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Perpetrator
Gary French hated cigarettes ... The smell of the break room
turned his stomach. He could still see and smell the memory
of his father smoking at the dinner table. Holding his
breath and his nose, he poked his head in ... looking for
his partner. Officer Jay Skeen laughed at him while he
snuffed out his cigar. Being well aware of Frenchy’s
distaste of tobacco, he teasingly blew his last pull across
the table at him ...
“Hey smoke stack ... C’mon ... We got a bad-guy walkin’
around shootin’ up the Franklin Street Mall!”
Jay’s eyes went blank ... He saw himself and his wife
strolling down that very street ... Just last weekend. He
watched the trolley car whisk down the Cobblestone. He could
see the birds hopping across the sidewalk to grab the bread
his wife threw down for them as they luncheoned at the side
walk café ...
He couldn’t see someone walking down the mall ... shooting
...
“Ya jokin’ me?”
“Nope ... just came in ... He’s walkin’ down the street ...
shootin’ everything.”
Jay dropped the half-snuffed Hav-a-Tampa in the tuna can
ashtray and grabbed his bottle of water.
He poured some over the cigar and stared at his partner.
“Everything?” He asked.
Gary was nodding ... “Everything ... birds, storefronts,
light posts ...”
He turned his head and looked right at Jay. “People ... EV-ER-Y
thing!”
He wafted the strong smell of cigar back towards Jay as they
turned out the doors toward the parking lot.
“Lucky us, huh ...?” Frenchy quipped. “ ... We had to be
three blocks away.”
As they raced toward the heart of downtown Tampa, more
information about the situation was streaming across the
screen in their cruiser ... Jay read it aloud while he
toggled the siren switches ... He let them go as his mouth
dropped open on the last line he read.
“You just ain’t even gonna believe this ...”He announced,
his Texan accent revealing his growing disbelief ...
His eyes couldn’t leave the screen. “ ... There’s a report
that he’s carrying a small boy ...”
Frenchy’s chin fell ... He thought of his own two sons ...
trying to pry up one of the bricks in the cobblestone
street, the last time he had taken them downtown for lunch.
His eyes turned from the road to his partner ... “Now YER
jokin’ ME ... right? ... RIGHT?”
His beckoning voice quivered, as Frenchy’s own disbelief now
exposed itself.
Jay shook his head and hoped that more info would come
across the screen.
Gary rolled his eyes as he turned his head back to the road
...
“Oh my God ... What next ...?” He sighed.
Jay’s finger was tapping the refresh key ... he still
couldn’t take his eyes from the screen.
“God I hope that’s bad info”
“You can say that again Skeeny Baby ...” Frenchy nodded. ”
... Any word on the perp?”
“Not yet”
“No ID ... No nothin’?” Frenchy begged.
“Not yet.”
“What about the hostage?”
“Nuh uh ... nothin’at all.” Jay’s head shook, but his eyes
stayed glued to the screen.
His finger never stopped tapping the refresh key as he
toggled the siren at a car that wouldn’t yield.
He scowled though the windshield at the car ...“Hey ... Get
his tag will ya?”
Jay made an evil face at the driver as they went around him.
” ... We’ll see you later ...YOU JERK!”
Frenchy tried to grin as he looked, both ways, at the
intersection of Tyler Avenue and Jefferson Street ...
He could see his partner writing that guy a stack of tickets
... But he just couldn’t bring his lips to do it ... He
could not stop thinking about the poor boy ... “How did this
come to happen?”
The tires sang on the hot pavement as the cruiser tore
around the corner and headed for Franklin Street ...
Their siren echoed up and down the Cobblestone Street as the
cruiser turned onto the mall and stopped ...
The two seasoned officers looked in amazement at the scene
before them ... Gary looked at his watch ...
“Twelve-forty.” He muttered. He HAD to look again ... Just
to make sure it was indeed 12:40 ...
It was lunchtime ... on Tuesday ... in downtown Tampa ...
This Street should be packed ...
But it wasn’t today ...
All they could see were bodies ...
Scattered ...
Everywhere ...
Gary’s foot eased off the brake pedal and let the cruiser
idle forward ...
Both men were scouring the street for the shooter.
“My God ... there must be twenty dead ... maybe THIRTY!”
Jay was nodding ...” Neither could believe their eyes. Jay
held the mic to his lips ...
