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Copyright 1995, THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE
Draper ordered five women and four men into a second-floor conference room. A frantic library patron burst into Sheriff's Lt. Lloyd Prescott's office next door and told him about the siege. Prescott ran into the library and talked his way into the room.
Some 5 1/2 hours later, when 30-year-old Draper decided he would kill the hostage who drew the shortest strand of rope, Prescott made his move. Here, for the first time, is a detailed account of what the 10 hostages were thinking throughout the ordeal that generated headlines nationwide.
`HE POINTED HIS GUN AT ME'
Nathan Black was impressed that a ``scruffy guy'' had come off the street to watch Tibetan monks perform a sand-painting ceremony.
``He was talking with someone really loud,'' recalls Black, a 23-year-old Brigham Young University student who teaches German to missionaries. ``Here is some homeless person who wanted to see this. Good for him.''
Seconds later the man jumped on a desk, started screaming and waving a gun. Black froze.
``I never thought about running,'' he says. ``That would have been stupid.''
Denise B. de la Cruz and a friend met at the library every Saturday to discuss philosophy. They arrived early that fateful day to watch the monks disassemble the painting.
De la Cruz noticed the man in military fatigues, but figured he was an actor practicing his lines.
``I thought we were involved in some sort of movie,'' explains de la Cruz, 59, a technical writer for an Orem software company. ``He was fairly good. He was in control of what he was doing and he had learned his lines well.''
Michael Greer, who watched with his wife, knew Draper was for real.
``It never occurred to me that someone would fake this,'' says the 47-year-old Greer, who distributes materials for a Salt Lake consulting firm. ``By the look on his face, there was no kidding around.''
An inner voice told Julie DeHaan not to make eye contact with the gaunt man wearing a red bandanna. But the 39-year-old minister could not help it.
``It was like a freeway accident,'' she explains. ``You've got to look.''
She pauses for reflection then adds, ``He said, `You look intelligent.' I thought if I am so damn smart, then why is this happening to me?''
Chad Johnson wore headphones while videotaping the ceremony, and was so preoccupied with his work that he did not notice Draper -- until it was too late.
``He told me to take my camera in with me,'' says Johnson, 27. ``He wondered if we could go on television live. I told him no, so he made me shut it off because he did not want a recollection of it.''
Librarian Gwen Page signaled employees to call police, and that nod of the head was all it took for the wild-eyed gunman to make her a hostage.
``I remember his scanning eyes, and I instinctively knew he was looking for a librarian,'' says 42-year-old Page, who wore her official name tag on a white T-shirt with blue hearts. ``He pointed his gun at me and said he wanted hostages in the room; I was to start counting people.''
Draper's eyes never fell on Virginia Savage, but she walked toward the conference room anyway. ``This incredible sadness filled me,'' says Savage, 49, a professor from Arizona and friend of the monks. ``The Tibetans have been through so much and they are a peaceful people. I wanted to be in there for them.''
`YOU LITTLE PUNK'
Earl Dillon had just called the Toastmasters meeting to order when someone screamed a man with a gun was storming into the conference room.
``I got behind a pillar,'' says Dillon, 66,
who sells auto parts. ``If there was shooting, I didn't want to be hit.''
Sue Allison, a motivational speaker who works with businesswomen, was making her first presentation to Toastmasters when chaos erupted. Instinct told the California transplant that if she hit the floor, everything would be OK.
``I didn't feel a big threat,'' says Allison, 47. ``In L.A., we heard about this kind of stuff all the time.''
While the other Toastmasters escaped through a second door, Dillon and Allison watched seven terrified people file into the room. Behind them was Draper -- one hand gripping the gun, the other squeezing the curling iron that acted as a deadman's switch to the bomb draped over his shoulder.
``I thought, `You little punk,' '' Allison recalls. ``He looked like a scrawny jerk. Then I saw the gun and the idea he was a punk left me pretty quick.''
Blinds in the glass-enclosed room were closed. The nine hostages were ordered to turn their chairs to the wall and sit still.
Greer feared Draper would put a bullet into the back of his head.
The same thought occurred to Allison. ``My brain went into survival mode. I envisioned this being an execution line.''
A CONFUSED TOURIST
As Sheriff's Lt. Lloyd Prescott bounded through the library, Draper's demand letter was placed in his hands. Pretending to be scared, the 47-year-old Prescott waved the letter at the door of the conference room. He asked the gunman what he wanted done with it.
