Football Very long Read but interesting Tillman Part 1

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Bench Warmer
Early in the evening of April 22, 2004, a heavily armored vehicle in the trailing half of a split platoon came under attack from enemy fire in the rugged mountainous terrain of southeastern Afghanistan. Soldiers in a Humvee opened fire in retaliation but instead shot at fellow Rangers positioned ahead, killing Pat Tillman and an Afghan soldier standing 10 feet off Tillman's left shoulder. The former NFL safety — the Army's most celebrated volunteer — took three bullets to the forehead. Three days removed from the ambush and the ensuing firefight, it wasn't the memory of the rounds of gunshots raining clouds of rock and dust down the towering canyon walls that troubled Spc. Ryan Mansfield. It was the madness of making sense of it all.
Spc. Pat Tillman was dead.

Sitting in a crammed tent at Camp Salerno, the Army's Forward Operating Base in the province of Khowst, Afghanistan, Mansfield witnessed the raw emotion and friction in the unit as the soldiers agonized over the tragic outcome of the mission. An Army chaplain pulled up a seat. So did an Army psychiatrist as squad leaders and high-ranking officers joined the 30 or so young Rangers still fresh from their first firefight.

The soldiers in the Black Sheep platoon didn't need a tidy, bureaucratic Army inquiry to tell them what they already knew: Pat Tillman had been killed in a case of fratricide, otherwise known as friendly fire, by someone among them at the meeting.

By then, they knew that. Like Mansfield, though, many of them were struggling with how it had happened. With why it had happened. With the awful enormity of it all.

"It was emotional," said Mansfield, then 20 years old and a gunner in the vehicle that had been just in front of Tillman's, in an interview with ESPN.com. "Some people had things they said that other people didn't want to hear. It was just pretty personal. People in the second serial [the trailing half of the platoon] had a different perspective of what happened than people in the first. …"

Two years after Tillman's death, the perspectives on the circumstances are still very much at odds and the story is still very much alive. As the Defense Department Inspector General's Office nears the completion of yet another investigation into Tillman's death, many very important questions remain unanswered.

• Are the Rangers who fired at Tillman and their other fellow soldiers guilty of criminal wrongdoing?

• Why did the Army glorify Tillman's actions on the battlefield during the firefight in which he was killed?

• Did the Army purposely conceal that Tillman had been killed by friendly fire? If so, why?

• And did the Army consciously puff up the Tillman story by awarding the dead soldier a Silver Star, its third-highest distinction for combat valor, to go along with his Purple Heart and a posthumous promotion from specialist to corporal?

For reasons that remain under investigation more than two years later, the Pentagon elected for almost five weeks after the incident not to disclose the fact Tillman had been gunned down by members of his own platoon. Yet some in Tillman's unit knew the night it happened. ESPN.com found that word of the fratricide had filtered through the ranks within a day or two of Tillman's death.

Army brass calling the shots from Camp Salerno also understood what had to be, for them, the discomfiting news about the elite group of soldiers expected to live and fight by a Ranger Creed that reads, in part, "I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy, and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country." According to one of the documents obtained by ESPN.com, an Army official flown in to join the platoon the day after the shooting as part of the April 25, 2004, debriefing process told Army investigators, "I think at that point people already knew that it was a fratricide." He said, "So when I say 'people' — [I mean] leadership, okay."

In the meeting three days after Tillman's death, however, chaos and unanswered questions dominated the warm night air as Mansfield and the rest of the unit tried to understand how a Ranger — one of the soldiers who even then was with them under their tent — had killed the most famous soldier in the war. As the meeting progressed, the young men took turns pitching their piece of the big picture. Words like "bad judgment" and "panic" were tossed about. Gossip and suspicion flowed freely.


Because of the gruesome damage done to Tillman's head by the gunfire, popular theory first focused on a soldier who'd manned a .50-caliber machine gun as the likely shooter, but Army documents show that investigators later dismissed that idea. That soldier left the Army when his enlistment ended and declined several interview requests by ESPN.com.

A few of the Rangers piped up, according to two soldiers in attendance that evening, to suggest Tillman had been overly aggressive when he took his position low on the desolate ridge. In one of the Army documents, an officer assigned to observe the reaction of the Rangers during the debriefing session later told investigators, "A lot of them felt like his [Tillman's] actions that day had put himself and [Spc. Bryan O'Neal] and the Afghan soldier in peril that was unnecessary."

O'Neal, an 18-year-old soldier who had been positioned on the ridge just a few yards from Tillman during the firefight, sat quietly through most of the meeting. Eventually, though, his few, riveting words brought a hush over the assembled platoon. Another soldier at the session, Spc. Pedro Arreola, told ESPN.com that O'Neal, fighting back tears and shaking with emotion, said: "The only reason I am standing here is because Pat Tillman saved my life."

That night, O'Neal didn't detail for his fellow Rangers exactly how Tillman had saved him. But later, according to a transcript of his interview with an Army investigator, O'Neal said he'd been out in the open and under intense fire while Tillman had what O'Neal described as "pretty good cover." Tillman, O'Neal told the investigator, "wasn't really too much in danger," although the Afghan Military Forces soldier already lay off to the side, dead.

"I was watching them as they were shooting at me," O'Neal told the investigator, speaking about his fellow Rangers, "and I was watching the rounds when they were — and Pat could look around — and I was noticing that most of their fire seemed to be directed towards me. And he moved out from behind his cover to throw some smoke.…All I remember was him telling me, 'Hey, don't worry, I've got something that can help us.' And he popped a smoke [grenade], I guess, and that's when he got shot — one of the few times he got shot."

The official Army autopsy report obtained by ESPN.com shows that, besides the three bullets in his forehead, Tillman had shrapnel in his left forearm and wrist. Asked by ESPN.com to review the autopsy's findings, renowned forensic pathologist Dr. Michael Baden suggests the three bullets that struck Tillman in the head came in rapid succession, and most likely were from the weapon of a single shooter. Documents from the Army's investigations indicate the wounds likely came from American 5.56 mm or 7.62 mm rounds.

"The first bullet that struck him in the head, he was dead," Dr. Baden told ESPN.com. "Then he was struck by two additional bullets, because of the rapid fire of the weapon that was used. He also may have been shot by other weapons in the arm and vest. This would indicate that … more than one person was firing at him."

The previous investigations under Army regulation 15-6, which establishes procedures for such inquiries, concluded that a trio of young Rangers was following the initial fire of their squad leader, Sgt. Greg Baker, as the soldiers were trained to do. But none of those official inquiries identified who squeezed the trigger on the fatal shots.

Baden, though, suspects that enough ballistics evidence remained for the Army to have pinpointed the shooter, even though key evidence such as Tillman's uniform and body armor was destroyed within three days of his death. Baden also said X-rays could have been used to identify the path the bullets took through Tillman's head, but the results were not included in the autopsy report. And neither was mention of a hole in Tillman's leg discovered by a soldier who helped carry the body down the hillside.

"They should be able to figure out where the bullets came from, from the trajectory analysis, and whose weapon they came from, from microscopic ballistic comparison," said Baden, chief forensic pathologist for the New York State Police and a frequent consultant in high-profile murder cases. "The person who fired probably knows who he is. I think the supervisors know who the shooter or shooters were, but they're not releasing it."

According to the Army officer who directed the first official inquiry, the Army might have more of a clue about the shooter's identity than it has let on. Asked whether ballistics work was done to identify who fired the fatal shots, Lt. Col. Ralph Kauzlarich told ESPN.com, "I think, yeah, they did. And I think they know [who fired]. But I never found out."

