Wally's War

Walter Philbrick's Hollywood lair is the one-stop shop for all your post-9/11 needs - and home to some truly odd characters

A A A Comments By Wyatt Olson Thursday, Jan 24 2002

...continued from page 5

Suddenly, Fernando Gallego, the mad bomber from earlier that evening, yanks Dyer from her seat and puts a rubber knife to her throat.

"What do you do?" Ricardo asks the passengers.

Joshua Prezant

It's out there: Walter Philbrick's International Protective Services offers the public some small defense against future terrorist attacks

More About

Like this Story?

Sign up for the Weekly Newsletter: Our weekly feature stories, movie reviews, calendar picks and more - minus the newsprint and sent directly to your inbox.

"Wait and observe," says one man.

"Look around and assess the situation," another man chimes in.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong," Ricardo lashes out. "How many of you have kids?" Most raise their hands. "What would you do if it was your kid up there? Would you get up?"

"Absolutely," asserts one man who has 2- and 3-year-old kids.

"If you're going to react at all, it's got to be immediately," Ricardo instructs. "You know what the real killer is? Time. Fear gets worse as time goes on. The minute they take a hostage, you're going to do something." Ricardo moves toward Gallego and taps two passengers on the way, instructing them, "Let's go!" He stops and says, "What I've done is become a leader. People will act when they're led."

Philbrick watches some of the self-defense exercises from the back of the room, at other times answering phone calls and talking to customers. After one conversation, he can't resist approaching a New Times writer who is observing the course. "This is the kind of stuff I get," he says. He hands over a memo that an acquaintance living in Hollywood had just delivered to him. "He thinks his neighbor is a terrorist because he fits the profile." The memo points out that the neighbor, among other things, is a foreigner, pays rent and bills in cash, and has gotten checks from a Texas-based outfit called the Homeland Foundation -- which is suspiciously similar to the Holy Land Foundation that the federal government claims is a front for terrorist fundraising, Philbrick points out. Residents have handed him three similar reports about other individuals this fall.

"I'll have to call the FBI in the morning and tell them about this," he says, sounding more annoyed than anything else. "I can hear them now. They'll say, "Philbrick, what is it this time?'"