By Christopher Williams,Staff Writer

AUBURN – The man held a handgun as he drove his red van. At times, he pointed the gun at his head.

In his other hand was a cell phone. He had called 911.

Detective Rielly Bryant was in the courthouse. He had been briefed about the man. Bryant picked up the office phone and told the man to put down the gun. He told him to pull over, park his van on the Auburn street and climb out.

The man said he wouldn’t. He kept driving, slowly. His four-way flashers blinked through town.

Soon, he was in Lewiston. He said he was going to the hospital. He told Bryant he needed help. He said he might shoot himself.

The man was tired. He hadn’t slept in days. He was supposed to be in court for a trial on sex charges. He was going to the hospital instead.

Bryant knew what to say. The Androscoggin County Sheriff’s deputy had been trained in crisis negotiation at an FBI seminar.

Bryant, a sergeant, has been a full-time deputy since 1998. Before his training, he had been in similar situations. Twice. Both times in Poland.

The first time had ended well.

A man had barricaded himself in his house. Police had an arrest warrant. They surrounded the place. Bryant and other police talked to the man on and off for 10 hours. Then he gave himself up.

The second time Bryant tried to talk a man down it ended badly.

After burning down his house, that man sat on the tailgate of his pickup truck, a rifle in each hand. Bryant talked to him for three hours. Then the man stood up and walked toward the woods. He turned and pointed one of the guns at a police officer. He was shot dead.

Put down the gun’

Bryant knew he needed to keep the man in the van talking. Keep him on track. Tell him what he needed to do if he wanted hospital care.

But the man was making demands now. He wanted the fleet of police cruisers tailing him to stay farther back. He wanted his lawyer.

Bryant repeated his instructions. “Put down the gun and pull over.”

Eventually, the van pulled into the emergency entrance at St. Mary’s Regional Medical Center. More than a dozen police cars followed, blocking its escape. Officers jumped from their cruisers, guns drawn.

The man was panicked. He told Bryant the police were too close.

Bryant talked to the scene commander who pulled back his officers and their cruisers.

Then Bryant’s phone went dead.

That gave him the chance he needed. He picked up his cell phone and called back.

Now he was mobile.

The man’s lawyer was at the courthouse for the trial. Bryant found him and drove him to the hospital.

Bryant told the man he was bringing his attorney. Once the man was safely inside the hospital, he could see his lawyer. Bryant promised.

He knew he could only make promises he could keep. That was important. It had been part of the training.

So was something called “active listening.” It meant asking questions to learn what’s bothering the person.

“For most people, that’s all they want,” Bryant, 32, said later in an interview. His even tone and slight twang recalled Andy Griffith. “They just want somebody to listen to them and hear what they’re saying.”

Listening is a big part of police work, he said. So is knowing what to say.

“You just deal with so many people so often doing this job over the years that you just learn that gift and you’re able to talk to people.”

Using his training

The man asked Bryant if he believed in God. He asked if Bryant prayed.

Bryant didn’t answer the question. His training had also taught him what not to say.

He knew to stay away from talking about the man’s court case. Whether the man was guilty or not. That could set him off. Talk of religion and prayer also were out.

“I learned not to go down that road,” Bryant said. “Obviously, the fear is that if somebody wants to start talking about praying, they’re heading down that road to: I’m ready to do what I need to do to hurt myself.’ So, we obviously avoid that at all cost.”

Instead, Bryant used his training to change the subject.

He said, “That’s really not what we’re here to talk about. We’re here to talk about making you safe and getting you into the hospital.”

The man started talking again about wanting to harm himself. He said he wasn’t able to go on. He wasn’t sure he could even get out of the van.

Bryant talked to the man about surrendering. He still held the gun and kept putting it to his head.

Bryant reminded the man of the good faith he had shown. He had moved the police and their cruisers back. He had brought the man’s lawyer.

Bryant said now it was time to help him out.

Several times, the man put the gun down on the seat next to him. When he did, he would raise his hand and wave.

Bryant stood at the trunk of a cruiser parked behind the van. He wore a bullet-proof vest under his tan suit coat. He could see the man’s free hand through the driver’s side-view mirror and through the van’s tinted rear window.

But, each time, the man picked the gun back up.

He said several times he wanted to hang up, smoke a cigarette and think about things.

Bryant told him he couldn’t do that.

“If you move your hand, I need to know why,” Bryant told him. “We don’t want anyone to make a rash move.” There could be no misunderstandings.

The man vomited. Again and again. Bryant told him to put the gun down, fearing it might go off accidentally.

Bryant talked the man into shutting off the van. He put the gun on the seat. He rolled down the window.

Bryant told him to put his hand out the window. He did. Bryant said he should reach for the door handle from the outside. The man did.

Each time, Bryant thanked the man.

Then came the final step. He told him to push the door open with his foot.

The man wouldn’t.

The surrender

He had glimpsed men dressed in fatigues and helmets toting assault rifles surrounding his van. He pulled his hand back, rolled up the window and reached for his gun.

Bryant, meanwhile, had moved behind a pickup truck parked next to the van. A state police negotiator stood at his side, listening in.

The man was frantic. The Maine State Police Tactical Team would shoot him, tackle him, injure him.

Bryant had to start over.

He had to get him back on track. Back to where they had been, on the verge of surrender.

If the man would follow instructions, Bryant repeated, nobody would get hurt.

The man was quicker to talk down this time. He could see clearly what the police were prepared to do.

Bryant gave short, concise commands. The man followed them.

He put the gun down. He rolled down the window. He opened his door and put his hands out.

Bryant’s phone went dead, again. Its batteries had died.

It didn’t matter.

The man was handcuffed, searched and put in a wheelchair, then he was rolled into the hospital.

Bryant walked into the building and found the elderly, bearded man. They were just a few feet apart, seeing each other face to face.

The man recognized Bryant from the image in his rearview mirror. He reached out a hand. Bryant shook it.

“I thanked him for having everything end up the way it ended up,” he said.

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