The FBI Spy
It took 15 years to discover
one of the most damaging cases of espionage in U.S. history.
An inside look at
the secret life, and final capture, of Robert Hanssen
By
JOHANNA MCGEARY
Those who
betray must always fear betrayal. It happened to Robert Philip
Hanssen a little after 8 p.m. on a Sunday night, just five
weeks shy of his planned retirement from the spy game. Ten
armed FBI agents shivered in the cold as they watched Hanssen
walk up to a "dead drop" code-named Ellis, a spot under a
bridge in a quiet suburban Virginia park where he hid a plastic
garbage bag full of secret U.S. documents. As he emerged from
the woods of Foxstone Park, the agents, guns drawn, surrounded
fellow FBI spy catcher Bob Hanssen, clapped handcuffs on his
wrist and began reading him his Miranda rights. Some FBI men
plunged into the darkness, backtracking along Hanssen's path
to recover the bag. Not far away, in nearby Arlington, another
team of agents was covertly watching a second drop site called
Lewis, to see if Russian intelligence officers showed up to
reclaim a package Hanssen had not picked up. It contained
$50,000 in $100 bills that the FBI believed was the payment
for Hanssen's purloined material. When the Russians didn't
show, the agents collected the cash as evidence.
Hanssen seemed thoroughly shocked and surprised by his arrest. But he was not
nearly as shocked as the FBI. When Hanssen's arrest was revealed last Tuesday,
FBI Director Louis Freeh called his alleged double dealing the "most traitorous
actions imaginable" against the U.S. and warned that the damage could prove
"exceptionally grave." It was one of the worst failures of American intelligence
ever and a brutal humiliation for the FBI, which had not caught on to Hanssen
for 15 years. Says an investigator inside the case: "This guy almost committed the
perfect crime."
The intelligence community has launched a deep probe into exactly what
Hanssen may have turned over to Moscow during those years, but a colleague
believes he "gave the whole bleeping thing away." Hanssen had extraordinary
access to precious U.S. secrets invaluable to the intelligence services of first the
Soviet Union and now Russia and delivered upwards of 6,000 pages of classified
stuff into their hands. In the process, analysts believe he compromised every
important human and electronic penetration of Russia for the past 15 years. A
blue-ribbon panel has been set up to undertake a postmortem of the FBI, to
determine how to thwart other moles. As Freeh admitted frankly, "We don't say,
at this stage, that we have a system that can prevent this type of conduct."
Everyone who knows the dour-faced Hanssen professed astonishment that he
could be one of the great spies of the age. What, we want to understand, makes a
man betray, and how did he get away with it for so long? Here, from the
100-page affidavit filed by prosecutors and from Time's own sources, is the story
behind the alleged case against Hanssen.
The Spy Who Loved Spying
A good spy needs a good cover, and Hanssen had one of the best. He looked the
quintessential suburban dad, devoted to his wife and six kids, working a
government job to pay for a four-bedroom split-level house on a cul-de-sac in a
modest Virginia neighborhood, Catholic school and college for the kids, and three
aging cars. Neighbors often saw him walking through a neighborhood park at
night, letting his dog romp, though he rarely stopped to chat. He piled the family
into a van every Sunday for Mass at the same church FBI boss Louis Freeh
attended. He and his wife Bonnie belong to the church's conservative Opus Dei
society. Bonnie is a devout, spiritual woman, much admired among her
neighbors for her sunny optimism and her skill at child rearing. If the reserved,
aloof Hanssen was less popular, he was still regarded by those who knew him as a
good father, good husband, good professional. And a good son. "He has always been
very honest and upright," said his mother Vivian Hanssen, 88, reached by Time
at her home in Venice, Fla. "I don't understand how he could be leading a double
life. I hope there are extenuating circumstances."
Yet Hanssen was in the perfect position to spy on his country. For 25 years, he
rose through the ranks of counterintelligence agents who toiled on the FBI's "Dark
Side," as insiders call the highly secretive National Security Division. In 1978,
when Hanssen was posted to the big New York field division, most rookie agents
required to work counterintelligence hated the job. The hot career path lay in the
dramatic bank robberies and Cosa Nostra cases of the criminal division.
Intelligence surveillances took years, decades even, and seldom if ever resulted in
actual indictments.
But Hanssen actually seemed to like the slow, intricate building
of counterintelligence cases and was well suited to it. If
criminal agents called the other realm "Sleepy Hollow," the
NSD boys scoffed at their rivals as "knuckle draggers." As
an agent who worked with Hanssen in the Soviet unit put it,
"The counterintelligence agents read the New York Times, and
the criminal agents read the Daily News. Espionage cases are
the best cases in the world because they're very cerebral."
So was Hanssen. He read voraciously, everything from spy novels
to Marxist tomes to the richly detailed logs filed by surveillance
squads overnight. "He really wanted to do counterintelligence
work," says the agent. MORE>>
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March 5, 2001 | No. 9
COVER
STORIES
The
Spy Next Door
As FBI agents collected possible evidence at the Virginia home of colleague
Robert Philip Hanssen, the world asked new questions about an old trade
SOUTH
PACIFIC
AUSTRALIA:
Whistling in the Dark
An athlete's tell-all about drugs in sport has made him a target
SPORT
MOTOR RACING:
Smells Like Teen Spirit
Young prodigies are shaking up Formula One's old guard
T
H E A R T S
BOOKS:
Amy Tan on fame, fears and her fine new novel
MUSIC:
Coldplay challenges Radiohead
EXHIBITIONS:
The Etruscans conquer Venice
TRAVELER'S
ADVISORY
AUSTRALIAN
SCENE: Hindmarsh Island gets its bridge
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