Arizona Republic from Phoenix, Arizona • Page 3

STREET EDITION mLLEKSTAI The Arizona Republic SUNDAY, MAY 29, 1988 Suspect in killing of police officer remains at large Big day for tiny school First graduates for Queen Creek i i By Karen McCowan and Ruthanne Gilbert The Arizona Republic A second suspect in the fatal shooting of a Phoenix police officer was still at large Saturday, and authorities warned that the man is armed and "extremely dangerous." They identified one suspect in Friday afternoon's slaying of Officer Kenneth L. Collings as Gilbert Rodriguez, 24, who also uses the name Efrain Conde. Rodriguez, who was caught Friday after a shootout at a west Phoenix apartment complex, was listed in serious condition Saturday at St. Joseph's Hospital and Medical Center. Paramedics who brought him to the hospital Friday said he had been shot in the neck and side.

Collings-, 32, of Glendalc, an eight-year member of the force, was shot in the head about 3:30 p.m. Friday and died less than three hours later at St. Joseph's. He was working off duty as a security guard at a Valley National Bank branch at 21st Avenue and West McDowell Road when he was shot. Collings was as a patrol officer working out of the Cactus Park Station, 12220 N.

39th Ave. Sgt. Andy a spokesman for the Phoenix Police Department, said that the FDI identified Rodriguez through his fingerprints but that authorities knew little more about him. The suspect who is still at large is described as Hispanic, in his mid-20s, between 5 feet 5 inches and 5 feet 6 inches tall, with an average build and dark hair. Anderson asked anyone with information on either suspect to call the detectives' bureau at 262-614J or Silent Witness at 261-8600.

The suspect at large is believed to be heavily armed and very dangerous, the sergeant said. Police said the incident began Friday when two men entered the bank, herded the customers together and took about $10,000 from employ- See SUSPECT, page BIO fell ffOPl I i a Hughes likely target of overcharge probe Most of Queen Creek High School's Class of 1988 pack Into a pickup. Their diplomas form a small stack but represent a major milestone for the rural community of Queen Creek, which until 1986 bused its children off to larger, neighboring school districts for their high school years. By Karen McCowan The Arizona Republic While Pomp and Circumstance will be played ad nauseam at many large high school graduations around the Valley this week, the Queen Creek High School Band will be lucky to get through the classic march once on Wednesday. It won't take long for the procession of 22 seniors, the first graduating dass at the Valley's smallest public high school.

Their diplomas form a small stack but represent a major milestone for the rural community of. Queen Creek, which until 1986 bused its children off to larger, neighboring school districts for their high school years. "Just five years ago, we were taking a petition around so our kids could start going to high school here," said Candy Darst, a home-maker whose twin daughters, Jamie and Tisa, are among the school's first graduates. "I'd never done anything like that before. I wasn't sure how you got something like that done, so this graduation is really emotional for me.

Not just because my kids are graduating, but because kids for generations down can graduate from this school, too." Darst said she and other parents thought Queen Creek kids would become more involved in extracurricular activities and less likely to drop out if they attended a smaller high school in their own community. Tm just sold on a small school," she said. "My girls got to be valentine queens and homecoming queens and to play all kinds of sports. All the kids have a bigger chance of being somebody in a smaller school than in a bigger school." A computer-printed banner that says, "Queen Creek High School Where Everybody is Somebody," hangs in the office of the 12-class-rbom high school, built four years ago after the petition drive led to a successful bond election. Students who will graduate Wednesday night say the school livqs up to its slogan.

"In a small school like this, you know everybody, and everybody knows you," said Joe Kane, 18, who moved to Queen Creek as a Suzanne StarrThe Arizona Republic By Ralph Vartabedian Los Angeles Times A federal grand jury in Birmingham, is reported to be investigating criminal allegations that the Hughes Aircraft Co. fraudulently overcharged the Army on missile contracts. The grand jury reportedly is studying charges that Hughes improperly collected multimillion-dollar profits on a 1983 TOW missile contract, in which Hughes incurred lower-than-expected production costs. It could not be learned who originally made the allegations. The charges apparently involve whether Hughes disclosed to the Army that it was planning to transfer the production of missile-wiring systems from its missile-assembly complex in Tucson to a facility the firm built in Eufaula, that employs about 400 workers.