Mansfield and other Rangers who attended the post-incident meeting said — both in interviews with ESPN.com and in documents from the Army investigations — they were advised by debriefers that night that the unit as a whole bore the responsibility for Tillman's death and they should avoid placing blame on any one person.
 
In his interview with ESPN.com, Kauzlarich also said he was not driven to identify Tillman's killer.

"You know what? I don't think it really matters," Kauzlarich said. "And the reason I say that — you got to look at the overall situation here that these guys were fighting in. And somebody hit him. So would you hold that guy [who] hit him responsible for hitting him, when everybody was shooting in that direction, given the situation? We'll see how the [Defense Department Inspector General's] investigation comes out. But I had no issue on not finding a specific person responsible for doing it."

Kauzlarich said he is confident the current probe will not result in criminal charges against the shooter or shooters. He said investigators would not still be examining the incident at all if it were not for Tillman's NFL celebrity — he walked away from a multimillion-dollar contract with the Arizona Cardinals when he enlisted — and the pressure brought to bear by Tillman's family on a number of Washington politicos.

"His parents continue to ask for it to be looked at," Kauzlarich said. "And that is really their prerogative. And if they have the right backing, the right powerful people in our government to continue to let it happen, then that is the case.

"But there [have] been numerous unfortunate cases of fratricide, and the parents have basically said, 'OK, it was an unfortunate accident.' And they let it go. So this is — I don't know, these people have a hard time letting it go. It may be because of their religious beliefs."

In a transcript of his interview with Brig. Gen. Gary Jones during a November 2004 investigation, Kauzlarich said he'd learned Kevin Tillman, Pat's brother and fellow Army Ranger who was a part of the battle the night Pat Tillman died, objected to the presence of a chaplain and the saying of prayers during a repatriation ceremony in Germany before his brother's body was returned to the United States.

Kauzlarich, now a battalion commanding officer at Fort Riley in Kansas, further suggested the Tillman family's unhappiness with the findings of past investigations might be because of the absence of a Christian faith in their lives.

In an interview with ESPN.com, Kauzlarich said: "When you die, I mean, there is supposedly a better life, right? Well, if you are an atheist and you don't believe in anything, if you die, what is there to go to? Nothing. You are worm dirt. So for their son to die for nothing, and now he is no more — that is pretty hard to get your head around that. So I don't know how an atheist thinks. I can only imagine that that would be pretty tough."

Asked by ESPN.com whether the Tillmans' religious beliefs are a factor in the ongoing investigation, Kauzlarich said, "I think so. There is not a whole lot of trust in the system or faith in the system [by the Tillmans]. So that is my personal opinion, knowing what I know."

Asked what might finally placate the family, Kauzlarich said, "You know what? I don't think anything will make them happy, quite honestly. I don't know. Maybe they want to see somebody's head on a platter. But will that really make them happy? No, because they can't bring their son back."

Kauzlarich, now 40, was the Ranger regiment executive officer in Afghanistan, who played a role in writing the recommendation for Tillman's posthumous Silver Star. And finally, with his fingerprints already all over many of the hot-button issues, including the question of who ordered the platoon to be split as it dragged a disabled Humvee through the mountains, Kauzlarich conducted the first official Army investigation into Tillman's death.

That investigation is among the inquiries that didn't satisfy the Tillman family.

"Well, this guy makes disparaging remarks about the fact that we're not Christians, and the reason that we can't put Pat to rest is because we're not Christians," Mary Tillman, Pat's mother, said in an interview with ESPN.com. Mary Tillman casts the family as spiritual, though she said it does not believe in many of the fundamental aspects of organized religion.

"Oh, it has nothing to do with the fact that this whole thing is shady," she said sarcastically, "But it is because we are not Christians."

After a pause, her voice full with emotion, she added, "Pat may not have been what you call a Christian. He was about the best person I ever knew. I mean, he was just a good guy. He didn't lie. He was very honest. He was very generous. He was very humble. I mean, he had an ego, but it was a healthy ego. It is like, everything those [people] are, he wasn't."

Though rarely for public consumption, the Tillman family has continued to try to push through layers of Army bureaucracy for answers, about both the death of their son and the appearance that Pat Tillman's Army life, and death, might have been used for political purposes.

Were the Army and/or the White House so desperate for a positive spin that they morphed Tillman into a male version of Jessica Lynch, the Army private from West Virginia who was foisted into the spotlight early in the Iraq War during the march to Baghdad? The Pentagon initially portrayed Lynch as fighting until the last bullet was fired before she was wounded and captured. Only later was it learned that she had been injured when her vehicle crashed and she had been knocked unconscious. In her authorized biography, "I Am a Soldier, Too," she said she never fired a shot.

Tillman's Silver Star suggests the possibility of a similar spin. According to military records, 45 Silver Stars for gallantry have been awarded to soldiers for their heroism during the war in Afghanistan. An Army official told ESPN.com that Tillman's is the only one of those 45 that involved friendly fire. Although involved in the writing of Tillman's Silver Star application, Kauzlarich said the medals are "typically not" awarded in such cases.

"I mean, had the story come out that he had been killed by his own guys, then it probably would have been looked at differently," Kauzlarich said.

Army documents and statements given by witnesses during the Army's investigations indicate top officials already suspected fratricide when Tillman's Silver Star application was crafted. According to the transcript of his statement, Tillman's company commander, Capt. William Saunders acknowledged providing the information needed for Tillman's Silver Star recommendation, stating that before submission, "We became aware that his death was a possible fratricide." During a separate interview with investigators, Saunders said he arriving at the scene of the battle early the following morning — April 23, 2004 — and being informed fratricide was suspected.

Though two other Rangers were wounded in the incident, no one else on the battlefield that day was awarded a Silver Star.

Partly for that reason, the Army could be in for an embarrassing PR hit when the Defense Department Inspector General's Office releases its findings after an almost yearlong review of the events surrounding Tillman's death. That could come perhaps as early as September — the start of another NFL season. The IG's Office initiated its current inquiry after determining the three earlier military investigations, including the one by Kauzlarich, failed to fully address concerns and allegations raised by the Tillman family as well as by Washington politicians.

In a March 23, 2006, letter to Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, a copy of which was obtained by ESPN.com, Reps. Michael Honda (D-Calif.), Dennis Kucinich (D-Ohio), Ike Skelton (D-Mo.) and Christopher Shays (R-Conn.) wrote: "The Army…should have a shared interest in determining whether Army officials covered up the true facts regarding Corporal Tillman's death." To that end, the lawmakers suggest congressional hearings ultimately might be convened to delve into the matter.

Both the White House and Rumsfeld's office declined comment for this story. Through spokesman Hollen J. Wheeler, the secretary of defense turned down the opportunity to address ESPN.com's questions about the Tillman situation e-mailed to his office.

The Army, too, isn't eager to discuss publicly either the specifics of the battle in which Tillman was killed or the events and investigations that have taken place since. ESPN.com e-mailed a series of questions about Tillman's death to the Department of the Army. Paul Boyce, the Army's deputy director of public affairs, cited the ongoing investigation as a reason for declining to respond.

In some cases, it appears the Army has tried to discourage the soldiers who fought with Tillman from speaking about how he died. Some of the Rangers contacted by ESPN.com said they were told that a nondisclosure agreement they signed upon entering the regiment precludes them from talking about the incident. Others told ESPN.com that a confidentiality agreement they signed upon leaving the Rangers prohibits them from discussing classified information. Notices also have been posted around Fort Lewis advising soldiers not to talk about the Tillman incident with the media, according to a Ranger from Tillman's platoon who was stationed there.

O'Neal, the Ranger alongside Tillman when he was killed, told ESPN.com, "I've been advised not to talk by my superiors — people that control me."
 