“Ah, one-thirty-two, we’ve got at least two-dozen
seventy-ones in the street, dispatch ... maybe more ...
It looks like a war zone down here!”
Both the windshield and the driver’s window shattered
simultaneously as the first shot echoed down the empty mall
... The sound of crashing glass drowned out the partners
frightened cursing.
Gary hit the brake and slammed the shifter into reverse ...
“ One-thirty-two ... SHOTS FIRED!”
The tires were smoking as the car rocketed backwards up the
street. “Repeat ... We’re being fired upon!”
“Copy, one-thirty-two ... cover is code three”
Jay had drawn his weapon and was trying to peer out his open
window to see where the shooter was ...
His blood ran cold when he saw them ... There ... in a
doorway ... not one block down ...
Was the man ... Holding a boy in his left arm ... and
waiving a pistol with the other.
The boy’s arms were wrapped around the shooter’s neck while
his legs straddled him front and back.
His pale, thin face was blank and expressionless ... while
the shooters seemed wild eyed and frightened.
“No way to get a shot off at the guy ... He’s holdin’ that
kid like a shield.” Jay shouted.
“Well ... he quit shootin’ at us ... maybe he just wants us
to keep our distance.” Frenchy reasoned.
He put the car in park at Tyler Ave. and switched the siren
off.
How he hated that sound ... he found it to be the only curse
of this job that he loved so much.
He couldn’t wait to make detective and thereby use it a lot
less ... he hoped.
Frenchy’s eyes grew wide as he stared at the shooter. “Oh my
God Skeen ... That’s ol’ Michael the perv!”
Jay replayed their last run in with Michael in his mind as
he squinted to confirm Gary’s proclamation.
They had listened to him trying to approach a small boy in
the bathroom at a local park. His intentions were both clear
and repulsive. Jay’s teeth clenched together as he
remembered the perv trying to run away as they identified
themselves. Had they not been there trying to catch guys
like Michael, ”Lord only knows what would have happened to
the poor boy.” He thought.
As he remembered tackling Michael and placing him in cuffs,
it occurred to him that Michael’s rap sheet showed
absolutely no penchant for violence ... aside from running
away, he gave no resistance ...
“How on earth did he come to this?” He wondered.
Frenchy pushed open his door and drew his weapon in one
motion ...
In one more motion, he was on one knee with his gun leveled
at the shooter.
He could feel the racing pulse in his arm as he rested it in
the crook between the door and the car ...
The end of his barrel pinged against the chrome spotlight.
He looked through the car at Jay and told him to radio for
the swat team ...
And a sharpshooter ...
Jay radioed the scenario to dispatch and then clicked the
knob over to P.A.
“Michael, set your weapon down and let the boy go!” He
commanded.
The shooter lowered his revolver and looked at the boy ...
the boy looked at him and then the cruiser. Turning his head
back to them, Michael raised the pistol in slow motion ...
He fired two rounds through the radiator and the steam
blocked Frenchy’s view for a moment.
In between clouds of white steam, he saw the shooter tossing
his gun across the cobblestone ...
His lungs exhaled in relief ...”That’s good punk, now put
that poor boy down ...” He thought.
As the last of the steam billowed straight up, the partners
couldn’t believe their eyes ...
Michael had reached down to his waist and drew yet another
pistol ... this one was an automatic ...
“Holy smokes Frenchy ... You seein’ what I’m seein’?”
“Oh yeah ... I definitely concur, number one” It was his
best Jean-Luc Picard impression.
Both were now staring at the array of handguns tucked into
the waist of the shooter’s pants.
“I count three ... maybe four ... Besides the one he’s
holdin’ ... I can’t tell past the kid’s legs!”
“Ditto!” ... Frenchy’s voice sounded monotone ... He felt
horrible for the helpless little boy.
Jay opened the Mic again ... “If you just stop shooting ...
maybe ... we can talk this out!”
The reply was four more shots through the flashing blue and
red lights on top of the car ...
Pieces of the colored plastic went flying in every direction
...
“O.K... . Well ... I guess THAT’S our answer!” Gary shouted.
He looked through the car at Jay and then scanned the broken
glass that now covered the front seat.
They could hear sirens coming from every direction ... their
wails echoed around them like a hurricane.
“Tell dispatch to keep them one block back for now ... this
jerk’s libel to freak if he sees more units!”
