http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/135054825_rangers23m.html
Rifle-toting Oregon militia hunts wrongdoing in the woods
By Mark Baker
The (Eugene) Register-Guard
JUNCTION CITY, Ore. — Paul Ehrhardt holds an AR-15 rifle, the civilian version of an M-16, between his legs while explaining to fellow Oregon Ranger Gary McFarland how to work a two-way radio in case McFarland falls off a cliff or worse — someone shoots at him.
Then Ehrhardt, standing outside his small office — which is also the home where he was born just south of here 55 years ago — cracks a joke.
"I don't like all these guys around me with knives," he says on a warm evening, referring to the other three rangers about to go on patrol with him, all with sheathed knives strapped to their belts. "That's kind of scary."
But it's time to get serious. And that means patrol time for the Oregon Rangers.
Ehrhardt, a volunteer with the Junction City Fire Department, started the citizens militia last summer, but it's something that had brewed in his mind for years.
While volunteering for the Bureau of Land Management, scouting for martens in the Coast Range, Ehrhardt stumbled on garbage sites, dumped methamphetamine labs and small marijuana grows.
"I just get sick of our woods literally being taken over by the stuff," he says of marijuana patches that pepper the land.
"There's not enough cops out there, and there's not going to be. The only way any of it's going to change is if the public gets involved. And most people won't do it, and that's what makes the problem worse."
The rangers are not law enforcement, though they do have local authorities concerned.
They have bought uniforms, made badges and carry weapons to protect themselves. But they have no more authority than any other citizen.
"I wonder what their motivation is," said Lane County Sheriff Jan Clements, who has never encountered the rangers. "It's kind of like 'wannabe' police officers."
Ehrhardt, 55, and the 10 other members of the Oregon Rangers Association — including his wife, Robin, and their daughter, Alicia, and her husband — say that isn't true.
They aren't 'wannabes,' and they aren't vigilantes, as others have labeled them, Ehrhardt says.
"A vigilante is someone who takes the law into their own hands," he says, "catches someone and then hangs them without a trial."
The Oregon Rangers come from various backgrounds. Four are women. Two work for Les Schwab Tires in Junction City. One is a rancher. Another is a truck driver.
Nearly all of the Rangers have some military training and background or firefighting experience.
They use handheld global-positioning systems to track marijuana grows, making maps of forest land to show where the plants are.
Some of the rangers say they have been trained as Army Rangers or Navy Seals and in SWAT-team tactics. They also have a canine unit, horses, one plane and one boat.
Ehrhardt has made a few reports to the Bureau of Land Management about garbage dumps and marijuana grows, said Adam Sully, a law-enforcement officer with the Bureau of Land Management office in Eugene.
But the agency didn't have enough information to make an arrest, Sully said.
The rangers photograph dump sites and marijuana grows and plan to install cameras in the woods this summer to try to capture growers.
Ehrhardt and his wife own a private security firm, Oregon Protection Services, which is licensed by the state Department of Public Safety Standards and Training.
Their main source of income is from their two adult foster-care homes, Nature's Way and Robin's Nest, which each have about four residents. The Oregon Rangers office is there, too.
That's where Ehrhardt has been training the rangers Tuesday nights on topics ranging from how to recognize marijuana to how to give cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
On Sundays, they go on patrol, usually heading into the Oregon Coast Range mountains or toward the Cascades.
Ehrhardt drives a Jeep Cherokee, slapped with a star-shaped Oregon Rangers decal.
He is certified by the state to train security officers, and all the rangers are certified "armed security officers," he says. They are not out to arrest people, he says, adding that the law allows citizens to make arrests if they see a crime committed.
"If I have to take action, I'll take action," Ehrhardt says. "But 99 percent of the time, I can wait for the police."
Clements, the sheriff, says that when it comes to a group of citizens hunting for marijuana operations or other illegal activity, "I'm not going to endorse that."
That should be left to traditional law enforcement, he says.
Yet, he acknowledges there is nothing illegal about what the rangers are doing, unless they misrepresent themselves as law enforcement, Clements says.
"They're on a fine line," he says. "The question is, what perception do they leave with people? And are they creating a situation that would endanger themselves or anyone else?"
Ehrhardt has worked as a volunteer for different law-enforcement agencies, including the state police, and teaches classes on handgun safety, first-responder training and emergency medical assistance.
He says the rangers simply want to make a difference, and most of their work is aimed at being good Samaritans, helping stranded motorists or heart-attack victims.
"We need to get the word out that we're not law enforcement," he says, "that we'll be there when your car breaks down or you get hurt. I want (people) to have somebody to call. Most people shy away from law enforcement, and I really don't want that reputation because we want to help people."
Ranger Bryon Barnes, 38, who grew up on a farm, agrees: "We're not just out here to find wrongdoing. "We're out here to help people, which is something the police used to do — stop and help."
Ehrhardt admits to having a sour attitude toward traditional law enforcement.
"I've worked for a couple of different law-enforcement outfits, and they don't like each other," he says, standing in his back yard, next to the shooting range he was using to train the rangers until the county said the area was not zoned for that.
"Police agencies have a habit of bad-mouthing each other."
Junction City Police Chief Ken Hancock wants to have a meeting with the rangers. Although they are not operating within the city limits, he is curious and concerned about their intentions.
"I personally am always concerned when I hear about people picking up guns and going out to enforce the law," he says.
"I appreciate their concern, but I think these sort of things have to be dealt with professionally and carefully. The potential for tragedy is there."