However, with the help of a number of other Rangers who were willing to talk about the firefight, along with documents from the Army's investigations, ESPN.com has been able to reconstruct the events leading up to and including the battle scene.

On the morning of April 21, 2004, a day before Tillman was gunned down, a failed fuel pump on a ground mobility vehicle — Army jargon for a Humvee — brought the Ranger platoon to a halt as it searched for Taliban and al-Qaida fighters. Another pump was flown in by helicopter that night, but according to an Army synopsis of one of the investigations, it didn't fix the problem.

The Army's elite fighting group — 35 soldiers in 11 vehicles — pulled out from their camp, towing the broken-down Humvee. The Rangers had no tow bar, so they improvised with straps. A few hours later, the Humvee's front end gave out near the village of Magarah and the Ranger convoy stopped.

Lt. David Uthlaut, the leader of the Black Sheep platoon, radioed for help to have the $50,000 Humvee airlifted out by a Chinook cargo helicopter to end the delay, according to several documents from the Army investigation led by Jones. Uthlaut was told, according to the documents, that it would be three or four days until the helicopter would be available. And he was told he could not abandon the vehicle along the roadside or blow it up to keep it out of the hands of Afghan insurgents.

Back at the Camp Salerno base, Saunders, the company commander, ordered the platoon to be split. The Humvee, accompanied by 19 Rangers in five vehicles, was to be towed by a local driver to a designated "recovery point" on a road that branched off to the north, where it was to be retrieved by an Army wrecker. According to the plan, the platoon was then to reunite and hit its objectives the next morning, raiding nearby villages to look for weapons and high-value targets.

Had the platoon stayed together, it's possible the friendly-fire incident might not have happened. According to the November 2004 interview transcript of an officer involved in one of the Army's investigations, "The results that caused Corporal Tillman's death really had nothing to do with splitting that [platoon] up…" But the officer continues his sentence with, "…except for that the converging forces killed him."

After a six- to seven-hour layover in Magarah, the Rangers paid a local driver $120 to pull the crippled vehicle along the mountainous roads with his "jinga truck," a large, colorful rig used to cart everything from livestock to shrubs.

But 10 or 15 minutes after the now-split platoon's first unit — which comprised Pat Tillman, 15 other Rangers and four AMF soldiers in six vehicles — had left, the jinga truck driver, who had become part of the second unit, deemed the road to the chosen recovery point to be too treacherous. He began to follow the path of the first unit toward the village of Manah. In the deep canyon, the two groups temporarily lost radio contact with each other.

It was early evening, close to 6:45. Daylight was waning along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, though it wasn't quite dark enough for night vision goggles. Suddenly, small arms fire from Afghan insurgents rained down from high atop a ridge, and an explosion rocked the floor of the canyon near where the second serial was traveling. The Rangers still in the canyon had no place to hide.

Making matters worse, when the trailing convoy, including the disabled Humvee and the jinga truck, was caught in the ambush, the non-English-speaking jinga driver was out in front of the Army's elite soldiers. According to the transcripts of statements given by several witnesses, the jinga truck initially blocked the convoy's escape route through the canyon. Kevin Tillman was in the rear vehicle of the second serial, which had come under fire.

Beyond the canyon, the first group of Rangers, including Pat Tillman, dismounted near the tiny village of Sperah and moved into position to fire at the muzzle flashes visible at the top of the ridgeline and lay cover for the trailing convoy.

Pat Tillman and O'Neal took off to reach a position low on the ridgeline. The Afghan soldier, who had been in the vehicle behind Pat Tillman, followed them.

As the second unit's lead vehicle broke free of the canyon, Baker, who was standing in the front passenger side, spotted the dark-skinned Afghan soldier on his feet and firing an AK-47 in the direction of the convoy.

Baker told ESPN.com that he didn't realize he had targeted a friendly Afghan soldier, one of four who a few days earlier had joined the Rangers for a sweep operation of the countryside, or that the Afghan was firing over the convoy, at an enemy position high atop the ridgeline.

Neither, Baker said, did he realize that just a few feet off the Afghan's right shoulder were two Americans in Ranger uniforms: Pat Tillman and O'Neal.

Baker fired.

The Afghan was killed, his gut torn open as Baker let loose eight rounds.

Baker's first shots triggered wild, frenzied firing from the young shooters under his charge in the vehicle, engaging everything in the vicinity of the friendly Afghan.

"Well, we teach our guys to, you know — one of our fire commands is to shoot where the leader shoots," Baker said to ESPN.com.

And that is what they did?


"Right," Baker answered.
But according to one of the Rangers in the second unit, the soldiers also are trained to make certain they know what they are aiming at before they pull the trigger.

"I was always taught: identify, acquire, engage," Arreola said in an interview with ESPN.com. "Identify your target. Acquire it — put your gun sight on it. And if the threat is there, engage. So that is what I did. And that is why I shot up on top of the mountain, knowing that nobody we would give a s--- about is up there. And if anything, the threat is up there."

When asked by ESPN.com whether the other Rangers in the second serial should have known what they were shooting, Arreola said: "Yes, definitely. That is what we are taught. It is burned into our minds."

Arreola, who was in the last vehicle of the second serial, told ESPN.com he did not shoot at Tillman or the other Rangers on the ridgeline. Both Arreola and Mansfield were interviewed on Memorial Day of this year at an Orange County (Calif.) jail facility, where they are serving sentences for felony assault for their part in a November 2004 bar fight in Fullerton.

Pat Tillman and other Rangers on the ridgeline frantically waved their arms. Tillman set off a smoke grenade. At one point, the firing ceased briefly when the soldiers in the trailing serial lost sight of their targets as their vehicle rounded a curve. Thinking the firefight was over, Tillman and O'Neal stood to stretch their legs. According to O'Neal's interview transcript from the Army's November 2004 investigation, the two Rangers assumed the shooters had recognized the tragic error.

"So we figured we were fine," O'Neal recalled for investigators. "We figured it was — you know, they realized we were friendly."

But the firing resumed.

This time, someone put three bullets in Tillman's head.

O'Neal's account, again from the Army's documents: "I probably laid down for a minute, you know, just trying to decide what had just happened. And after about then, I started to notice I was hearing some kind of running water sound and then I noticed I was just covered in blood and the blood was just running all over me and, at that time, I knew something was wrong. Probably not even a minute, a minute and a half before I started calling. I looked at Pat and realized he was dead and I called for [redacted] and it probably took a minute and a half, two minutes before they got to my position."
 
Before they eased off their triggers, the shooters also hit and wounded the platoon leader, Lt. Uthlaut, and his radio telephone operator, Spc. Jade Lane, who were positioned alongside a mud house less than 100 yards down the road.

"I just [feel] horrible," Baker told ESPN.com. "I mean, all of us did.…I don't know how you deal with something like this. The mood overall was just crappy. Everyone was down. [Tillman] was a great guy and stuff like that. Awesome guy."

Now out of the Army and living in Tacoma, Wash., near where the Ranger unit had trained at Fort Lewis, Baker said he remembers his anxiety rising as his Humvee moved farther down the road. Up ahead, the vehicles belonging to the first group were stopped. Off to his right, up on the hills lining the road, were Rangers, some flailing their arms to signal for a cease-fire.

Explaining what first moved him to squeeze the trigger of his automatic weapon, Baker told ESPN.com, "It was just thinking that we'd seen bad guys on top of them, 'cause obviously that was where we were receiving fire at the whole time. And it just happened that the Afghan's moving with [Tillman and O'Neal], too — the Afghan being their furthest man to the right, you know. So that was the first person that we [saw] on top of the hill, and him firing an AK-47, the same weapon system [the enemy was] shooting at us."

