Much precedes/follows this adapted excerpt from the chapter titled ‘Contagion’ in the book Paths Crossed – Battling Drug Dealers
Two days after the chase, December 31, Hui and I were in court in Jackson concerning the arrest of the Colombian national on December 15. Court concluded before noon and we went off duty for the holiday. Hui rushed east to a birthday celebration in the nearby town of Chelsea. I headed home, hoping to take a nap, as my wife and I were registered to run a 5K race in Jackson at the midnight celebration of the New Year.
While all this was going on, information was percolating through Shane’s (driver of the van that evaded us in the chase) mom to the Hillsdale County Sheriff’s Department. The information was that during the chase, when the police shot at the van, they killed a woman in it. Shane later abandoned the van, with the body inside, in a field off Cellars Road in southern Hillsdale County.
Sheriff Stanley Burchardt, who had nearly been hit by the van two days earlier, went with his detective in search of the van. It was a bit before 1:00 p.m. when they spotted it in a farmer’s snow-crusted field. The tracks revealed that it had been driven through the fence to its final resting place. As the crow flies, the van was found only about 7 miles from where we last saw it during the chase. The sheriff and detective walked across the frozen ground to investigate. Peering in the van’s frosted window, they saw a woman lying still on the floor, head and shoulders covered in blood. “Sam,” the sheriff said to the detective, “Go back to the car and radio in that we found her and get us some assistance.”
The sheriff’s words in the cold silence caused the woman to moan, “Help me.” Shocked she was still alive two days after having been shot, they jerked open the van’s door. While the detective hustled back to the patrol car to summon an ambulance, the Sheriff administered first aid. In checking her injuries, he found what appeared to be a bullet wound, the round entering beneath her right jaw, passing through her mouth where it damaged her teeth, and then exiting beneath her left ear. The woman also suffered from hypothermia. The ambulance transported her to the hospital in Hillsdale.
The van was later towed to the ‘bat cave’ of OMNI3 where detectives posed for this picture.
Standing - Bushman, Heywood, Amos. Kneeling - Trojan, Pigboy, ShowMe, Hui.
It was 1:00 p.m. when a phone call informed me of this ongoing saga. As I headed for the Hillsdale County Sheriff's Department, I told my wife I should be back in time for our New Year's Eve date.
Meanwhile, Hui was enjoying a luncheon birthday celebration when his pager vibrated. He recognized the phone number of the informant who first brought Shane Wesley Austin to our attention. Shane was the person who had the methamphetamine lab and had eluded us in the chase. The informant told Hui that Shane was back with his wife, and they were holed up in a motel off I-69 south of Fort Wayne, Indiana. Shane wanted him to drive down and get them as their car was now disabled. Fort Wayne was only a couple of hours from Hillsdale.
Hui told the informant to stall, but not go, and try to get the name and location of the motel so we could arrange for Shane to be arrested. The informant agreed, but Hui didn’t trust him.
Again my phone rang. “Hey, ShowMe, Hui here. Guess who I just talked to! You’re not going to believe this.” Hui went on to share the new information.
I said to Hui, “I’m going to poll the team to see who is available to go to Indiana to check motels for our man. If you are available, meet me at the first exit off I-69 south of the Michigan-Indiana line. We’ll brief there.”
All I heard was, “See you there.” The line went dead. I phoned the other members of the team, finding Amos, Heywood, and Pup available. They, too, responded to the meet spot.
Leaving the state in an official capacity required me to notify my superior. Unable to reach Eagle, I left him a voice mail, saying, “Unless otherwise advised, Amos, Hui, Heywood, Pup, and I are going to Indiana to look for Shane. Hui got information that Shane is holed up in a motel south of Fort Wayne. We will notify the Indiana authorities if we spot him. Happy New Year.”
Unable to reach Eagle, I then telephoned ELOP (East Lansing Operations), the 24/7 nerve center of the Michigan State Police. I advised the lieutenant of our intended foray into Indiana. Still on the fly, I telephoned the Fort Wayne post of the Indiana State Police (ISP) and requested assistance. Because it was New Year’s Eve, I worried what help they might be able to offer. The ISP desk sergeant arranged for Detective Heffelfinger of the ISP to rendezvous with us at the meet spot. And, with all that was going on, I neglected to call my wife and tell her she might be running alone.
Our briefing at the meet spot was short. We broke the huddle and raced south on I-69 until we passed Fort Wayne. Once south of Fort Wayne, we leapfrogged, two of us exiting per interchange to check the register of all the motels near it. If one of us scented our bird, he would radio the others. We would then establish the surveillance while Detective Heffelfinger assembled Indiana authorities to make the arrest. It was a long shot, but it was the only shot we had.
We divided into three pairs, with Detective Heffelfinger as my partner. Our first turn at bat would be at exit 278 where we spied the Huggy Bear Motel. After identifying ourselves with the clerk , I asked to see the guest register. The clerk willingly slid it across the desk for me to review. Using my index finger as a marker, I started at the bottom of the list and worked up. The names seemed to be mostly scribbled, and it took me a moment or two to decipher them. As I made out the name Orin Prosser, I paused to think where I knew it from. It was the name of the man we had arrested with the wife of Shane Wesley Austin on the night of the chase and who had bonded out the next day. I pointed to the name and asked the clerk to describe the person. The clerk’s description matched that of Shane Wesley Austin, and he was registered in room #105.
