How I Learned to Love (Detecting) the Bomb
On the trail of a suspected letter bomber, our intrepid correspondent attends the academy that trains postal inspectors to prevent explosives from moving through the mail.

Web exclusive
By Raina Kelley
Newsweek
Updated: 1:55 p.m. ET March 23, 2007

March 23, 2007 - When I told my mother I was going to bomb school, she hung up on me. A misunderstanding, I thought, and called back and told her about the U.S. Postal Inspection Service Training Academy I had just visited. “I know what to look for in package bombs.” The line went dead again. Finally on our fourth connection, she explained that talking about “you-know-whats” on the phone is a bad idea; the government may be listening. So if the National Security Agency computers tapped into our lines that night, let me explain: I was wildly singing the praises of the U.S. Postal Inspection Service.

Founded in 1880, the service, which employs 1,750 men and women (known as inspectors), is the law-enforcement arm of the U.S. Postal Service. Many of their cases involve mail theft, money laundering, illegal drug trafficking and child pornography. In 1958, they ensured that Harry Winston’s Hope Diamond, then valued at $1 million, arrived safely and soundly at its new home, the Smithsonian. (They shipped it via registered mail, at a cost of $145.29.) The postal inspectors were an integral part of the multiagency task force that arrested the Unabomber in 1998, step one in the process that landed him behind bars for life. And they arrested Jim Bakker in 1989 for $178 million dollars worth of mail fraud (Bakker was convicted and served hard time). If you use the mail in the commission of a crime, you might expect a visit. As for me, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as postal inspectors, and it certainly never occurred to me that they’d carry a gun and a badge. (Insert "going postal" joke here.)

My eyes were opened almost a month ago, when I attended a media briefing on the threat posed to America by a guy called The Bishop. The Bishop is the self-awarded nickname of a suspect who has been threatening individuals and financial firms with letters and inoperative pipe bombs—with the promise of real explosives to come. He first caught the attention of the postal authorities on Jan. 26, 2007, when he mailed bombs to American Century Financial Services and Janus Small Cap in Denver. The Janus pipe bomb was rerouted to Chicago and intercepted by police. Packed with a note that read “Bang, You’re Dead” and “Tic-Toc,” these IEDs failed to explode because they were missing very specific parts that the Bishop may have left out on purpose to instill even more fear in the recipients. The postal inspectors are now the lead investigators in the hunt for the Bishop, with the FBI and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives playing supporting roles. If that sounds unusual to you, it isn’t. The postal inspectors have their own very high-tech forensic laboratory in Dulles, Va., and, with more than 700,000 employees nationwide, and retail operations in virtually every town in America, they have a lot of people to protect. So, when they asked me to visit their academy to see what a postal inspector does, I jumped at the chance.

At the 83-acre William F. Bolger Center for Leadership Development in Potomac, Md., I played inspector for a day. The Bolger center is home to the Postal Inspection Service’s training academy for both new inspectors and midcareer development. I started with a PowerPoint presentation by Inspector Tripp Brinkley, who works in the Dangerous Mail Investigations and Homeland Security Group. Brinkley showed me a couple of (nonexplosive) pipe bombs that he put together at home after dinner. It’s scary how easy it seems to wreak havoc. But Brinkley’s presentation also offered some comfort: of the 240 billion-plus pieces of mail that went through the system in 2006, only two contained bombs; both were discovered by postal inspectors before anyone was hurt. So the Bishop is an unusual case. The materials for a bomb may be simple to find, but building one can be complicated, and it’s easy to blow yourself up. Still, if that pancake mix you mailed bursts before it gets to your mom, a postal employee may ask an inspector to check it for anthrax. Or if you left batteries in that remote-control dog for your nephew, the growling sound the package makes could get it blown up with a water cannon.

Following the PowerPoint, I went to look at the inspectors’ bag of toys: field deployable X-ray machines to determine if that suspicious package is dangerous; a mobile X-ray van for screening lots of mail quickly, and a tricked-out Chevy Suburban for dangerous mail investigators complete with a huge forensic kit, handheld X-ray units and all the secret recipes they have to defuse potential biohazards. There were more than enough tricks of the trade to give those Hummers in "CSI: Miami" a run for their money. I walked through the mock post office that inspectors use to train newbies on how to investigate an on-site robbery—and the apartment where they practice making arrests and serving search warrants. I looked in on a classroom full of inspectors-in-training learning how to subdue and handcuff a prisoner. Another class was getting lectured on how to interrogate suspects (apparently, you can’t promise them their freedom). But hands down, my favorite part of the day was firearms training. I was given a mock pistol and told to practice with a bunch of “Shoot or Don’t Shoot?” computer simulations. How’d I do? Well, in my first outing, I went down in a hail of bullets. Then I shot an innocent bystander in a crowded bar. In my last round, I was winged by a couple of bullets and got my partner killed.

In short, I don’t think I’d make it as a postal inspector. But I suspect the mail is safer for it.

Postscript: If you have any information about the Bishop case, the U.S. Postal Inspection Service is offering a $100,000 award for information leading to the apprehension of the person responsible for mailing those threatening letters and IEDs. The bombs were mailed from the Rolling Meadows, Ill., post office near Chicago, and the USPI has released a sketch of the person believed to have done the mailing. Anyone with information should call 312-983-7901.