Kauzlarich, in the first official Army investigation, harshly chastised Baker for allowing himself to become "tunnel visioned" on the AMF soldier

"He was firing up over us," Baker said he realized later. "But just at our angle, it looked like it came down at us because just the way the terrain was laid out and stuff like that. He was actually firing on a firing position up over our heads."

As for Pat Tillman, Baker said, "I couldn't…I didn't see him."

Nor did he see O'Neal, standing alongside Tillman. And he said he didn't pick up on the smoke canister Tillman set off.

Baker has never denied shooting the friendly Afghan soldier. In one of his statements to Kauzlarich during the first official investigation, Baker said, "I killed that guy. I killed the AMF soldier."

In stark contrast with Tillman, the Afghan remains a true unknown soldier. U.S. military officials told ESPN.com they aren't certain of his identity. Representatives with the Embassy of Afghanistan in Washington, as well as officials with the Afghanistan National Army, told ESPN.com they also have no record of his identity.

The job of making sense of the battlefield scene initially belonged to Capt. Richard Scott.

Within 24 hours after the Rangers killed Pat Tillman, Scott, who has since risen to the rank of major, was assigned to conduct the first, though unofficial, investigation. He was told up front that fratricide was suspected, a suspicion he seconded after he interviewed the Rangers and finished his inquiry. According to the transcript of his statement given to investigators later, he found Tillman had been killed by friendly fire.

At the time he was assigned to the investigation, Scott was already a decorated, if young, officer on the rise. A year earlier, he'd been recognized at the Pentagon during ceremonies for the 16th annual Gen. Douglas MacArthur Army Leadership Awards. Army brass, however, subsequently determined the assignment of Scott to the investigation wasn't in line with Army protocol once the scope of the inquiry began to focus on one of his superior officers. According to Army documents, then, Kauzlarich was assigned to what would become the Army's first official investigation on May 8, 2004, a little more than two weeks after Tillman had been killed. Kauzlarich completed his report within a week.

The existence of the Army's initial investigation didn't become known by the Tillman family until Kevin Tillman's chance encounter with Scott at Fort Bragg (N.C.) in late 2004.

Scott's conclusions were more unfavorable toward the actions of the Rangers than any of the subsequent Army investigations, and they came during a time of turmoil and negative headlines for the Army and the Bush administration. The war images in front of the public were awful. Remains of the bodies of American contractors working in Iraq were strung up in Fallujah just three weeks before Tillman's death. And on April 28, "60 Minutes II" broadcast graphic photos depicting abuse by U.S. soldiers working as guards in Iraq's Abu Ghraib prison.

According to Scott's statement provided in an investigation concluded last year and obtained by ESPN.com, he said he believed some of the shooters "could be charged for criminal intent" and at least three had demonstrated "gross negligence." Scott told Jones, the brigadier general assigned to conduct the most recently concluded investigation, that Baker should have been "chaptered out of the Army" and expressed his frustration that the shooters were allowed to change their stories and hadn't been punished adequately.
 
Reached by ESPN.com, Scott declined to elaborate, saying "Unfortunately, I can't really discuss anything until the [current] investigation is over with. I'm under a strict order not to."

Jones, who retired from the Army in January, also declined comment.

In findings released in March 2005, Jones acknowledged the Army knew almost immediately that Tillman had been killed by fellow soldiers, but blamed confusion over an interpretation of the regulations rather than a cover-up for the delay in telling Tillman's family. Jones upheld the awarding of the Silver Star to Tillman, even though he'd been killed before he could carry out what, in Jones' words, was an "audacious plan" that evening on the battlefield.

According to Army documents, Jones also upheld the relatively light sentences previously levied against the handful of soldiers and officers. The most serious reprimand: a dismissal from the Rangers, but not the Army, along with a Field Grade Article 15 Non-Judicial Punishment (which allows a commanding officer considerable leeway in administering discipline) for Baker. The other soldiers who were identified by fellow Rangers as having fired with Baker — Trevor Alders, Steve Elliott and Steve Ashpole — received Company Grade Article 15s (which are less severe reprimands than the Field Grade level), and also were dismissed from the Rangers but not the Army.

"They didn't have to serve any punishments for their Article 15s," Lane, the radio operator who was wounded by friendly fire in the incident, said in an interview with ESPN.com. "No deduction in rank. No extra duty. No punishment of any kind. Their punishment was — and this is what they were told — that 'leaving the Rangers was punishment enough.' "

Platoon leader Uthlaut received a verbal reprimand as well as reassigned to the regular Army. Still in the Army and now a captain, he recently was stationed at Fort Benning in Georgia.

Among other things, the Tillman family is troubled the Army didn't take action against the soldiers who, according to Army documents and witness statements, destroyed potentially key evidence within days of Tillman's death. His body armor was burned April 23 — a day after his death — and two days later his uniform and vest were similarly burned. Soldiers said they destroyed Tillman's bloody belongings for hygiene reasons, as well as for the morale of the platoon, though they failed to follow Army procedures requiring medical authority before doing so.

A soldier who burned Tillman's uniform said in his statement it was not an effort to destroy evidence: "At that time it was acknowledged that this was fratricide. There was no question in my mind it was a friendly fire incident and had no thought of 'destroying evidence' as we already knew that this was fratricide."

For the past two years, Kevin Tillman has been a reclusive figure. He rarely has been seen at ceremonies honoring his late brother, and he has avoided the media. Now out of the service, he has refused to go on the record for this story. But Arreola and Mansfield remember Kevin's reaction to his brother's death.

Arreola, a 22-year-old from Fontana, Calif., who had been in the vehicle with Kevin when the firefight started, was pulling guard duty with Kevin after the shooting was over. Arreola said he sensed something was wrong.

"It was dark already," Arreola told ESPN.com. "I just saw like a shadow. I saw Kevin. I saw somebody walk up to him, don't know who it was. I heard voices and I don't know what was said. I just remember hearing Kevin crying. And then I put that together with [the fact] we took a casualty.

"Then," Arreola said, "I went into shock. Kind of like, 'What the hell just happened?' "

Another Ranger had whispered to Kevin that Pat Tillman was dead.

Mansfield reflected with empathy on the changes he saw in Kevin when he rejoined the platoon upon its return to Fort Lewis about five weeks after Pat Tillman's death.

"He kept himself away from everybody," said Mansfield, clad in a dark blue prison jumpsuit with his head shaved. "And when we came back [to Fort Lewis], people were laughing, joking. And to him, he still didn't think people should be laughing, joking. A lot of people were trying to move on, trying to get past it; but to him, it was still pretty close. He didn't [think] that we should be doing that. So he pushed us away from him and wanted nothing to do with anybody there."

Said Arreola: "I think he blamed everybody that was there. Not one person in particular, but maybe he felt more toward certain people."

Army Spc. Russell Baer, one of Kevin Tillman's closer friends in the unit, accompanied Kevin and his brother's body on the flight back to the U.S. from Afghanistan. In his own interview with Army investigators in November 2004, Baer said he had been told to "pretty much keep my mouth shut up about the incident until all the pieces were put together."

Frustration with that situation, he said, caused him to be two days late returning to the Army, a transgression for which he was disciplined.

"I went home and saw all the pain and frustration.…I always had that piece in my head — my part of the puzzle and I couldn't tell them about it," Baer told investigators. "I was ****** off and I really at that time did not want to come back."

The next chapter in the Pat Tillman story is still to be written. It remains unclear whether the current inquiry will bring results that will satisfy his family. From their perspective, the accounts have been marked by uncertainties and unknowns from the very beginning, and the passing of time since April 22, 2004, doesn't help.

