Lethal Passage_ The Story of a Gun - Erik Larson [58]
Today a chastened ATF (rescued at the last minute, as I’ll show, by a most improbable angel, the NRA itself) describes its mission in more modest terms. “There’s been a misconception that we’re in the prevention business,” said Jack Killorin, a former law-enforcement agent who now heads the bureau’s public affairs office. (A plaque on the wall behind his desk identifies him as Jack “Ganja” Killorin, commemorating his role in an ATF raid against a drug dealer.) “We’re not in the prevention business. We’re in the business of catching those people who do wrongful acts, and causing them to be punished, and hopefully finding enough of that to create some deterrence.”
Where once the bureau prided itself on running firearms sting operations, it now describes even its battles against illegal traffickers as a means not so much of halting the proliferation of guns, but of protecting and maintaining the paper trail that tracks a gun from manufacturer to distributor to dealer and finally to first purchaser. “Illegal traffickers in weapons inhibit the effectiveness of the tracing function and must be identified and put out of business,” said a 1992 report from ATF’s divisional office in Detroit. “The integrity of the tracing system must be preserved to ensure that valuable leads continue to be provided to law-enforcement agencies.”
As things stand now, federal gun laws foster a built-in disincentive to rigorous investigation. Gun-purchase records, the most crucial element of the tracing network, remain in the hands of the dealers themselves. When riled, dealers can make the workday lives of ATF agents far more difficult. Good industry relations can mean the difference between merely having to call the dealer on the phone or making a personal visit, a significant bureaucratic obstacle for an undermanned agency. “If it were not for cooperative [dealers],” noted a 1992 report from the bureau’s Detroit office, “ATF’s task in locating and removing illegal firearms sources would be dealt a serious blow.”
All this, however, adds up to a reactive orientation that helps bolster the culture of nonresponsibility in the firearms industry, with the unintended effect of leaving all but the most blatantly crooked dealers free to push the limits of the law.
In fairness, ATF stands in an almost untenable position. It must police the nation’s 245,000 licensed firearms dealers—known in the industry as FFLs, or Federal Firearms Licensees—with only four hundred inspectors, each of whom must also conduct inspections of wineries, liquor distributors, distilleries, breweries, tobacco producers, and the country’s 10,500 explosives users and manufacturers. This ratio of inspectors to licensees is an improvement, by the way, over the rough-and-ready 1960s when only five inspectors faced the daunting task of inspecting the records of one hundred thousand gun dealers.
At the same time, the agency finds itself obliged by law to grant a firearms license to virtually anyone who asks for one, provided the applicant has $30 to cover the licensing fee. In 1990, 34,336 red-blooded Americans applied for an FFL. ATF denied licenses to only 75. Another 1,408 withdrew or abandoned their applications, yielding a combined rejection/withdrawal rate of about 4 percent. If the current rate of licensing continues, the number of FFLs will double through the 1990s to well over half a million licensed weapons dealers, even though the fortunes of domestic arms manufacturers are likely to continue their current decline. Increased competition for the shrinking gun-consumer dollar can only increase the already prevalent tendency among dealers to do only the minimum required by law to keep guns out of the wrong hands.
Depending on one’s stance in the gun debate, the application process is either too