Draper ordered him to mail the letter. Prescott stepped outside and handed the note to a library patron. Then the slightly overweight man wearing casual pants and a light-blue Windbreaker walked back to the room and closed the door.
``He came in like a confused tourist,'' says Savage. ``I thought he was an idiot.''
Prescott, who at the time had 22 years experience as a cop, joined the nine other hostages now facing Draper around a 4-foot-by-8-foot table.
Draper slowly removed the bomb from a battered, gray gym bag and placed it on the table in front of him. He also pulled out of the bag a coil of rope, a knife, a roll of duct tape and a portable radio. Draper then asked the captives their names and professions.
When it was Prescott's turn to speak, he said he was a bookkeeper. Few in the room believed him.
``I was betting he had a hunter's mentality and was going to get us all killed,'' Allison says. ``He was a lousy actor.''
ON THE RADIO
The library uses cordless phones so employees can check resources while talking to patrons, and Draper somehow got two of them into the conference room.
Police quickly had one phone disconnected, though, so Draper would have only one line out. Negotiators hoped Draper would talk to them.
But the gunman was in the mood to hear some music. Dillon tuned Draper's radio to KLZX. Draper then ordered Greer to call the station and request songs by Aerosmith and Jethro Tull.
Greer did not know how to work the phone. So Page, who quickly was becoming Draper's flunky, showed Greer how to dial. On his first try, Greer got a recording listing station numbers.
``My hands were shaking so bad that I had trouble writing down the numbers,'' says Greer. ``When I finally got through to a human, I was terrified they would think this was a hoax.''
Disc jockeys believed him and began playing Draper's requests.
``We blew off all other programming,'' says station producer Tricia Griffith. ``He wanted to go on the air but the police told me if he asked, to say no.''
Draper told DJs he planned to hold out 72 hours. He demanded a man wearing only boxer shorts to bring in food, sedatives for the hostages and enough amphetamines to keep him awake for three days.
``I may wind up in the morgue, little bits and pieces in the crematorium,'' he screamed during one call. ``But I am not going to jail!''
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES
Draper ordered Page to tie rope around the doorknobs and secure the other ends to the table. Then, suddenly, he told everyone to strip.
No one moved. And apparently unnerved by the silence, Draper changed his mind. Only sweaters and jackets had to go.
Prescott protested, claiming he was cold. His jacket was the only thing hiding the .40-caliber handgun on his waist, and Prescott feared being discovered.
Draper did not back off, though.
``So I just scrunched my jacket down off my shoulders and bunched it around my waist,'' Prescott recalls. ``Then, I untucked my shirt to help cover the gun.''
Satisfied that no one had anything to hide, Draper passed around a copy of his demand letter and offered to answer questions. He even told hostages they could smoke if they wanted.
``I told him my cigarettes are in my car and asked if I could go get them,'' DeHaan says. ``Everyone laughed except him.''
The levity did not last long. Draper quickly shut off the discussion.
``His eyes were wild looking,'' Johnson recalls.
Dillon briefly thought about trying to lighten the moment by asking Draper if he was related to a family he knew in Ely. He held his tongue.
``I didn't want to upset him,'' Dillon reasons. ``Besides, I heard his Southern accent and knew he wasn't from Nevada.''
Savage, meanwhile, looked around the room and realized that, with the blinds closed, a police sharpshooter would have no chance of hitting the man holding the trigger to a bomb.
A FLAW IN THE BOMB
Draper told Page to peek through the blinds to see if the police had arrived. She was heartened to see SWAT team members around the room's windows. But when she informed Draper, he got angry.
``He told Michael [Greer] to call the station and tell them [the police] to get back,'' Page remembers.
The next time she looked outside the room, the officers in black were gone. But she could see their reflections in the metal escalators.
``I lied and told him I couldn't see anybody,'' Page says. ``It was what he wanted to hear.''
Allison's brother leads Los Angeles County's special operations team so she knew the officers still were there.
``Those guys were probably hanging from the walls with listening devices,'' Allison says. ``They don't leave, go have coffee and talk about getting kicked out.''
Prescott used the distractions to sneak looks at the bomb, and his furtive glances bothered other hostages. They remember Draper ordering Prescott to stop staring.