Trying not to show my excitement, I returned to my car and radioed, “ShowMe – Crew, heads-up. I am at the Huggy Bear Motel, exit 278, and I think the target is holed up in room #105. Respond to this location to establish an eye (stake-out).” Being out of state, our radios did not have tower support, so our car-to-car range was limited to a mile or two. I was relieved when, one at a time, I heard their voices: “Hui en route.” “Pup en route.” “Heywood en route.” “Amos en route.” It appeared our luck had changed.
The crew now came together as a team and focused their attention on the area surrounding the Huggy Bear Motel. Doing what they do so well, they blended in to observe but not be noticed. Amos parked his car so he had a direct line of sight to room #105. We wondered why we saw no parked vehicle that might be theirs. We hoped they were out to dinner and would return soon. As the team reconnoitered the area, Hui discovered an older, black Dodge Dakota pickup displaying Ohio license plates. In checking the license plate, we learned it was registered to Prosser. The pickup appeared disabled and was in the nearby parking lot of the Hoosier Hen restaurant.
Detective Heffelfinger then requested the activation of the ISP version of a SWAT team and arranged for me to brief them at a nearby school in an hour’s time. During that hour, I returned to the crew and gave them, one by one, a preview of the upcoming episode. I then relieved them so they could grab a bag of fast food for their New Year’s Eve meal.
With the hour nearly passed, I found my way to the meet spot with ISP. I met a half dozen or so ISP Swat Team members dressed in tactical uniforms. In an elementary school classroom with everyone sitting in too-small chairs, I briefed them on the situation. They then drove to the area of the Huggy Bear Motel, prepared to act when necessary. The stakeout wore on.
Just prior to 9:00 p.m., the light for the Huggy Bear Motel illuminated a man and boy entering the parking lot. Immediately they disappeared into room #105. Minutes later, a car pulled up to the room, and the man and boy emerged, quickly getting into the vehicle which pulled away. The man matched the description of Shane Austin.
An ISP cruiser followed the vehicle away to soon conduct a felony stop on it. The man was not Shane Austin. He was Orin Prosser, and a friend had driven down to pick up him and his son. Once again I interviewed him, this time in the backseat of an ISP cruiser. His loyalty to Austin was fractured when he learned his wife was not dead. With that, Prosser shared that he had helped Shane flee Michigan by driving him, his wife, and his kids south. For all of them to fit in the pickup, Shane and his wife had to lie in the bed of the pickup. They covered themselves with blankets to protect against the bitter cold and hide Shane from being spotted. When his pickup broke down, they sputtered into the parking lot of the Hoosier Hen and got a room at the Huggy Bear. Shane called Steve (our informant) and arranged for him to come and get him and his family. Steve picked them up in his minivan around 4:30 pm. I sighed to myself; our questionable informant had, for all practical purposes, now declared that he was on the dark side.
It appeared we had only missed Shane by thirty minutes. Wondering if Orin had just thrown me a bone, I asked him, “Is Shane still in the motel room?”
With a blink and a gulp, Orin said, “No, I told you he left with Steve.”
About that time, Amos, who was still watching room #105, radioed that the curtain had moved, as if someone had peeked out. With that, the ISP SWAT team changed their focus from the car stop to the motel room. They decided to apply the basic approach: get a key to room #105 from the innkeeper; surround the room; evacuate adjoining rooms; secure the parking lot; attempt phone contact. Finally, use the loud speaker to demand the occupants come out with their hands up. If the demands were not met, toss tear gas into the room to force them out. They would be prepared to enter the room, but they would do so only as a last resort.
With no reaction from room #105, the ISP SWAT team used a pass key to open the door enough to roll a tear gas canister into the room. We anxiously waited.
Soon grey smoke seeped out the cracks surrounding the door to the room. Minutes passed, still nothing. Suddenly we realized there was a fire in the room, and the SWAT team members tactically entered wearing gas masks. Within seconds, one of them dragged a smoldering mattress into the parking lot where the contents of a fire extinguisher were quickly applied. No one was in the room. Evidently, the tear gas canister had been the catalyst to the fire. Apparently, the parting of the curtains had been caused by the furnace blower. Once again, Shane had vanished.
We returned to Michigan empty-handed. It was the New Year when I got back. Kim was asleep, and I awakened her to say I was home. She lifted her head and said, “Where were you? I did the 5K alone. Why didn’t you call?”
Lost for words, I simply answered, “Sorry.” I went downstairs to unwind with a couple of beers. It had been a New Year's Eve like no other. The hunt would continue.
Read PATHS CROSSED – BATTLING DRUG DEALERS for the rest of this and other exciting stories.
OMNI3 Detectives pose before their Trophy Board.
L-R /Top-Bottom: ShowMe, Bushman, Heywood, Amos, Pigboy, Hui, Trojan