Jay nodded and clicked back over to comm on the radio.
“One-thirty-two ... this guy is highly unstable ... and he
definitely has a hostage!”
They looked at each other as he spoke ... “A young male,
approximately six to eight years old ...”
Jay took a deep breath as he tried to remember Michael’s
last name ... but in the excitement, he couldn’t.
“Perpetrator is a known Pedophile ... First name Michael ...
approximately six foot tall, brown hair and eyes, late
twenties to early thirties ...” He paused and then un-keyed
the Mic.
He took another deep breath of the thick summer air. “Please
advise covers to remain TWO blocks back.”
They winked at each other as Jay finished ...
Two more shots ripped through Jay’s door ... He dove across
the glass-covered seat.
“Holy smokes, Dirty Harry!” He shouted, his voice showing
fear for the first time today ...
“This friggin’ guy’s on a mission!” Neither of them heard
the dispatcher’s acknowledgment ...
Gary couldn’t take his eyes off of the boy ... He kept
looking at them ... and then his captor.
He felt the frustration in his chest and wished he could
help him ... he’d never felt so powerless before ...
The boy’s gaze was completely blank ... He looked utterly
terrified.
Jay slid over the glass and back into position behind the
door. Some of the glass showered over onto the aluminum door
jam and down to the cobblestone at his feet. It crunched and
crackled under his leather shoes. He readjusted his Kevlar
vest and focused in on the unlikely pair that was now
standing in the middle of the street. Gary wiped the sweat
from his forehead and glanced back over at Jay.
“Ya’ll right?”
“I’ll let ya know when this guys DONE!” He snapped. “How ya
think we should handle this?”
Frenchy turned his eyes back to the boy ... “I guess we wait
for the sharp shooter ...” He shrugged.
“ ... We can’t risk hitting the boy ... Besides, it would
seem he only fires if we try to talk to him ...
Let’s just try and wait him out and see what happens ...”
Jay was nodding in agreement before Gary finished his
sentence.
“Alright ... but what if he starts shooting again?”
He turned to look at Gary ... “Or what if he shoots the
hostage?”
Gary never looked away from the boy ... His voice was calm
and professional ...
“Then we take him down.”
The shooter turned and began aimlessly shooting out the
storefront to his right.
The glass shattered and flooded the sidewalk with a
resounding crash ...
They could hear several women frantically screaming inside
...
He stopped shooting for a moment, and then turned his wrath
on the traffic signal on the corner.
They could hear errant rounds whizzing over their heads.
Gary wiped the sweat from his palms ...
First one hand and then the other ... on his blue uniform
pants.
He could see his wife ironing them as he dressed for duty
this morning.
He hoped he would see her this evening ...
And, that she hadn’t come down here this afternoon to window
shop ...
He never took his aim off of Michael.
Jay’s eyes were caught by something moving in the foreground
...
As were the shooters ...
It was one of his victims ... he was trying to crawl away.
The trail of blood that he was leaving behind him told the
partners he didn’t have long ...
“Stay still guy ... Please ... c’mon!” Jay pleaded. But the
poor soul kept trying to crawl away.
When they looked back up to the shooter, he was in motion
... He was staring at the poor crawler ...
And stomping towards him ... When he was just a foot away,
the shooter leveled the gun at his head ... Frenchy closed
his eyes ...“Oh, no ... don’t ...”
The first shot drove the victim’s head to the cobblestone
...
The next four made his body twitch in small spasms. Jay
closed his eyes and shook his head ...
“How did this guy get so far OUT there!”? He was interrupted
by two more loud pops.
“ ... I’ve never heard any reports of him being violent ...”
He shuddered at the last two rounds ... “Sounds like a nine
...” He reported. Frenchy agreed. “Yup, looks like a Glock
Nineteen.”
Jay rolled his eyes and shook his head in frustration ...
“Great ... How many fired so far?”
“Eight or nine, I’m pretty sure.”
They watched in horror as the shooter stepped over to an
elderly woman who was lying just two yards from the crawler
... She rolled over and screamed in hysteria ...
“NOOO ... PLEASE DON’T SHOOT ME!” She pleaded.
She had been playing dead ... Michael raised his pistol and
fired six rounds into her head ...
She wasn’t moving after the first two. The partners looked
on in horror as he threw the empty gun at her bloody face
and drew another weapon ... a blue steel revolver.