Hughes opened the facility in October 1982. If Hughes successfully lowered its production cost by transferring the work and had anticipated the cost reduction when it negotiated its 1983 contract, the company may have violated the Truth in Negotiation Act. The grand jury has subpoenaed Hughes Executive Vice President D. Kenneth Richardson to testify soon and has subpoenaed 13 other Hughes officials since February, a company spokesman confirmed Friday. The U.S.

attorney's office in Birmingham has interviewed Malcolm R. See HUGHES, page Bit Phoenix nm Kivtr They care at big schools, too, but they just don't have the time they have here." Queen Creek's students appear to be a microcosm of the student population at any larger high school. The the school's seniors say, is that friendships cut across social labels like "jock," "skater," "stoner" or "brain." "Here, everybody's one group you're accepted no matter what you are," said Keith Roberts, 19. A member of the class until a month ago, when his family moved to Wickenburg, Roberts was back visiting at Queen Creek recently. Dwane Turner, 17, agreed.

With thick glasses, good grades and the latest issue of Popular Science in his duffle bag, Turner might have been dismissed as a "brain" at a larger school. Here, he is also a "jock," playing forward on the basketball team and running the 800-meter and two-mile races in track. "It's easier to make the team at a small school," he said. "The bad thing is, there aren't as many classes to choose from. I wish there had been some higher-level science classes.

But you get a lot more one-on-one attention from the teachers." Socially, a small school also has its disadvantages, several of the seniors said. "I just couldn't see myself dating any of these girls, because I've See QUEEN, page B2 lOffllet Queen Creek 'Prescribed' fire burns out of boundaries Jot Willis SmithThe Arizona Republic sophomore after attending a junior high school in Mesa. "The teachers pay more attention to you, and the majority of them really care what happens to you. Phoenix Area in 13 Chiricahua detail -t Monument I Coronado National Forost 3 jJ 10 miles I Soft-spoken jurist to share limelight in court with outspoken ex-governor THE MECHAM TRIAL THE JURISTS By Gene Varn Southern Arizona Bureau TUCSON A fire intentionally set Wednesday to burn 80 acres in the Chiracuhua Wilderness Area had spread to cover about 350 acres by Saturday, prompting the U.S. Forest Service to call in more than 500 firefighters to contain the blaze.

Despite the large number of firefighters summoned to the southeastern Arizona mountains, the top Forest Service official in the Chirica-huas said Saturday that the "prescribed" fire was not out of control. Other Forest Service officials, however, said the fire was out of control. One of them said the fire was "a tragedy" because it was set intentionally to burn a few acres, a mile southeast of Rustler Park, a campground high in the Chiricahua Mountains. The fire is in steep terrain at an elevation of about 9,000 feet in the 111 f'il This is the first in a series of profiles on key figures in the trial of former Gov. Evan Mccham and his brother Willard on charges that they concealed a $350,000 campaign loan.

The prosecutors will be profiled Monday, and the defense attorneys Tuesday. By Brent Whiting The Arizona Republic Michael Ryan, a soft-spoken jurist with a baritone voice, is a reserved and private man who doesn't look for public attention. Yet, Ryan, a Maricopa County Superior Court judge, is about to be uneasiness. Declining to discuss his feelings about the Mccham trial, he said he always treats a criminal defendant with respect. Ryan has made it clear that he is a no-nonsense judge who is intent on keeping the Mecham trial on a tight timetable and wasting little time.

He also is a stickler for courtroom decorum. Last week, he scolded Michael Scott, the former governor's defense attorney, for being a few minutes late to a court session. The next day, Scott See SOFT-SPOKEN, pageB2 thrust into the limelight of one of the most highly publicized cases in Arizona history: the trial of former Gov. Evan Mecham and his brother Wrjlard. Ryan likely will feel uncomfortable with the press attention he inevitably will receive in presiding over the case, his friends say, but they believe the 42-year-old judge will overcome his Eric BakerThe Arizona Republic Centella Ridge area, which is within the Chiricahua Wildncr-ness Area, Forest Service officials said.

