Terror in Patriot’s Clothing: The Story of Tim McVeigh and the Oklahoma City Bombing
35:09 Share

On April 19th, 1995, around 9:02 AM, a bomb went off in Oklahoma City. A Ryder rental truck packed with 4,800 pounds of homemade explosives obliterated the nine-story Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. An estimated 646 people were inside.

141 civilians, 19 children, and 8 federal agents were killed that day. It was the deadliest act of terrorism in US history until September 11th, 2001. At the time, people assumed foreign entities or hostile governments had something to do with it. It was the Nazis, the Japanese, the Middle East or North Korea. It had to be.

All those theories were proven wrong 90 minutes later when Oklahoma Highway Patrolman Charlie Hanger pulled over a vehicle for driving without a front license plate. The 27-year-old driver was forthcoming about the gun in his waistband. He had a concealed carry permit from Arizona that wasn't legal in Oklahoma.

Trooper Hanger pulled him from the car and arrested him for the gun and driving without a front plate. That's when Hanger noticed the man's t-shirt. There was a picture of Abraham Lincoln on the front with the phrase "Sic semper tyrannis" Latin for "Thus always to tyrants." It's what John Wilkes Booth allegedly said after shooting the president. On the back was a picture of a bleeding tree with another political quote.

This time, it came from Thomas Jefferson. The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. The driver was Timothy McVeigh, an extremist and white supremacist who perpetrated the worst case of domestic terrorism the United States had ever seen.

The OKC bomber wasn't some Russian agent or Islamic extremist. They were homegrown in middle America and fed up with the federal government. But what pushed McVeigh to commit such a heinous act? Did he want to live in infamy? Or did he truly think he was leading a revolution? Tim McVeigh was born in the sleepy little town of Lockport, New York, about 30 miles northeast of Buffalo.

His parents fell victim to what some called the divorce revolution. William McVeigh said his marriage ended due to a difference in style. Tim's mother, Mildred, thought William was too domesticated. His idea of a Friday night was pizza and a ball game. She'd wind up at bars and restaurants alone. What she did there was her business. In 1978, McVeigh's mother packed her bags and left.

At 10 years old, Tim moved with his father to Pendleton, New York, only a few towns over. Pendleton was smaller and less densely populated. Long stretches of farmland separated each white Christian conservative family. McVeigh grew up in a bubble of strict values. He fell victim to bullying in school. He'd escape into his own little fantasy world where he imagined himself rallying against the bullies.

Later in life, he'd draw a line between the kids in school and the US government. To Tim, the United States was the ultimate bully. Pendleton was a region of hunting enthusiasts. William McVeigh was the outlier. He'd only bought one gun in his life, a shotgun when he was 19. But when little Tim asked for a .22 caliber rifle to go hunting with grandpa, William caved. Tim took his new rifle into the thick woods for target practice.

He eventually bought a semi-automatic BB gun that could shoot 15 rounds with one trigger pull. All the other boys had measly, single-shot BB guns. Tim liked to show off while his classmates doodled in class. Tim drew sketches of guns. He'd bring his firearms to school at a time when kids would show them off instead of shooting each other.

he became obsessed with the Second Amendment. He evolved into a survivalist who began stockpiling food and equipment. Classmates say he was worried about nuclear war or a communist takeover. Tim saw himself as a true patriot, a righteous defender of the US Constitution. Tim came of age during hard economic times. Blue-collar work was getting harder to find. Most jobs were shipped overseas to China.

Steel and auto plants either shut down or downsized dramatically. Banks crashed. Real estate spiraled out of control. The Harrison Radiator Plant, the largest blue-collar employer in the area, stopped hiring in 1979. William McVeigh was grandfathered in, but Tim wasn't given a chance. At home, plant employees, including William, would talk about the country losing its way.

Jobs were disappearing. The American dream was dead and the government wasn't helping. According to William, "There were no jobs around here unless you want to work for $6 an hour or less at a McDonald's or Wendy's." College may have been McVeigh's ticket to a better paying job. While it worked for 90% of his classmates, Tim stayed behind.

He took a job driving an armored truck and delivering money to banks and businesses. The job was boring, but he loved it for two reasons. He got to wear a uniform and carry a gun. One day, Tim came to work looking like Pancho Villa with bandoliers draped over his chest. He owned an AR-15, several handguns, and a semi-auto Desert Eagle that was so large, he struggled to wrap his bony hands around it.