He spun around in the street and randomly emptied it into
the bodies that were strewn around him ...
As if he were trying to make sure they were all dead.
The partners shook their heads in disgust ...
The boy’s lower lip stuck out ... as though he were going to
cry.
After the sixth round, Michael slammed the pistol onto the
crawler’s head with a dull thud.
Jay winced at the splashing blood. Fifteen years on the
streets hadn’t hardened him enough for the scene that was
unfolding before him. The shooter reached to the back of his
waist and drew another automatic.
Gary beaded the shooter’s head into his sights ...
His chest felt warm and tight ... like it was turning to
stone ... He had a shot ...
But ... what if the shooter turned or changed direction?
He just couldn’t risk hitting the poor little boy ...
Besides ... At the moment, it would seem, only Skeen and he
were in immediate danger ...
Unless that is ... someone else was playing dead.
His sweaty finger eased off of the trigger ...
“Where’s the damn sharpshooter?” He snapped. Jay shook his
head and reached for the microphone.
He watched the shooter walk back to the intersection of
Franklin and Cass Street as he pleaded with the dispatcher
for the whereabouts of the sharpshooter.
“One-thirty-two ... two-fifty-six is en route.” Came the
dispatchers reply ...
Frenchys voice was beginning to show his tension ... “Tell
‘em ta hurry will ya?”
Jay relayed the last few moments of their ordeal to dispatch
... in vulgar, graphic detail ... at this moment, he could
care less about radio etiquette ... He needed dispatch to
understand the urgency of their requests.
He pleaded for them to rush the Sharpshooter to the scene.
“One-thirty-two ... two-fifty-six is en route.” The
dispatcher repeated.
Both men rolled their eyes in frustration as Jay tossed the
Mic, in disgust, onto the glass-covered front seat.
“Well at least he used the cannon on the seventy-ones”
“I know ... that sounded like a three-fifty-seven ...” Jay
reckoned.
“At least!” Frenchy agreed.
He stuck out his lower lip and blew a sigh across his face
... it was a very balmy Florida afternoon.
The shooter looked up and around at the skyscrapers behind
him.
He and the boy looked at each other and then he turned and
began firing at the buildings ...
To Gary, he looked like a tiny helpless being, trying to
thwart huge, looming assailants.
They all watched the glass fall ... in silence ... to the
sidewalks in the distance.
Jay envisioned the picture of David and Goliath in his son’s
bible.
“I can’t see the weapon, but I think that’s eight shots!”
Frenchy yelled over the ringing booms of the gun.
“Eight it is ...” Jay yelled back. “ ... It sounds like a
three-eighty ... Maybe another nine!”
Gary nodded. The shooter fired two more rounds and then
threw the gun, over-arm, at the closest tower ...
He looked like David; slinging the stone at Goliath ... It
fell hopelessly short ...
Before he turned around, he had already drawn another weapon
... A large chrome automatic ...
This one had a long barrel ... And a laser sight. Both
partners took a deep gulp of humid summer air ...
“Oh, greeeat ... “ Frenchy lamented. “ ... I sure hope
that’s a twenty-two target pistol!”
Jay’s eyes were wide with anticipation ... “Me too buddy!”
Their hopes were quickly dashed as the captor opened fire on
the trolley car that had crashed into a park bench and came
to rest. He was shooting at the head of the already dead
driver. Michael looked at the boy and then began shooting
out the windows of the trolley. Bodies that were slumped
against the windows were falling away into the isle of the
bus. The partners could feel the concussion of the
high-powered weapon ...
“Definitely a forty-four auto-mag!” Frenchy shouted over the
din of the hand cannon.
“Eight shots fired of a possible ... Make that likely ...
twelve ... “ Jay concurred ...
“Let’s hope he doesn’t turn that laser on us!”
The shooter stopped firing and turned his glare towards the
cruiser ... Frenchy swore he could see fear in his eyes as
he raised his now shaking hand in their direction ...
Without speaking, the partners dove, in unison, toward the
back of the cruiser as they listened to the next four shots
tear into it ... The impact of the huge rounds jolted the
car like bb’s hitting an aluminum can.
“Now ... That one’s empty ... ya O.K.?” Jay was panting with
a little panic.
His partner was looking towards the sky ... “Fine ... THAT
was TOO close ...”
