyone is walking out of here, they don't understand what it means to have a faith worth dying for. Across the road from mount Carmel in the small, one story house, fire and sage leans forward at the window. He's holding his microphone, which is connected to the loudspeakers across the road. And he's straining to see what's happening at the compound. It looks like the first tanks have reached the Davidians, and so he speaks again into the microphone. This is not an assault he repeats. He urges people to exit. He waits and watches, squeezing the microphone tighter, trying to make out any sign that people are exiting the compound. There's a crackle on the FBI radio, and the commander of the tactical team comes on. He announces that the first tank has delivered tear gas into the compound. As sage listens to the update, he pictures the tank nozzle, breaking through a window, and delivering a steady stream of noxious white gas. He thumbs the button of the mic again and repeats the call for surrender. And right then, a voice comes over the radio, shouting, compromise, compromise. Sage's heart sinks. This is a code word, and it means only one thing. Someone inside mount Carmel has fired.

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