Politically, Tim kept his opinions to himself. The only time he spoke politics was when he opened his paycheck. He always complained that the government was taking too much in taxes, something we can all empathize with. Tim could still buy a $7,000 plot of land south of Buffalo with his high school buddy, David Darlak. David's mother believed they bought it as an investment. The boys used it as their personal hunting grounds. They'd shoot off guns at all hours of the night.

One local remembers hearing explosives going off that rocked the entire valley. On the outside, Tim was having fun. On the inside, he felt trapped. He'd vent his frustrations to his father, saying he felt like he wasn't going anywhere. He complained about being unemployable. The only jobs he could land paid no money, in his words. America was letting him down. William saw his son at a crossroads. Perhaps some structure would be good for him.

He suggested Tim join the army, just like he and his buddies did when they were teenagers. Tim chomped at the bit and joined a week later, albeit for the wrong reasons. When asked why he joined so quickly, he said, I always wanted to carry an M16. This episode is brought to you by Acorns. Imagine if every purchase you made could help build your financial future effortlessly. Thanks to Acorns, this

This is possible. Acorns makes it easy to start automatically saving and investing for you, your kids, and your retirement. You don't need a lot of money or expertise to invest with Acorns. In fact, you can get started with just your spare change. Acorns recommends an expert-built portfolio that fits you and your money goals, then automatically invests your money for you. And now, Acorns is putting their money into your future.

Open an Acorns Later IRA and get up to a 3% match on new contributions. That's extra money for your retirement. It's easy, stress-free, and in my honest opinion, a smart move. Start small, dream big, and let Acorns guide your financial future. Head to acorns.com slash crimehub or download the Acorns app to start saving and investing for your future today.

Part two is what you sow. Charles Bond is a forensic psychologist from John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York. He's made a career studying the psyche of terrorists like Tim McVeigh.

He said, "A kid from the heart of America who feels society has let him down can be very dangerous. In urban America, gangs fill this void. In the Midwest, it's cults, the macho gun world, militias, and belonging to fringe groups." But in his early 20s, McVeigh found comfort and structure in the US Army. He attended basic training and transferred to Fort Benning in Georgia.

During his free time, McVeigh learned all he could about sniper rifles, special tactics, and explosives. He did get in trouble for buying a white power t-shirt at a Ku Klux Klan rally. The army is where he met Terry Nichols, his future co-bomber.

They came from similar backgrounds. Both were obsessed with guns and survivalism. At Fort Riley in Junction City, Kansas, they met Michael Fortier, the final piece of the Triad. Nichols grew up on a farm in Lapeer, Michigan, about 60 miles north of Detroit. Distrusting and resenting the government was a common threat in his hometown. Bank foreclosures seized several farms in the 1980s, putting the people of Lapeer out of work.

But Terry saw himself as too smart for farm life. The only aspect he enjoyed was watching his father blow up tree stumps. He used a simple mixture of oil and fertilizer to detonate the stumps and use them for firewood. Terry took notice.

McVeigh was deadly with a 25mm cannon, also known as the M242 Bushmaster chain gun. It was designed to take out armored vehicles and light tanks from over 6,000 feet away. In other words, it was the biggest gun McVeigh got to shoot during Operation Desert Storm. He once bragged about hitting an Iraqi tank over 500 yards away.

His marksmanship apparently forced an entire platoon of Iraqi soldiers to surrender on his first day. On another occasion, he allegedly decapitated an Iraqi soldier with his 25 millimeter from over 1100 yards away. Those stories are according to McVey.

what we can confirm are his service awards. He received a Bronze Star awarded for heroic achievement and service, the National Defense Service Medal, which everyone gets who serves between 1950 and 2022, the Southwest Asia Service Medal awarded to those who served in the Persian Gulf War,

and the Kuwait Liberation Medal, created by the King of Saudi Arabia to award those who aided in the liberation of Kuwait. Tim had bigger army dreams. He wanted to serve in the US Special Forces. You might know them as Green Berets. In April of 1991, McVeigh was one of 200 recruits to arrive at Fort Bragg, North Carolina for an arduous 21-day assessment.

recruits had to endure a plethora of physical and psychological tests. One involved swimming 50 meters in full battle dress. In another, recruits had to march for 90 minutes while wearing a 45-pound rucksack. As one of the youngest recruits, McVeigh simply wasn't ready. He dropped out after the second day. He claims he injured his ankle and was unable to continue. In a letter to his superiors, McVeigh wrote,

"I am not physically ready." And the rucksack march hurt more than it should. McVeigh was honorably discharged on New Year's Eve, 1991. He moved back with his father and got a job working security for a Department of Defense research facility. A spokesman for the facility said McVeigh was a model employee. They were about to give him a supervisor position, but he quit. McVeigh's resentment for the government got deeper by the day.