Even that night in the crammed tent at Camp Salerno, when the story should have been fresh, witnesses couldn't agree on what had happened. According to one Army document, a high-ranking officer who led the after-action review described the scene to Army investigators: "That whole (unit) was ****** off. But it started to become clear as we drew this thing out that there was just some — some things didn't make sense."

And that hasn't changed.

Article by Mike Fish/ ESPN.com
 
Tillman Part 2

Part 2

"He made the call. He dismounted his troops, taking the fight to the enemy, uphill, to seize the tactical high ground from the enemy. This gave his brothers and the downed vehicle time to move off that target. He directly saved their lives with that move. Pat sacrificed himself so his brothers could live." Those are the words Steve White used to describe how Pat Tillman died.

White, a Navy SEAL, thought he was telling it like it was to the 2,000 or so people gathered in the California sun and to a television audience watching ESPN's live coverage of the memorial service for Tillman on May 3, 2004. White told them all how his war-hero buddy had been killed two weeks earlier in the mountains of Afghanistan during an epic fight against the Taliban.

White, it turns out, was telling it like it wasn't.

The truth, according to Army documents provided to ESPN.com by the Tillman family, was that not a single Ranger, including Tillman, had been hit by enemy fire in the battle that cost Tillman his life. There is no mention in the documents of even a single bullet hole discovered in any of the Ranger vehicles on the scene.

Nor did Tillman have the authority to "make the call" or bark any orders to dismount. He was older than most of the other Rangers; but as a specialist, he was outranked in the field that April 22, 2004, evening by several sergeants and a lieutenant, the platoon leader. Presumably, the "downed vehicle" was in the trailing half of a split Ranger group that was ambushed while making its way through a narrow canyon in southeastern Afghanistan. And in the convoy were American soldiers who blasted their way out of the narrow pass. Turns out, though, it was those "brothers" who had killed Tillman and a friendly Afghan fighter and injured two other Rangers.

But don't blame White for the misinformation. He was just the messenger.

In an interview with ESPN.com, White said he was spoon-fed that story by an Army representative just an hour or so before he took the stage, draped with American flags that gently swayed in the afternoon breeze, for the memorial service. By then, the Army's top brass and most of the Rangers who had been in the battle already knew Tillman had been killed by his own men, but no one had told Tillman's family or an American public watching along with the crowd in the San Jose Municipal Rose Garden.

In the version given to White, fratricide was never mentioned.

The Navy SEAL said he is embarrassed by his words now. He frets about the additional pain his speech might have caused Tillman's family just two weeks after Pat's death. And he wonders whether he was set up to tell the phony story.

In the haste and the emotion of the moment, White didn't take note of the person on the phone who fed him the details. Remembering a name, he said, didn't seem important then. He recalls only that the caller was an enlistee from Tillman's battalion.

"They wanted me to let everyone know he was being awarded the Silver Star, posthumously, and all that," said White, a senior chief petty officer who instructs Navy SEALs in urban warfare. "I wanted to have an idea of what happened. So they told me their version at the time of what happened, which is the heroic tale that they initially came out with. I repeated it back. I summarized it and read it back. I said, 'Does that sound accurate?' He said, 'Absolutely.'

"Once I met these guys face-to-face [before the San Jose memorial service], I said, 'Hey, I hope you guys aren't too upset about a Navy guy probably doing something the Army would be proud to do.' They [said], 'Absolutely not; we're all on the same team, yada, yada, yada.'

"About [three weeks after the memorial service] is when Kevin [Tillman, Pat's brother] was at work and found out, hey, this thing was fratricide. And he called me, devastated -- 'What is going on?' He had absolutely no idea that it was fratricide."

The question of why Tillman's family wasn't informed of the possibility Pat's death was from friendly fire until five weeks after it happened still hasn't been answered satisfactorily, at least in the eyes of the people who were closest to the former NFL player. In an effort to shed light on how Tillman died and whether there was an attempt to use his good name and valor for political purposes, ESPN.com has interviewed more than 50 Army officials, politicians, and medical and military experts, plus nine of the 35 Rangers who were engaged in the firefight.

White spoke to ESPN.com this spring about the friendship he forged with Kevin and Pat Tillman during their deployment in Iraq before the brothers were sent to Afghanistan. Kevin Tillman had requested that White, a 16-year Navy veteran, speak at the memorial service. And so White told the Rose Garden crowd and the television audience that Pat Tillman had been awarded a Purple Heart for being wounded in combat and that Tillman had been promoted posthumously from specialist to corporal.

Finally, his voice cracking with emotion, White painted the battlefield picture with brushstrokes that made Tillman's action so valorous as to be worthy of a Silver Star, one of the Army's most distinguished awards.
 
Among the Army officials gathered that afternoon to mourn and celebrate Pat Tillman, listening to the heroic story and offering condolences to the family, was Lt. Gen. Philip Kensinger Jr. of the U.S. Army. Documents given to the Tillman family and obtained by ESPN.com show that by the time the memorial service began, Kensinger already had been told friendly fire was suspected in Tillman's death.

According to a transcript of Kensinger's interview in November 2004, during an Army investigation, he was asked whether he'd made a conscious decision to withhold that information from the Tillman family. He answered, "That was a memorial service. I didn't think it was my responsibility to go up to them and say, 'Hey, you know, this is a possible friendly fire.' "

In retrospect, White wonders whether Army officials were covering for themselves by not coming forward with the real story, or even the suspicion, of friendly fire. The idea of awarding the Silver Star in a fratricide, White suggested to ESPN.com, might have been a case of the Army hoping to "shower [the family] with gifts and they'll leave us alone."

Records of the gun battle in which Tillman died indicate that he fought in exemplary fashion to the end. But it's unclear whether he did anything more courageous than what any of the other Rangers who were positioned along the southeastern Afghanistan ridgeline near the border with Pakistan did. That uncertainty raises two questions:

• Was awarding the Silver Star a public relations move after the Army had killed its most famous soldier?

• If Pat Tillman were still alive today, would he be wearing a Silver Star?

In answer to the second question, a sergeant in Tillman's platoon who spoke to ESPN.com on condition of anonymity, said, "Well, of course not."

But Pat Tillman wasn't just any Ranger. Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld wrote a personal letter to him after he enlisted in the Army, members of the Tillman family told ESPN.com; so he was on the political radar as a high-profile recruit long before he was killed in Afghanistan. And in the days and months after Tillman's death, his name was kept alive by President Bush.

Nine days after Tillman died, at the May 1, 2004, White House Correspondents' Association dinner, Bush said the death of Tillman "brought home the sorrow that comes with every loss and reminds us of the character of the men and women who serve on our behalf." Tillman, the president said that night, "was modest because he knew there were many like him making their own sacrifices."

In the fall of 2004, at a ceremony at Sun Devil Stadium in which Tillman's Arizona Cardinals jersey was retired, the president delivered a video message on the stadium's giant screen. "As much as Pat Tillman loved competing on the football field, he loved America even more," Bush said. "Courageous and humble, a loving husband and son, a devoted brother and a fierce defender of liberty. Pat Tillman will always be remembered and honored in our country."

At the time of Tillman's death, the administration was dealing with a series of distressing public images that were shaping a negative perception of the war. The remains of American contractors working in Iraq, strung up in Fallujah, appeared in photographs and on news reports three weeks before; and "60 Minutes II" prepared to broadcast photos just six days later depicting abuse by U.S. soldiers working as guards in Iraq's Abu Ghraib prison.

The news that American soldiers had gunned down Pat Tillman could have been another negative headline if it had been reported that way at the time. Instead, Tillman was cast as a war hero.

In reality, he appears to have been a victim of a tragic accident caused at least in part by horrible judgment on the part of the Army. But that version wasn't a part of the story White told at the memorial service.