Gary laid out on the cobblestone and peered under the car
for the position of the shooter. He was walking away slowly
in the center of the street. He snapped up and leveled his
weapon at the back of his head ...
“Don’t try it my brother ... think of the kid.” Jay begged,
but it was too late ...
Frenchy was already telling himself not to do it. He let out
a frustrated sigh and lowered his weapon.
The shooter turned around and lobbed the now empty,
hand-cannon at the cruiser ... both men ducked.
It skipped off the hood and crashed into the already broken
windshield.
They peered around the car and saw the shooter draw what
seemed to be his last weapon from his waist.
“I think he’s almost out of firepower buddy ... Maybe we can
reason with him now ...”
Again, without talking, they crept back up to their
positions behind the doors of the cruiser.
“I can’t see any more weapons.” Jay reported.
“Me neither ... Wait’ll he turns around again.” Frenchy
snapped in an urgent whisper.
They watched the boy turn back and look at them, as the
shooter carried him back to the intersection.
When he reached the manhole cover in the center of it, he
stopped and looked at the boy ...
Frenchy's heart raced ... “Oh ... NO ... God ... PLEASE!” He
begged.
The shooter turned slowly around and glared at them again.
He looked more desperate than before ... like he knew these
moments were coming to an end ...
Jay grabbed the mic again ...
“C’mon Michael ... you can’t keep shooting forever ... Just
put the gun down and let the boy go ...
We’ll get you all the help we can ... NO ONE wants to hurt
you ... I promise, I swear.”
The shooter was sweating profusely as he looked up into the
searing Tampa sun. He wiped his brow and closed his eyes to
the light breeze that caressed his face. His long, curly
hair wafted behind him ...
He opened his eyes and looked at the boy.
The boy looked back at the officers ... Frenchy called out
to the child as loud as he could ...
“You alright son?”
The boy looked back into Frenchy’s eyes ...
Frenchy was trying to make the perv see the small prisoner
as a person and not an object ... He was trying to make the
boy talk ...
His expression was still completely blank ... “Poor thing,
he must be in shock from all this.” He thought.
Gary’s eyes filled with terror as he watched the shooter
slowly raise the gun up to the small boy’s chest ...
Neither partner could exhale ...
The boy turned to the shooter and grabbed the barrel,
pushing it away, back towards his chest ...
The shot sounded muffled as the shooter collapsed backward
to the ground in a heap.
Both men bolted around the cruiser doors, keeping their
weapons trained on the shooter ...
The boy was standing over him with his hands on his waist
... staring.
“You get the perp ... I got the boy!” Jay shouted as they
quickstepped over to them.
“You got it!” Frenchy snapped, as he stepped between the
shooter and the gun.
He kicked it away behind him and watched Jay snatch the boy
up and carry him towards the battered,
still smoking, police cruiser ... Letting out a long sigh of
relief, he looked down at Michael ...
Gary holstered his weapon and knelt down on one knee next to
him ... squinting into his glazed eyes ...
He patted him down as best he could for more weapons or
maybe some identification ...
Nothing ...
Nothing that was going to help make some sort of sense out
of any of this day ...
Then their eyes met again ...
The shooter was shaking ...
Gary spoke through gritted teeth ...
“What were you doin’ Michael ... And WHAT ... exactly ... IS
your problem?” He yelled.
The shooter raised his head off the Cobblestone Street ...
Grabbing up at Gary’s uniform, he was trying to take a deep,
gurgling breath ...
He looked straight up into Frenchy’s eyes ...
His gaze froze Frenchy solid ...
He was coughing up blood as he spoke ...
“Leave ... the boy ... ALONE!” was all he said, as his head
fell back on the bricks with a thud.
The sound of Michael’s death rattle was interrupted by the
sound of Jay’s service weapon ...
Gary pivoted on his toes in terror ...
Jay was coming back down the street ... straight towards him
...
Still holding the boy ...
He was taking potshots at a few of the bodies that were
strewn across the mall ...
Then ... he stopped ... a few feet away ... He now had the
same frightened stare that Michael had had only moments
before ...
Officer Jay Skeen spun around and raised the six-shot
revolver up to his partners forehead ...
Officer Gary French recounted the last five shots in his
mind ... all Jay’s ...
He could feel the warm barrel between his eyes ...
He looked up at the boy’s still stony face ...
The boy looked back down at him ...
And smiled.
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