He was convinced they planted a chip in his rear end to track him after the army. He also wrote several letters complaining about high taxes. In one letter, Tim wrote: "Taxes are a joke, regardless of what a political candidate promises. Do we have to shed blood to reform the current system? I hope it doesn't come to that, but it might."

At the same time, McVeigh was getting more concerned with the Second Amendment and civil liberties. He wrote New York Representative John J. LaFalse complaining about a woman who was arrested for carrying mace. It is a lie if we tell ourselves that the police can protect us everywhere at all times. Firearms restrictions are bad enough, but now a woman can't even carry mace in her purse?

Tim joined and then quit the National Rifle Association, believing they were too weak on gun rights. In the early 90s, he joined Terry Nichols on a family ranch in Michigan. He worked dead-end jobs and racked up some gambling debt. He took out loans to repay those debts and then defaulted on the repayments. One day, he got a letter from the government saying he was overpaid by $1,058 while in the army and had to return it.

As you can imagine, Tim didn't appreciate that. A thousand bucks was everything he had. In 1993, McVeigh found his calling. Between February 28th and April 19th, a bloody and controversial standoff occurred between the US government and the Branch Davidians at Waco, Texas.

The Davidians, led by cult leader David Koresh, was alleged to have a stockpile of illegal weapons. The ATF obtained a search warrant to go in. Then all hell broke loose. The Waco siege divided the nation over gun rights. Some, like Tim McVeigh, believe the government overstepped its bounds and infringed on the Davidians' Second Amendment rights. Others believe the Davidians were planning something. Why else have all those weapons on hand?

To them, it was better to nip it in the bud before it became a real problem. Part 3: Boiling Point The Waco siege attracted a crowd. About three miles from the standoff, McVeigh stood with other white supremacists on a hill overlooking Mount Carmel. While the Branch Davidians were not white supremacists, sections of the far right empathized with their struggle over gun rights.

McVeigh was already hopped up on the events at Ruby Ridge, an 11-day standoff between the Weaver family, their friend Kevin Harris, and U.S. Marshals in Boundary County, Idaho. The Weavers and Harris were survivalists and self-proclaimed white supremacists. It all began when the FBI investigated claims that Randy Weaver was planning to kill the Pope and President Reagan.

As they dug, informants came forward claiming the Weavers were stockpiling weapons, much like the Branch Davidians. And, like Waco, the aftermath was riddled with controversy. McVeigh believed the government was overstepping their bounds regarding the Second Amendment. It was only a matter of time before they came for him too.

he stood on the hill, selling pro-gun bumper stickers and passing out reading material. In the following months, McVeigh traveled to gun shows nationwide, passing out his books and bumper stickers. Things took a personal turn when he began handing out business cards with a name and person's address printed on them. Lon Haruchi was a member of the FBI's hostage rescue team.

After his involvement at Ruby Ridge and Waco, he became a target for gun rights fanatics like McVeigh. It's a little ironic considering Lon Haruchi was a well-trained sniper. Though that's not to absolve Haruchi of any alleged wrongdoing. At Ruby Ridge, he fired the shot that killed Vicki Weaver while she was holding her 10-month-old child. As the story goes, Lon fired two shots that day.

The first was a sanctioned shoot-to-kill bullet that was supposed to hit Randy Weaver in the spine, but Randy moved at the last second, and the bullet struck his shoulder. As Randy and Harris ran toward their cabin, Lon fired another shot that wounded Harris as well, but the bullet passed through Harris and killed Randy's wife, Vicky.

An investigation concluded that Lan's second shot was not legal. The surviving members of the Weaver family won $3.1 million in a wrongful death lawsuit against the US government. Lan was eventually charged with manslaughter, but the case was dismissed on September 14th, 2001.

At Waco, Lon was part of Sierra One, an FBI sniper team stationed in front of the Mount Carmel compound. There were rumors that Lon was the one shooting at the Branch Davidians. The government claims it was the other way around. Today, the Sierra One gunshots are among the hottest controversies surrounding the Waco siege. McVeigh hated Lon Haruchi with every fiber of his being. He wrote hate mail suggesting what goes around comes around.

In fact, McVeigh's original plan was to carry out several high-level assassinations. He wanted to go after Attorney General Janet Reno, Judge Walter S. Smith Jr., who handled the Waco trial, and Lon Haruchi as revenge for killing Vicki Weaver. By now, McVeigh was living with Michael Fortier in Arizona. He was paranoid of nuclear war and avoided places he considered likely areas for a nuclear attack.

