Back then, Lundborg's father owned A.C.E. Alarms, a firm providing commercial and residential burglar systems, but was incapacitated in a car wreck. That left a young Lundborg and 20-something "Tony" Warner to run the business, and they drove to different sites to do burglar alarm installations and service calls.
"I worked with Tony as his helper. I kind of looked up to him. He was kind of a hippie. Had long hair, a Magnum, P.I. mustache," Lundborg told The Daily Beast. "He was a smart cocky kind of guy. I rode around with him all day every day—during the summers, at least for a couple years."
Lundborg said Warner disliked authority, loved smoking weed and claimed he'd just gotten out of the Navy. (It's unclear whether Lundborg was ever in the U.S. Armed Forces, but records show he was arrested for marijuana possession in 1978.)
They drove around listening to 103 KDF, previously Nashville's main rock station, and if Warner spotted a police officer, he'd break his silence to lecture the teenage Lundborg.
"I hate cops. They're all corrupt," Warner would say. "Never trust a cop."
Lundborg said he spoke to the FBI about Warner, as authorities try to piece together a motive for the Christmas Day explosion which injured eight people and destroyed multiple buildings. Warner, 63, died in the blast.
Early that morning, a recreational vehicle registered to Warner detonated after playing a recording bearing a grim warning: a bomb would go off in 15 minutes. The RV also played the 1964 hit "Downtown" by Petula Clark, a song that opens with the words, "When you're alone and life is making you lonely / You can always go downtown."
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