"Ultimately, what I would want to have happen is just the truth," said Richard Tillman, Pat's youngest brother, in an interview with ESPN.com. "At the end of the day, Pat deserves the truth. This isn't about our family. This isn't about the Tillmans. This is about Pat Tillman. And he deserves the truth, period. He sacrificed so much for his country, and then the government turns around and uses him for propaganda. That is totally unacceptable."

By most accounts in ESPN.com's examination of documents and interviews with the Rangers who served with him, Tillman acted in accordance with the other men in the lead half of his platoon who stopped their convoy to help the soldiers under fire in the trailing half. In an interview as well as an investigation document, Lt. Col. Ralph Kauzlarich, the Ranger regiment executive officer in Afghanistan, said Tillman wasn't the only man positioned along the ridgeline to engage the enemy and take pressure off the second group.

According to a transcript from the Army's November 2004 investigation, Kauzlarich said he believes it was Tillman's "intent" to take his team, which consisted of an Afghan fighter and a young Ranger soldier, Spc. Bryan O'Neal, farther up the hill in pursuit of the enemy.

But that intent, if it existed, wasn't executed.

As Tillman returned from updating a sergeant about developments in the rear of the first convoy, his position came under fire from the lead vehicle in the second group. "He couldn't go forward to do what he intended to do because he was pinned down," Kauzlarich said in his interview with investigators.

When the firing stopped, Tillman was dead.

The Army began crafting Tillman's Silver Star application in the days just after his death; and according to transcripts of investigation witness statements, top Army officials already suspected fratricide when they wrote it. In his witness statement, Capt. William Saunders acknowledged providing the information needed for Tillman's recommendation, stating "we became aware that his death was a possible fratricide" before its submission. During a separate interview with investigators, Saunders, the company commander, said when he arrived at the scene of the battle early on the morning after Tillman died, he was told fratricide was suspected.

Less than 24 hours after Tillman was killed, military documents further reveal, Army brass told Capt. Richard Scott fratricide was suspected when Scott, another company commander within Kauzlarich's regiment, was assigned the initial inquiry. Army records show the Silver Star recommendation was submitted April 27, before the investigation was completed, and signed two days later by Les Brownlee, acting Secretary of the Army. The award was presented to Tillman's family a week later in San Jose, just days before the memorial service.
 
In another transcript obtained by ESPN.com, an unidentified high-ranking Army officer who claimed credit for writing the Silver Star citation said he learned of the possibility of fratricide on the morning of April 25. The name of the person who directed this high-ranking officer to put Tillman in for the Silver Star is redacted from the document.

In the transcript of his interview with Army investigators, the officer who wrote the recommendation acknowledged he purposely massaged the wording to be vague.

"We modified some of the verbiage because -- I put what I thought had happened," he said. "So some of the (earlier) verbiage describes the actions in combat fighting an enemy. And in good conscience, I couldn't write, 'Killed by the enemy,' on a Silver Star citation that 30 years down the road the family would spit on because it may have been fratricide."

As awarded, the citation reads:

"Corporal Tillman put himself in the line of devastating enemy fire as he maneuvered his Fire Team to a covered position from which they could effectively employ their weapons on known enemy positions. While mortally wounded, his audacious leadership and courageous example under fire inspired his men to fight with great risk to their own personal safety, resulting in the enemy's withdrawal and his platoon's safe passage from the ambush kill zone."

No one else on the battlefield that evening was awarded a Silver Star. Only Tillman.

"Oh, my goodness, that is a huge slap in the face to real Silver Star recipients," retired Air Force Lt. Col. Karen Kwiatkowski, an outspoken critic of the Bush administration's influence on the Pentagon and military intelligence, told ESPN.com. "That degrades the award. ... It was a domestic campaign to make Tillman out to be a war hero, a great sacrificing American, fighting for the liberty and freedom of the Afghan people. And whatever they had to do to sell that story, truth be damned. It is very typical of the way we pursue these wars. They haven't told the truth from the beginning."

Brownlee, who retired from the Army in December 2004, told ESPN.com his signature on the Silver Star certificate was customary. He said his recollection is the recommendation for Tillman's Silver Star came from a command level below in the Afghanistan theater. Brownlee describes himself as being "flabbergasted" upon learning Tillman was killed by his own men.

"That is why I immediately asked, 'What is the impact on [the Silver Star]?' " Brownlee said. "And what I was told was that there wasn't an impact. That he got that for doing what he did."

After heavy prodding from Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.), Brownlee ordered what would be the Army's second official investigation of Tillman's death, but he stepped down from his post before Brig. Gen. Gary Jones completed his inquiry. Brownlee, now retired from the Army, said he has not read Jones' findings.

"My recollection was that [Tillman] exposed himself and was waving his arms and I think popping a purple signal grenade trying to get the fire off him," said Brownlee, himself the recipient of two Silver Stars, three Bronze Stars and a Purple Heart. "So -- and that is how he was killed. He could have stayed in a protective position."

Asked specifically whether that is action worthy of a Silver Star, Brownlee said yes. And the Army's case that the awarding of the Silver Star was justified is bolstered by statements made by Bryan O'Neal, the Ranger who was next to Tillman when he was killed, in a debriefing meeting on April 25, 2004, three days after the firefight. According to Spc. Pedro Arreola, who was there, O'Neal tearfully told the rest of the platoon, "The only reason I am standing here is because Pat Tillman saved my life."

More than two years later, the Army continues to keep classified the supporting documentation and recommendations for Tillman's Silver Star. However, an official with the Army Human Resources Command said Tillman is believed to be the only soldier from the war in Afghanistan to be awarded a Silver Star for action in a combat situation involving fratricide. "With rare exceptions, Silver Stars are not awarded for friendly fire incidents," said Thomas Jones, chief of the Army's freedom of information and privacy act program.

According to Army regulations, the Silver Star is to be awarded for "gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States."

"A Silver Star is when you save your buddies' lives," said Kwiatkowski, who held a variety of roles with the National Security Agency and was in her office in the Pentagon on Sept. 11, 2001 when a hijacked commercial jet was flown into the building. "Or if posthumous, it's where you sacrificed yourself in order to save a whole unit. A Silver Star is a serious, valorous thing. Even if you didn't know about the politics at all, a Silver Star for what Pat Tillman honestly did, which is get shot by his buddies in pursuit of a great plan, would not get you a Silver Star."

For White, the Navy SEAL, the Silver Star is another piece that doesn't fit into the puzzle of Tillman's death. White said he speaks with Kevin Tillman about their unanswered questions nearly every other week. The two of them have pored over the documents given the Tillman family by the Army, weighing explanations and possibilities and talking about the inconsistencies in the Army's version of events.
 
"It is just the way the [Army] investigation happened," White told ESPN.com. "Just a lot of ... like a panic to cover up. It's like, 'Oh my God, who did we just [kill]? Look at what just happened; and even worse, we did it to ourselves.' So they went in trying to cover it up and give [him] a heroic burial. That is what those guys, the family, is all bent out of shape about. You can't blame them.

"[Pat was] a stand-up guy who would do anything in the world not to lie about anything, even if it was going to cost him something, and then he gets covered in it."

When the Army finally acknowledged five weeks after the fact that Tillman had been killed by friendly fire, Tillman's parents, who are divorced, began to look for their own answers. Separately, they made inquiries to the Army and requested help from Capitol Hill, including Rep. Mike Honda (D-Calif.), a lawmaker from San Jose who recrafted a series of questions posed by Mary Tillman, Pat's mother, and formally asked the Department of Defense to investigate. On a parallel path, Patrick K. Tillman, Pat's father and a San Jose attorney, sent an angry letter in April 2005 to Brig. Gen. Jones, and copied the Senate Armed Services Committee, in which he criticized the information in briefings Jones had given him.