Rifle-toting Oregon militia hunts wrongdoing in the woods
By Mark Baker
The (Eugene) Register-Guard
JUNCTION CITY, Ore. — Paul Ehrhardt holds an AR-15 rifle, the civilian version of an M-16, between his legs while explaining to fellow Oregon Ranger Gary McFarland how to work a two-way radio in case McFarland falls off a cliff or worse — someone shoots at him.
Then Ehrhardt, standing outside his small office — which is also the home where he was born just south of here 55 years ago — cracks a joke.
"I don't like all these guys around me with knives," he says on a warm evening, referring to the other three rangers about to go on patrol with him, all with sheathed knives strapped to their belts. "That's kind of scary."
But it's time to get serious. And that means patrol time for the Oregon Rangers.
Ehrhardt, a volunteer with the Junction City Fire Department, started the citizens militia last summer, but it's something that had brewed in his mind for years.
While volunteering for the Bureau of Land Management, scouting for martens in the Coast Range, Ehrhardt stumbled on garbage sites, dumped methamphetamine labs and small marijuana grows.
"I just get sick of our woods literally being taken over by the stuff," he says of marijuana patches that pepper the land.
"There's not enough cops out there, and there's not going to be. The only way any of it's going to change is if the public gets involved. And most people won't do it, and that's what makes the problem worse."
The rangers are not law enforcement, though they do have local authorities concerned.
They have bought uniforms, made badges and carry weapons to protect themselves. But they have no more authority than any other citizen.
"I wonder what their motivation is," said Lane County Sheriff Jan Clements, who has never encountered the rangers. "It's kind of like 'wannabe' police officers."
Ehrhardt, 55, and the 10 other members of the Oregon Rangers Association — including his wife, Robin, and their daughter, Alicia, and her husband — say that isn't true.
They aren't 'wannabes,' and they aren't vigilantes, as others have labeled them, Ehrhardt says.
"A vigilante is someone who takes the law into their own hands," he says, "catches someone and then hangs them without a trial."
The Oregon Rangers come from various backgrounds. Four are women. Two work for Les Schwab Tires in Junction City. One is a rancher. Another is a truck driver.
Nearly all of the Rangers have some military training and background or firefighting experience.
They use handheld global-positioning systems to track marijuana grows, making maps of forest land to show where the plants are.
Some of the rangers say they have been trained as Army Rangers or Navy Seals and in SWAT-team tactics. They also have a canine unit, horses, one plane and one boat.
Ehrhardt has made a few reports to the Bureau of Land Management about garbage dumps and marijuana grows, said Adam Sully, a law-enforcement officer with the Bureau of Land Management office in Eugene.
But the agency didn't have enough information to make an arrest, Sully said.
The rangers photograph dump sites and marijuana grows and plan to install cameras in the woods this summer to try to capture growers.
Ehrhardt and his wife own a private security firm, Oregon Protection Services, which is licensed by the state Department of Public Safety Standards and Training.
Their main source of income is from their two adult foster-care homes, Nature's Way and Robin's Nest, which each have about four residents. The Oregon Rangers office is there, too.
That's where Ehrhardt has been training the rangers Tuesday nights on topics ranging from how to recognize marijuana to how to give cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
On Sundays, they go on patrol, usually heading into the Oregon Coast Range mountains or toward the Cascades.
Ehrhardt drives a Jeep Cherokee, slapped with a star-shaped Oregon Rangers decal.
He is certified by the state to train security officers, and all the rangers are certified "armed security officers," he says. They are not out to arrest people, he says, adding that the law allows citizens to make arrests if they see a crime committed.
"If I have to take action, I'll take action," Ehrhardt says. "But 99 percent of the time, I can wait for the police."
Clements, the sheriff, says that when it comes to a group of citizens hunting for marijuana operations or other illegal activity, "I'm not going to endorse that."
That should be left to traditional law enforcement, he says.
Yet, he acknowledges there is nothing illegal about what the rangers are doing, unless they misrepresent themselves as law enforcement, Clements says.
"They're on a fine line," he says. "The question is, what perception do they leave with people? And are they creating a situation that would endanger themselves or anyone else?"
Ehrhardt has worked as a volunteer for different law-enforcement agencies, including the state police, and teaches classes on handgun safety, first-responder training and emergency medical assistance.
He says the rangers simply want to make a difference, and most of their work is aimed at being good Samaritans, helping stranded motorists or heart-attack victims.
"We need to get the word out that we're not law enforcement," he says, "that we'll be there when your car breaks down or you get hurt. I want (people) to have somebody to call. Most people shy away from law enforcement, and I really don't want that reputation because we want to help people."
Ranger Bryon Barnes, 38, who grew up on a farm, agrees: "We're not just out here to find wrongdoing. "We're out here to help people, which is something the police used to do — stop and help."
Ehrhardt admits to having a sour attitude toward traditional law enforcement.
"I've worked for a couple of different law-enforcement outfits, and they don't like each other," he says, standing in his back yard, next to the shooting range he was using to train the rangers until the county said the area was not zoned for that.
"Police agencies have a habit of bad-mouthing each other."
Junction City Police Chief Ken Hancock wants to have a meeting with the rangers. Although they are not operating within the city limits, he is curious and concerned about their intentions.
"I personally am always concerned when I hear about people picking up guns and going out to enforce the law," he says.
"I appreciate their concern, but I think these sort of things have to be dealt with professionally and carefully. The potential for tragedy is there."
I hate nettles!
