Gordon Friedman

(Salem, Ore.) Statesman Journal

BURNS, Ore. — Dave Ward has stood on the battlefields of Somalia and Afghanistan. But he has made his mark by fighting for peace at home.

A man who reads the Bible and the Constitution in bed, Ward is the sheriff of Harney County, Ore., the site of a battlefield of a different sort. For the past month, Ward negotiated to try to bring a peaceful end to the armed standoff between federal agents and militants holed up at the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, who were protesting what they say is federal tyranny in the nation’s West.

“We want to see them go home to their families and consider how their actions affect this community,” he said. “We all want a safe resolution to this situation and to go back to our peaceful way of life.”

Ward, 42, an ex-Army combat medic who is as husky and bearded as the militants on the refuge, found himself thrust into the chief negotiator's role throughout the tense, month-long standoff. And even after the FBI and Oregon state police brought matters to a deadly conclusion Tuesday, people in Burns aren't going to forget "Sheriff Dave" and what he tried to do to find a non-violent solution to an armed impasse on the Western range.

At one point during a recent six-hour meeting with chief protester Ammon Bundy and his guards in the sheriff’s personal office, Ward never asked that they remove the guns they carried, a fact that did not sit well with Steve Grasty, the county's top official and judge.

“Matter of fact, I told him after that, don’t you let that happen in this courthouse,” Grasty recalls.

Ward, known for his strength — he holds the record for fastest knockout in the Fort Bliss boxing tournament — was privately angry with the occupiers, but he pressed on through stagnant negotiations, according to his parents, Jim and Linda Ward. On Jan. 7, Dave Ward met with Bundy at a desolate intersection, barren except for sagebrush and sky. In the meeting, which was videotaped, the sheriff offers Bundy and his clan safe passage from the refuge if they will surrender.

“I think that there are some positives that could come out of this,” the sheriff tells Bundy.

“We’re getting ignored again, sir,” Bundy replies, angry over the U.S. government's refusal to meet their demand that federally managed land be turned over to county-level control.

The lawman and the outlaw then shake hands and part ways.

The situation escalated. Ward’s wife had her tires slashed. He arranged a safe house for her where she still remains. His parents were followed by militants as they left their granddaughter’s Christmas play. The people of Burns, angry at the occupiers, were becoming miffed with Ward’s perceived inaction.

Jim Ward, 78, said his son wanted to find a way to end the conflict without bloodshed, focusing on a mantra he has always preached: “Do the right thing. Then suffer the consequences.”

The sheriff’s mother, Linda Ward, 74, said her son confided in her that he did all he could. It wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry that there was a death but I’m very proud of how he handled it,” Linda said. She believes her son’s military experience is helping him keep a level head.

In Somalia, when he was a teenager and an Army medic, Ward exercised a gentle hand when dealing with patients, his parents say. A United Nations Peacekeeper who had his legs blown off needed to be transported, and Ward simply picked him up and carried him. Later, he told his father it was surprising to feel how light a man is when he has no legs.

By contrast, Ward doesn't speak of his time in Afghanistan — not even to his parents. From military documents, they learned that their son, who was a machine gunner on patrols, had trained more than 1,500 Afghan soldiers. Shocked by the lack of infrastructure, he created a literacy program and a bank for the Afghan trainees.

Ward brought his work ethic back to Oregon. He was the top cadet in his police training class, and won awards for marksmanship and understanding defensive tactics.

His résumé impressed Grasty, the top county official. When the previous sheriff resigned, Ward was appointed to take his place.

A year to the day after he took his oath as sheriff, the occupation began. Harney County is a massive place, the size of Massachusetts and dotted with blink-and-you-miss-them places like Wagontire, Ore., with a population of two.

Ward’s peace efforts ultimately ended in failure. On Tuesday night, militia leaders left the wildlife refuge to attend a meeting in another town. Their convoy was heading into a trap. Federal agents and state police had set up roadblocks and spike strips along the militants’ route. They were being watched from above by an FBI plane.

Police pulled over the convoy, with militia leader Ammon Bundy among them. Occupants of one vehicle were arrested without incident. But an FBI video shows an SUV being driven by LaVoy Finicum, 56, speeding toward the roadblock. Finicum nearly runs over a federal agent and crashes into a snowbank. He hops out of the car and, as police holler for him to surrender, he reaches for the loaded 9mm semiautomatic pistol in his jacket pocket.

In a matter of seconds, the officers fire, and Finicum dies in the snow.

Ward's mother recalls that her son came to see her right after the shooting, the first time she had seen him in more than a week. Ward sat on the couch, wearing a defeated look.

“Mom, you know I don’t like to lose,” he told her.