The Army subsequently requested the Department of Defense Inspector General's Office to review the case.

That policy and oversight review, which has been under way for nearly a year, might be the Tillmans' last and best hope. The Department of Defense Inspector General's Office is an independent body that operates much like the internal affairs division in a police department.

Ultimately, perhaps early this fall, the inspector general is expected to make recommendations based on his office's investigation.

"The concern the family has is that senior leaders somewhere knew that there was not only a chance of fratricide but that it was likely that it was fratricide and an investigation was ongoing, and yet the [May 3, 2004] memorial service went forward," said David Morriss, counsel to the Senate Armed Services Committee. "And the tone of the memorial service had nothing to do with fratricide. That is a major concern of the family's; and they interpret that a particular way, that it was done for political purposes by the Army. And that is one of the things the investigation is going to get after."
 
The White House and Rumsfeld's office both declined ESPN.com's requests to address the Tillman issue. But Congressmen Dennis Kucinich (D-Ohio) and Honda, who represents the Tillmans' home district, were quick to respond.

"It has already been well established that very few things happen without someone high up [in the administration] knowing about it, whether you are talking about 9/11 or Hurricane Katrina or whatever," Kucinich, a critic of the Bush administration, said in an interview with ESPN.com. "So there is a point at which there has to be accountability here. And my guess is that Secretary Rumsfeld is well-advised on this.

"And I would be more than surprised if this isn't a discussion that reached the president himself, considering the fact that he himself expressed regrets. Surely, he knows about it. The question is, what does he know and when did he know it."

As the ranking Democrat on the oversight subcommittee having jurisdiction over national security and international relations, Kucinich is threatening to put witnesses under oath in front of a congressional hearing, pending the results of the inspector general's probe.

"Is this the Army covering up, for political or public relations purposes, this possible fratricide?" asked Kucinich, who ran a short-lived campaign for the Democratic presidential nomination in 2004. "And is there a possibility that something far worse occurred? We have to ask these questions. And so, I am not drawing any conclusions yet. But I am going to tell you: Everything that has been handled so far -- the Army has mishandled this perfectly."

FRIDAY, PART 3: The challenge to keep Tillman's legacy alive, and real.

Mike Fish is an investigative reporter for ESPN.com. He can be reached at [email protected].
 
Tillman Part 3

Part 3

More than two years after Pat Tillman was killed by friendly fire in Afghanistan, his family and friends are working to create a positive legacy even as they remain angered and frustrated with lingering unanswered questions about his death.

The stories didn't ring true to Richard Tillman. Sitting up front at the memorial service for his brother, he listened to politicians and other luminaries tell the heroic tale, gushing their heartfelt goodbyes. Pat Tillman, so many of them suggested, died valiantly though violently, then had slipped off peacefully to a better place.

To Richard Tillman, it sounded contrived. Too neatly packaged.

It didn't sound right. Not like Pat.

His brother, Richard knew, didn't worship at the altar of organized religion. And though he certainly was fearless, Richard knew Pat had enough sense not to get himself shot.

"I remember not believing the story of him running up a mountain, screaming his head off," Richard told ESPN.com. "Because I was like, 'OK, well, that sounds like a very meat-headed thing to do, and not at all like Pat. I don't get the picture.' But at the same time, nothing made sense because you just are told that your brother is dead. At the time, you are not going to piece anything together. And I think that is what the military actually plans on because they have seen the way people are when they lose a loved one, and they can basically tell them anything and they are not going to pick up on it.

"But I remember talking to my mom about it. 'You know what? This is shady.' It didn't really go much further than that because you can't, really. … So it is more a hindsight that you saw something weird. But we did verbalize it — that is for sure."

When the time came for Richard to speak from the podium on that sunny California day, May 3, 2004, in the San Jose Municipal Rose Garden, he tried to set the record straight about his brother and the afterlife for anyone who might try to co-opt Pat Tillman's story.

"Pat isn't with God. He's f------ dead," he told the 2,000 or so people in attendance and the television audience watching on ESPN. "He wasn't religious. So thank you for your thoughts, but he's f------ dead."

The people who were close to Pat Tillman, both as a civilian and as a soldier, paint a picture of a complicated man who questioned authority to understand it, who challenged his friends to defend their beliefs and who sought as many points of view as possible to make sense of an issue. They describe a person with no tolerance for dishonesty or incompetence, who would have countenanced neither the manner in which he was killed nor the way his death was handled.

More than two years after Pat Tillman died, Richard — like the rest of the Tillman family and many of Pat's close friends — is still trying to keep at bay the people and institutions who might want to use his brother's name for their own interests. The family is still suspicious of the media, still angry at the government, still convinced the Army tried to glorify Pat as a war hero when it knew he'd been gunned down by his fellow soldiers.

And, they're still looking for answers to the questions that have kept the story about Pat Tillman's uncertain death alive through three Army investigations and now an ongoing review by the Department of Defense Inspector General's Office:

• Why weren't the soldiers firing at Pat punished more harshly?
• Why weren't the Army officers who ordered Pat's platoon to be split held accountable for the deadly decision?
• Why didn't the Army identify the soldiers who wounded two other Rangers in the same firefight?
• Why hasn't the Afghan Military Forces soldier who was killed alongside Pat been identified to the Tillmans?
• Why was the Army so quick to burn key evidence such as Pat's uniform and protective vest?
• Why has the Army continued to keep classified its first investigation into Pat's death, in which Capt. Richard Scott reported he suspected criminal negligence?
• Why were some of the Rangers involved in the shooting allowed to change their statements about key facts, such as distances and lighting conditions, between investigations?
 
The Tillman family's list of questions goes on and on.

Tillman's father, Patrick K. Tillman, raised a number of those questions in a blistering April 21, 2005, letter to Brig. Gen. Gary Jones, who conducted the Army's most recent investigation of the incident. In a pair of briefings late in 2004 and on March 31, 2005, Jones delivered his findings to Tillman's father, who found them far from satisfactory.

"All evidence, with the exception of Pat's body, was destroyed," Tillman wrote in the letter to Jones, a copy of which he provided to ESPN.com. "All of it 'slipped through procedural cracks' that will be corrected 'now that we've identified them.' And the autopsy — a joke … provided minimal detail. Its purpose was to further cover up this incident. You simply wanted to say that you performed one."

In the letter, Patrick Tillman, an attorney in San Jose, blamed not only the Rangers who fired at his son but also key Army leadership in charge of the mission in southeastern Afghanistan. Pat Tillman's father also blasted the investigators of the friendly-fire incident after the fact.

"Those 'on the ground' had a sworn duty, and they were trained, to positively identify whoever it was they were about to kill," he wrote. "People in other positions of authority, too, had a sworn duty — Colonels, Generals, attorneys — to do their job. We relied on all of you to exercise your duty/authority/responsibility properly, at least not maliciously or pursuant to some [bulls---] agenda. Telling us the truth about how Pat died was the least you could do. Every one of you have disregarded your duty, acting deliberately and shamelessly to kill my son and lie about it."

In another letter — June 21, 2005, to counsel for the Senate Armed Services Committee — Tillman's father unleashed his harshest criticism of Jones, writing: "I ASSURE YOU, no investigator worth a damn would have made the presentation I sat through unless they had an agenda different from the truth. The initial investigation was changed. Conflicting testimony was disregarded. Key evidence was destroyed and/or omitted. Witnesses, probably with supervision of superiors, changed their testimony. No one has been confronted with their conduct."