Bernard Bruner, head of Coronado National Forest's Douglas Ranger District, which includes the Chirica- See FIRE, page B7 Michael Ryan The judge is a stickler for courtroom decorum. Tragedy plays tricks on mind of slain policeman's nephew ary Howes nas oeen awake an night, crying part of the time, plotting vengeance, remembering. E.J. MONTINI Republic Columnist branch. While there, he made a drawing of Collings' movements just before the shooting, of the place where he was shot.

Then he went to the Syl-Mar, where police cornered one of the suspects in the shooting and critically wounded him. "There's some blood here," Howe says, pointing to a stain in the dirt beneath some shrubs. "And you can see where the FBI dusted the phone booth for fingerprints." The suspect apparently was trying to make a call when police caught up with him. There are black smudges from fingerprint technicians all over the phone. On the parking lot and the sidewalk nearby, investigators marked with yellow chalk the spots from where officers fired.

Howes goes from one to the next, looking toward the spot where the suspect fell. He imagines himself pulling the trigger. Howes is 22 years old. He works as a security guard at a local hospital. In some ways, he's modeled himself after his uncle.

There was a time when he thought it would be great to be a policeman on the remembers. "He used, to have license plates on his 'Vette that said '7 or 1 But he wasn't wild. He made you feel that he was really dedicated to his work. Really loved it. He was a great guy.

To me, he died a hero." Collings has four older sisters, according to Howes. He was the youngest child. He had been a Marine. "That's why I went into the military a few years ago," Howes says. "He told me it was a good place to start.

I trusted him." Howes smiles. "He was real close to my dad," he says. "He'd come over to our place, talk, watch a hockey game, have a few beers. And he was good-looking, you know. I'd be at my dad's house, and Kenny would sometimes show up with women who had these bodies that, well, you know." He pauses again.

"I can't believe I'm talking about him in the past," Howes says. "Do you remember the story of the guy who's kid was raped? And the police caught the guy and were taking him through an airport? And the kid's father was there pretending to be on the phone. When they passed BOOM! he blasted the guy. "I know it sounds morbid, but that's what I see in my head. I see myself finding this guy and just blasting him.

Do you think that's strange?" Perhaps it is what a person thinks about when he hasn't slept and when there are two images he can't get out of his head. The first is of his uncle, dead, lying on a table. The second is from a month ago. It is Howes' birthday. Collings is there but has just received a duty call and must leave.

Before he goes, Howes remembers his uncle saying, "OK, kid, you take care. I want to see you around for your next one." He remembers laughing and answering, "Sure, and I want to see you around for your next one, too." same force with Collings. Not anymore. Howes had gone on a float trip down the Salt River on Friday morning. When he got home, he was sunburned and drained.

He went to sleep. In the late afternoon, a friend of the family woke him and said that Collings had been shot. "He's not expected to live," Howes was told. He rushed to St. Joseph's Hospital and Medical Center, where a detective told him that his uncle was dead.

"There were six or seven officers there in the room where they had him laid on a table," Howes says. "They had a bandage across his forehead. There was a little blood right there in the middle, between his eyes, where, I guess, the bullet caught him. "He was just there. Just lying there.

You just don't believe it." He stares straight ahead, as if he can see his uncle there, lying on the table. "He used to like to gamble," Howes It is shortly before noon Saturday. His eyes are bloodshot and sunken. He stands near the entrance to the swimming pool at the Syl-Mar Apartments on Camelback Road, counting bullet holes in a wall surrounding the pool, near a pay telephone. "You can see where the cops marked the slugs," he says.

"I count 15. And the bastard lived, can you believe that? He lived after all those shots, and Kenny Kenny gets it with one." He shakes his head, rubs his eyes. "Can you believe that?" he asks. "It isn't right. It isn't right." Howes is talking about Phoenix Officer Kenneth Collings, who died Friday afternoon after being shot by robbers outside a Valley National Bank branch where he was moonlighting as a security guard.

He was Gary Howes' uncle. Howes already has been to the bank.