``I thought Prescott was a jerk,'' Black says. ``He wasn't listening and Draper was getting agitated.''
The homemade bomb was made with more than 100 lead balls glued to a can of gunpowder. The curling-iron switch was wired to two 9-volt batteries, and would ignite if Draper let go of the iron.
Prescott was focused on devising a plan to save the hostages if Draper started shooting. Finally, he noticed a flaw: The wires on the curling iron were loose.
``I wasn't sure if it would go off,'' Prescott says. ``If it did, I hoped the other hostages would be able to get below the table. That way, the bomb would only take out me and Draper. Or he would shoot me.''
Yet Draper also noticed the loose wires. The gunman ordered Greer to rip off tape so he could repair it. Greer says he momentarily thought about grabbing the curling iron, and noticed that Draper was watching him from the corner of his eye.
``I felt like he was daring me to do it,'' Greer says. ``It was like he could read my mind.''
After tightening the loose wires, Draper leaned back and bellowed a sinister laugh.
``That chilled the hell out of me,'' Greer says. ``It was like he was saying I had the chance but missed it.''
`DON'T GET CHUMMY'
Draper did not like looking into the eyes of the hostages, so he made them sit with their backs to him. Johnson and Black had to get out of their chairs and sit on the far end of the table.
DeHaan dozed off. Dillon prayed. Savage meditated.
De la Cruz read her philosophy book. Johnson, who was supposed to play basketball that day, wondered if he would get out in time to meet his friends.
Black tired of hearing the songs Draper dictated to KLZX, and asked if the hostages could make requests.
``He thought that was a great idea,'' Black says.
Greer requested the Beatles' ``Hey Jude'' and asked DJs to play more of the gunman's favorite tunes.
``I was trying to suck up,'' Greer explains. ``He didn't like that and told me, `Don't get chummy.' ''
DeHaan's nap was interrupted by a pain in her belly: She had to go to the bathroom.
``I had this huge glass of orange juice that morning,'' she recalls. ``He said to get a garbage can and go in the corner. I decided to wait.''
Draper soon decided he had to use the bathroom, too. But it would not be easy while holding a gun in one hand and a bomb switch in the other.
Draper ordered Page to tie one of Black's hands to his trousers so the BYU student could not grab the gun or the curling iron. Black then was forced to unzip Draper's pants and help him urinate into a garbage can.
Ultimately, DeHaan also had to have relief. She stood up and announced, ``I am ready.'' But Draper did not hear her. And as she moved toward the door, he leveled the gun at her head.
``He said, `What the hell do you think you're doing?' '' DeHaan recalls. ``When he realized what was happening, he turned back to the table and let me do my thing.''
LOOK WHO ELSE HAS A GUN
Allison was weak. Without insulin, the diabetic knew she could slip into a coma.
``He said he would kill us if we made any sudden moves,'' she says. ``I thought if I passed out, he would pop me.''
Her body shaking, Allison told Draper she had diabetes and would not last long without medicine. He did not believe her.
``He thought it was a ploy for me to get out,'' she says. ``He started talking about death and I felt like I had made a mistake in telling him.''
Her condition worsened. Dillon and Prescott talked Draper into allowing Allison to lie down on another table. They propped up her feet and covered her with a coat.
When Prescott leaned over to comfort Allison, his shirt lifted up, exposing his handgun. Johnson's eyes widened. Prescott noticed the young man staring at the gun and froze.
``Chad could have done a lot of damage then,'' says Prescott. ``If he had panicked, it would have gotten ugly in there really fast.''
Prescott winked at Johnson, and Johnson relaxed.
``I just wondered why he hadn't pulled the trigger yet,'' says Johnson, who then positioned his body to partially block Draper's view of Prescott.
When Black's eyes next met Johnson's, Johnson made a gun with his fingers, and pointed toward Prescott. Black's heart dropped.
``Of all the people in this room, why him?'' Black recalls asking himself. ``He was the guy who couldn't obey orders. I thought there are two people who were not necessarily in their right minds -- and both have guns.''
`GET THE ROPE'
Five hours into the ordeal, Prescott decided Allison must have help.
``I asked him twice to let her go,'' Prescott recalls. ``I asked him to let all the women go. He said he would let the men go long before the women. I believed he thought the police would be less prone to enter if women were there.''