But Mike got into weed and methamphetamine, which caused a rift in their relationship. While McVeigh tried drugs to see what they were like, he never liked them. In April of 1993, McVeigh moved in with his old friend, Terry Nichols. There, Tim learned how to make deadly explosives with household chemicals and a few plastic jugs. He and Terry were also obsessed with Waco and convinced the government was covering something up.

He hated the government more and more every day. It didn't help when President Clinton signed the federal assault weapons ban in 1994. McVeigh saw it as a personal affront. In a letter to a childhood friend, McVeigh wrote:

Around this time, McVeigh and Nichols began stockpiling ammonium nitrate and agricultural fertilizer to resell to other survivalists.

There were rumors that the government was preparing to ban both items because of their use in DIY bombs. McVeigh wasn't taking any chances. He had an evil plot in the works. He was going to single-handedly overthrow the government or die trying. Part four, leading a revolution.

McVeigh told very few people about his plans. According to Dan Herbeck, one of McVeigh's eventual biographers, Tim told Nichols about the plot, but Nichols initially refused to participate. McVeigh liked saying how his plan had moved out of the propaganda phase and into the action phase. In a letter to a friend in Michigan, he wrote, "I have certain other militant talents that are in short supply and greatly demanded."

He teetered between targeted assassinations and blowing up a federal building, ultimately deciding on the latter. Blowing up a building would be a louder statement, figuratively and literally. But what building would he target? McVeigh had strict criteria. The building had to house at least two federal law enforcement agencies: the ATF, DEA, and FBI.

He considered it a bonus if the building also housed US Marshals and Secret Service members. To his credit, McVeigh wanted to limit the number of non-governmental casualties. That's why he declined to target the 40-story Simmons Tower in Little Rock, Arkansas. There was a florist's shop that occupied space on the first floor.

In December of 1994, McVeigh and Fortier drove to Oklahoma City to inspect his latest target, the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. The nine-story building housed 14 federal agencies, including the ATF, DEA, and Social Security Administration. He believed the glass windows would easily shatter after the blast.

The open parking lot would also limit collateral damage to nearby buildings. But, most importantly, the open space in front of the building would provide better photo opportunities for propaganda. He planned the attack for April 19th, 1995, the second anniversary of Waco and the 220th anniversary of the Battle of Lexington and Concord.

McVeigh saw himself as a patriot, a revolutionary on par with George Washington and Paul Revere. Sparking a revolution doesn't come cheap. McVeigh and Nichols bought what they could, but stole most of their weapons and bomb-making parts. For example, the duo bought 40 50-pound bags of ammonium nitrate fertilizer in Kansas. That's enough to cover 12.5 acres of farmland, and that's assuming you're generous on the fertilizer.

Next, McVeigh and Nichols robbed a gun collector named Roger Moore, not to be confused with the James Bond actor. They made off with $60,000 worth of gold, silver, jewels, and firearms. They even stole Mr. Moore's van. McVeigh began drawing up his plans in October. He showed Mike and Laurie Fortier a bomb diagram containing 5,000 pounds of ammonium nitrate.

1,200 pounds of liquid nitromethane, and 350 pounds of Trovex, a water gel explosive that's safer to make than dynamite. Together with 16 55-gallon drums, the bomb would weigh about 7,000 pounds. He wanted to add a little rocket fuel like a cherry on top, but it was too expensive and impossible to steal. McVeigh checked into the Dreamland Motel in Junction City, Kansas on April 14th, 1995.

The next day, he rented a truck from Ryder Rentals under the alias Robert Kling. He liked the name because it reminded him of the Klingon warriors from Star Trek. Next, E and Nichols drove into Oklahoma City where they parked their getaway car, a yellow 1977 Mercury Marquis, several blocks from the Murrah building. They removed the license plate and left a note conveniently covering the car's VIN.

The note read, "Not abandoned. Please do not tow. We will move by April 23rd. Needs battery and cable." He and Nichols hopped back in their GMC pickup and drove back to Kansas to build their bomb. They built the bomb inside the van. Then, McVeigh rigged fuses under the driver's seat and into the cab. As a failsafe, he also rigged some explosives behind his seat.

If the main fuse failed, he could simply shoot the backup bomb, killing himself while igniting the whole thing. Altogether, the bomb cost them $5,000 to make, or just over $10,000 as of 2023. On April 19th, 1995, McVeigh entered Oklahoma City around 8:50 a.m. Security cameras at the Regency Towers apartment complex captured the Ryder truck driving by.