Army officials repeatedly have denied there was ever an effort to cover up the friendly fire or purposely conceal facts from the Tillman family or the American public. Paul Boyce, a spokesman for the Department of the Army, told ESPN.com the Army has twice apologized to the family for the delay in notification that friendly fire was suspected.

Boyce acknowledged the family's lingering suspicions and Patrick Tillman's letter in response to Jones' findings were a pivotal trigger for the current investigation, saying: "They ultimately accused [Jones] of being part of the conspiracy. So finally at that point, even our inspector general people said, 'Well, at this point, it would be best that rather than the Army looking into the allegations that Gen. Jones is part of a conspiracy, as well, that we have this transferred over to the Department of Defense IG. So we did that last August."

In neither life nor death is the Pat Tillman story simple. He certainly cannot be summed up solely as a macho war hero. But that's what the family suggests the Army tried to do in the five weeks between Pat Tillman's death and the belated announcement he had died in a friendly-fire incident.

He wasn't a Republican, and he wasn't a Democrat. He wasn't beholden to President Bush and, by all accounts, didn't vote for him; yet he wanted to fight the president's war on terror. He wasn't religious, yet he read both the Bible and the Koran. Pat and his middle brother Kevin signed up with the Rangers to hunt down Taliban and al-Qaida fighters in Afghanistan, not to serve in the invasion of Iraq. But when President Bush launched the Iraq assault soon after they enlisted, the two Tillman Rangers were part of the initial march to Baghdad.

By the time they left Iraq, Pat and Kevin apparently had become disenchanted with what they perceived to be the administration's ill-conceived plan to run the country it had just conquered and keep order.

Richard, the youngest of the three, recalls sitting around with his brothers when they returned from Iraq and before they were redeployed to Afghanistan. "'Illegal war' came up a couple hundred times. Yeah, they weren't too happy about it," he said. "Afghanistan is one thing. But Iraq is just — that is one they definitely made mention that, 'This is bulls---.' "

During his time back in the States between deployments overseas, Pat spoke with Jared Schrieber, a friend from their days together at Arizona State, about the possibility of a meeting with distinguished MIT linguistics professor Noam Chomsky when Pat returned from Afghanistan. Chomsky, a counterculture political analyst with a following of almost pop star proportions, is a prominent critic of U.S. foreign policy who has written more than 30 political books.

"It just came up in a conversation once: 'Hey, that would be cool. That would be good.' " Schrieber said. "Pat was not afraid of seeking out viewpoints or arguments from people who had a 360-degree range of views. Some of them, he clearly respected. That doesn't mean he embraced them or followed. People have views or hold opinions for good reason. They may turn out to be foolish in the end, but you've got to understand what motivates them or what the drivers are that led them to those conclusions."

The meeting with Chomsky, of course, never happened.

Schrieber and his wife, Reka Cseresnyes, were close to Pat and his wife, Marie. As seniors in college, Cseresnyes, a four-time All-American tennis player, and Tillman were named Arizona State's top female and male athletes. After the couples married and settled in the Phoenix area, they occasionally debated the issues of the day over dinner — including, Schrieber said, Pat's desire to join the Army. When Pat was overseas with the Rangers, Schrieber said, they kept in touch via e-mail.

On a Saturday morning this past April, most of the old gang gathered again in Tempe, Ariz., for "Pat's Run" -- a road race organized by the Pat Tillman Foundation, which was formed two years ago to keep his legacy alive. The Arizona sun shone in a crisp blue sky as more than 8,000 runners, some wearing Tillman football jerseys and a smattering in Army garb, traversed the 4.2-mile course -- a play off Tillman's No. 42 at Arizona State -- around his college campus. Mingling among the sweaty throng were family, old coaches and teammates, some of whom played with Pat on the Sun Devils' 1996 Rose Bowl team. They laughed and hugged, some seeing each other for the first time since the inaugural Pat's Run a year earlier.
 
The Pat Tillman Foundation has taken a parallel path to the family's quest to get answers from the Army; both have as a goal the survival of Tillman's legacy. The April race alone raised $350,000, and individual and corporate donations — along with the sale of Tillman's Arizona Cardinals and ASU jerseys — have brought "several million dollars" to the foundation, according to its director, Alex Garwood.

Garwood, who is Pat Tillman's brother-in-law, intends to take the road races around the country and spread the foundation's "Leadership Through Action" initiative, which funds another enterprise called the Tillman Scholars. That program debuted at Arizona State's business school this past year with 12 students who work alongside mentors to develop programs aimed at bettering society. The foundation also provides the initial seed money for projects such as one in Sacramento that reconditions sports equipment for an inner-city high school.

Much of the passion and direction for those programs, according to Garwood, comes from Tillman's widow, who also serves on the foundation's five-member board with Kevin, Pat's brother.

"When we were sitting there talking about 'Leadership Through Action,' Marie hit her hands on the table and said, 'This feels like Pat,' " Garwood said. "It's stepping up and taking action, doing the right thing, thinking for yourself, making a positive impact. All those different pieces fit. Obviously, there are things out there that don't. As an example, people say, 'Hey, a great fund-raiser would be a golf tournament.' No, no. That doesn't make sense. That's just too 'me, too.' "

Marie Tillman, who is under contract with ESPN as a talent director, declined to be interviewed or cooperate with this story, as she has all other media requests.

As the stragglers crossed the Pat's Run finish line inside Sun Devil Stadium in April, Denver Broncos quarterback Jake Plummer and Richard Tillman walked together through the ASU locker room. Plummer and Pat Tillman were teammates, first at Arizona State and later with the Cardinals. They met in Tempe as teenagers on a recruiting visit.

Plummer cried the day his friend died, he said, and wore a No. 40 decal — Tillman's number with the Cardinals — on his helmet until the NFL fashion police threatened to fine him.

"Inside, there's a fire that burns, and sometimes you get really upset because we all know what happened," Plummer said. "You know going into war whether you believe in it or not. I don't think we should have done it, but I knew I was going to support Pat and the troops when they kind of made him into this big figure. And for them to cover things up is just unjust to his legacy, and to every solider that's out there.

"His parents and his family deserve for his legacy to be cleaned up and have some finality brought to it and come to a conclusion. And I don't want to call anybody out, because they're working on it. Just put yourself in the shoes of his parents and his family. … You know whatever the news is, if it's hard, it's not going to be as hard as finding out the day he got killed. What's worse than that? So let's find out what really happened.

"Hopefully," Plummer said, "they'll come to an answer."

When Richard Tillman was 18, he moved to Los Angeles to try stand-up comedy and an acting career that, so far, has consisted of a handful of bit movie parts — the latest in a film called "Broken Bridges." Before he left northern California seven years ago, he said, his oldest brother put him through countless questions about his future, about why he would leave home for a risky life in show business.

Richard had an answer.

"I don't think [Pat] realized how much I got from making him and Kevin laugh," he told ESPN.com. "I don't think he realized it impacted me enough to make me to come down here [to L.A.]. I think it was maybe a little shocking to him, especially because he told me once, 'I didn't realize you had a personality until you were about 15.' It's one of those things that — he was fine with it. He supported and believed in what I was doing. … He was never anyone to deter you from doing what you wanted to do. It was more that he wanted to have a better understanding of why you do it."

The news in April 2004 that Pat Tillman had died in Afghanistan was, of course, difficult for Richard. The news five weeks later, long after the May 3 memorial service in San Jose, that he had died from friendly fire hit him, he said, "like a ton of bricks."

It felt, he said, like losing him all over again.

"I am Pat's youngest brother," Richard said. "So as far as I'm concerned, Superman died."

Mike Fish is an investigative reporter for ESPN.com. He can be reached at [email protected].
 
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