Savage could feel Prescott's intensity. She leaned over, placed a hand on his knee and whispered, ``Believe in the moment.''
Prescott wondered if she knew he was a cop.
An agitated Draper had Greer call KLZX. He yelled at DJs that his demands were not being met, adding that ``the police are testing my resolve.''
Draper announced it was time for one of the hostages to die. ``He said, `Hey, library lady, I want you to get the rope and cut it into different lengths,' '' Page recalls. ``Whoever got the short rope, he was going to shoot.''
Page got up and walked the long way around the table. ``I was stalling for time,'' she says.
Prescott patted Allison on her shoulder and said everything was going to be OK.
``I thought, `Buddy, if you think this is OK,' '' says Allison, `` `then you are nuttier than Draper.' ''
`I'M THE GOOD GUY'
Page made it halfway around the table when Draper set down his gun and leaned over to pick up the knife and rope.
Prescott drew his gun, leaped out of his chair, wheeled to his left and screamed, ``Sheriff's Office! Hit the floor!''
The booming voice shook the hostages into action. Black and Johnson crawled behind a pillar. Greer fell to the floor and covered his head. Allison rolled off her table.
``He scared the crap out of me,'' Allison says.
``I wanted to move people,'' Prescott explains. ``I wanted to shake them back into their senses. I was just afraid they wouldn't get below the table before the bomb went off.''
Draper bolted upright and reached for his gun. Prescott fired four shots into him in less than two seconds, knocking him out of the chair. Draper dropped the deadman's switch. But he had wrapped duct tape too tight for the wires to connect, and the bomb did not explode.
Hostages scurried for the doors as Draper reached for his gun.
``Move and your dead!'' Prescott warned.
``I'm already dead,'' Draper replied. Then he began chanting, ``Krishna. Krishna. Hare Krishna.''
Shotgun blasts shattered two conference-room windows and SWAT teams burst inside. Prescott realized he was the only person holding a gun and carefully set the weapon on a table.
``I'm the good guy,'' Prescott recalls explaining as a city officer pushed him to the floor.
Savage helped pull tables away from the doors and ran to freedom, ignoring the SWAT teams dressed in black.
``In my mind, Draper was alive and like the Terminator,'' she says of the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie character. ``He would be coming back. I looked for his feet.''
Dillon crawled so fast he wore holes in the knees of his brown slacks. He sat down and cried for five minutes.
Greer and de la Cruz huddled in a stairwell as police rushed into the room. Greer collapsed into her arms.
``I realized then how scared Michael really was,'' says de la Cruz.
Paramedics put Draper on a stretcher, but he died 15 minutes later at LDS Hospital.
Although one officer was furious at medics for not first taking care of Allison, she refused help after getting her insulin injection and a Coke.
`I WANT TO GO HOME'
After spending 5 1/2 hours with Clifford Draper, the last thing hostages wanted to do was go over every detail with police. ``It took forever,'' says de la Cruz. ``I just wanted to go home.''
When Johnson finally was released, he and his friends went dancing.
``I wanted to do something physical since I didn't get to play basketball,'' he says. ``I wanted the music to block out my thoughts.''
Savage spent the evening drinking wine with friends. She also made it to another ceremony with the Tibetan monks. And during an intermission, the monks called her backstage to honor her bravery.
Black went home and had breakfast.
``My mom, sister and I pulled out some bowls and cereal when we got home,'' he says. ``We like to eat cereal.''
Prescott and two of his best friends drove around the Salt Lake Valley for hours. They talked, laughed and tried to forget the lunatic gunman.
FEARS AND TRIUMPHS
A year later, Greer still is haunted by nightmares. He fights depression. And he has no patience, especially with slow drivers on the freeway.
``I can't stand wasted time,'' he says. ``I have had the feeling of having only a few seconds left in life.''
Page returned to work two days after the siege. She walked into the director's office and asked for the key to the conference room.
``I knew I had to go back into that room for my own sanity,'' she says. Now the incident only pops into her mind when someone asks about it.
Prescott cannot forget. He has been inundated with every award given to police officers for bravery -- including one from President Clinton.
Only one of the officer's mementos hangs on his office wall. Savage, who lives in Prescott, Ariz., sent him a picture with these words:
``Believe in the moment.''