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On Leon Bearden's orders, no ramps were rolled up to the silent plane. A fuel truck drove under its huge wing, and the ground crew hooked up a fuel line. "It was strange," recalls Second Officer Norman Simmons. "A routine landing in every way, except that we didn't unload passengers or baggage." Aboard the jet the passengers sat in shocked silence as a hostess instructed them to stay in their seats: "We may be flying on to Havana." Cody Bearden lounged in the doorway of the cabin, casually swinging his .45 revolver and keeping a sullen eye on the frightened passengers. Then a pregnant female passenger seemed to be approaching hysteria about her plight, and Leon Bearden apparently thought he could see an uncontrollable situation in the making. He recruited four passengers to remain as voluntary hostages, and allowed the other passengers to leave. One among the four was a lanky, laconic fellow named Leonard Gilman, who happened to be an off-duty U.S. border patrol officer.
"We've Got to Have Fuel." Dawn seeped over the mountains around the airport as Pilot Rickards, in communication with Continental officials in the tower, continued to stall for time. Rickards told the increasingly nervous gunmen that Havana's José Marti Airport would not accommodate the huge jetliner, offered instead to substitute a smaller DC-7 already en route to El Paso for the flight. By this time, the El Paso drama had become an affair of state; if, as was automatically assumed, the hijackers were indeed Castro henchmen, drastic U.S. steps might have been required. In Washington, President Kennedy was kept informed about the situation. He gave a flat no to the proposed exchange of planes, ordered that any other action be left to the discretion of the lawmen on the scene. Through the long hours, the embattled hijackers argued with their captives. At last, getting nowhere, Leon Bearden said that he intended to take off in the 707, come what may. And to emphasize his determination, he fired a bullet between Second Officer Simmons' feet. "Things are getting desperate on this plane," Rickards told the tower. "We've got to have fuel." The purposefully dawdling ground crew quickly filled the tanks, unhooked the line. As the big engines screamed and the plane taxied toward a takeoff, a motorcade of lawmen suddenly raced out of their hiding places and poured a fusillade of machine-gun and rifle bullets into the undercarriage. The 707 jerked to a stop, its eight tires flattened (see cut) and the No. 2 engine knocked out.
The Beardens sat in stunned silence. Their wild scheme had obviously failed, and the captive Gilman, could see their desperation increasing. FBI Agent Francis Crosby boarded the plane to negotiate. Becoming hysterical, Bearden said that he would commit suicide before he would let himself be killed or captured. Seeing an opening, the Border Patrol's Gilman shot out his fist, dropped the older hijacker with an uppercut so powerful that it fractured his own fist. The FBI man and Simmons sprang on young Cody Bearden and, after ten grueling hours, it was all over. The Beardens, handcuffed, were led off to face life sentences on charges of kidnaping and transporting a stolen plane. Their trip to Cuba would have to wait.