Those same cameras caught them dropping off the getaway car three days prior. McVeigh lit a five-minute fuse a few blocks away from the Murrah building. He lit another two-minute fuse moments before parking the truck. Unbeknownst to him, he parked the truck underneath the building's daycare center. There were 15 children inside at the time, some as young as 15 months old. McVeigh locked the truck, tossed the keys, and headed for his getaway vehicle.

McVeigh's bomb went off at 9:02 AM. It obliterated the north side of the Murrah building, killed 168 people, and wounded hundreds more. The blast destroyed or damaged 324 other buildings within a four-block radius. Shattered glass accounted for 5% of the death toll and 69% of injuries inside the Murrah building. While the blast killed many victims, most died after being crushed under falling debris.

The bomb was equivalent to 5,000 pounds of TNT going off at once. Seismometers in Oklahoma City and 16 miles away in Norman, Oklahoma recorded the explosion as a 3.0 magnitude earthquake. Immediately, the FBI turned its attention toward international terrorists. Nobody suspected that the worst act of terrorism pre-9/11 could have been committed by a self-proclaimed patriot.

Part 5: The Death of a Patriot By some miracle, the FBI recovered a fragment of McVeigh's rental van that still had the full VIN intact. They traced it to the Ryder Rental in Junction City, Kansas, where workers helped the FBI trace a rough sketch of the renter. When they showed the sketch to Leigh McGowan, the then-manager of the Dreamland Motel where McVeigh was staying, she recognized him immediately.

Little did they know their primary suspect was sitting in a holding cell in Perry, Oklahoma. The arresting officer, State Trooper Charles J. Hanger, had made the most important arrest of the century.

McVeigh's trial was a circus. Every reporter from LA to Boston wanted an exclusive interview. Two reporters from Buffalo were lucky enough to get the scoop. Those reporters were Lou Michelle and Dan Herbeck, the soon-to-be authors of American Terrorist, Timothy McVeigh and the Oklahoma City Bombing.

Among the first questions they asked was if Tim felt remorse for the babies and children he killed. Surely, they have nothing to do with the actions of a tyrannical government?

McVeigh simply considered them collateral damage. He assumed some employees may have brought their kids to work, but had he known he parked his bomb underneath a daycare center, it might have given him pause to switch targets, he told them. On August 10th, 1995, the federal government indicted McVeigh on 11 counts, including eight counts of first degree murder and conspiracy to use a weapon of mass destruction.

Even though he killed 168, the eight murder charges represented the eight federal agents who were killed when the bomb exploded. But don't worry, prosecutors charged Terry Nichols for the other 160 murders. In June of 1997, McVeigh and Terry were found guilty on all counts. Both men were sentenced to life in prison, but only McVeigh was considered for the death penalty.

Michael Fortier agreed to testify against McVeigh and Nichols in exchange for a lesser sentence. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for failing to report the planned attack. McVeigh fought his fight until the bitter end. He wanted to use the necessity defense, which is when someone claims to have committed crimes to avoid imminent danger. For example, if you got in trouble for drunk driving, but were only driving drunk because someone was trying to kidnap you,

McVeigh believed he was an imminent danger from the US government. He argued that imminent didn't necessarily mean immediate. His bombing of the Murrah building was a justifiable response to what happened in Waco, Texas. The only person buying his crazy theories and rationale was Tim McVeigh. On June 13th, 1997, McVeigh was sentenced to death.

His final words to the court were, "The government is the potent, the omnipresent teacher. For good or for ill, it teaches the whole people by its example. That's all I have." McVeigh's sentence was delayed as the appeals process unfolded. He and Nichols were housed at Supermax Prison, a federal penitentiary in Florence, Colorado, where the worst of the worst go to die. They were kept in a special wing nicknamed Bomber's Row,

There, they befriended people like Ted Kaczynski, aka the Unabomber. In fact, Tim and Ted were good friends up until McVeigh's execution on June 11th, 2001. For his last meal, he ate two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream. At 7:14 a.m., McVeigh became the first federal prisoner executed since 1963.

By then, President Clinton had signed a new law banning veterans convicted of capital crimes from being buried in a military cemetery. McVeigh was cremated and his ashes were given to his lawyer, Nathan Chambers. When presented with the urn, Chambers said, "The final destination of McVeigh's remains would remain privileged forever." Whatever that's supposed to mean. As of 2023, Terry Nichols is still sitting on Bomber's Row at Supermax Federal Prison.

In January 2006, Michael Fortier walked out of jail after serving 10 years. His attorney, Mike McGuire said, "He really just wants to be with his wife and children to try to recover some of the lost time they didn't have."