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Wednesday, September 10, 2008
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 Johnny's Got a Gun
A man goes up to a large downtown building that houses the local tv station. He walks in and insists on telling his story to the reporters, in front of the cameras. He's middle-aged heavy balding with long wispy hair tied back in a raggedy pony tail. His clothes and old overcoat are dirty and smelly.
The people at the reception desk tell him to go away. But he insists, becoming agitated and angry. What he has to say is so very important, so important his life depends on it, on him telling his story. But he can't make them understand, can't make himself understood. And they demand that he leave, and threaten to call the police.
He walks across the street, distraught livid baffled as to what to do next. This was the one thing he had to do, only this, and now he can't. He walks into the little restaurant, across from the big building. Wants to explain to them what needs to be done. What he has to do. The girl at the counter doesn't know what to make of him, a homeless bum, babbling nonsense. The manager comes over, tells him he has to move on, make way for customers who want to place their orders. Its lunchtime, busy time, he has to move on.
But he can't do that, it's too much to ask, and there's no one who'll listen to him. He
sees the people in line ordering their food, walking past with their trays, like a blur, a meaningless blur. They don't understand. The man reaches for his gun, a shiny .45 automatic, and fires a couple of shots in the air, into the ceiling of the little restaurant. Then grabs a young girl from the line and pulls her up tight against him.
The call comes in on the radio "10-33, shot's fired at the 1300 block of Westmoreland Avenue." Hit the siren and the gas and I'm on it. One thing you always listen for as a cop is "shots fired." And if it's a 10-33 officer needs assistance, you get there no matter what, fast as you can. All other traffic just get the hell out of the way 'cause the minutes, the seconds, can be the difference between life and death. I get there quick but already there're a couple of squad cars with blue lights flashing.
"Whatta you got?" I ask the officer. Tells me a guy walked into the little fast food place and started shooting. Grabbed a little girl and took her hostage. The kitchen staff made it out the back way, told him what happened. The rest of the folks are still in there, maybe a couple a dozen or so; customers who were there when the guy came in.
No way in or out, except through a glass door on either side of the building. The guy with the gun's crouching beside the soda machine, got a clear view of both doors, the one just to his right, and the other straight in front of him. The best way in would be through the backdoor of the kitchen. "Okay" I tell the officer "turn these lights off...and block off the streets. No cars get in here, or anywhere near, okay?"
"What're you gonna do?" "Go talk to him" I tell him. I start toward the building. "Wait" he says "hold on. This guy...apparently he was just across the street. Over at the tv station there." He points to the big building with the KXRC letters out front. "They came over here when they heard the shots. The guy was trying to get in there first. Telling 'em he had to...warn 'em about something. Like...he's crazy, I guess."
"Okay" I tell him "thanks. Glance around the parking lot, just a few cars around. "Say, get everybody away from here, okay? Out of sight. I don't want him to see what we're doing out here. And get those tv people outta here too." "Sure" he says "but..." "Just do it" I tell him.
I make my way over to the main entrance, the door that's straight in front of the guy. Come up from the side and tap on the bottom pane of the glass. He fires a couple of shots through the door, shattering the glass all over the place. Crazy motherfucker. "Hey!" I yell at him "I'm here to talk." "Get away!" he yells back "I'll kill everybody in here." "I'm the negotiator" I tell him "I'm here to listen to you." "No you're not! You're a cop" he yells back. "Of course I'm a cop" I tell him "but I'm the negotiator, and I wanna know what you want."
He waits a while, thinking it over, finally says "okay...but throw out you gun first." What an asshole, I'm gonna need that. Jesus. I take my little palm-sized Glock and put it in my inside coat pocket, then draw out my .38 and stand up so he can see me toss it aside. Wonder if I should've done it the other way around, but you don't have a lot of time to think about it.
Slowly open the door and peek through the crack. Then walk in with my hands up. He's got a little kid pressed tight against his stomach, and is checking the kitchen area and the door behind him as I walk in. "That's far enough" he says, and continues mouthing words after he says that, but without any sound, or none that I can hear. He checks the kitchen again and the other door, glances around the dining area, then slowly slides down 'til he and the girl are seated on the floor.
I do the same, so we're both on eye level, with my back against the serving counter about ten feet away from him. "What do you want" he asks me, mouthing more silent words. "I'm Ed" I tell him "what's your name?" His lips silently repeat my words when I speak. Like he's following what I say by repeating it back to himself.
"Jonny...Ace..." he says "Johnny Bravo...Johnny gonna blow your head clean off." He points the gun at me, and continues to mouth silent words. Figure he's psychotic, actively hallucinating, freely-associating words and thoughts together in a mixed up jumble. This isn't good. Probably paranoid as hell, barely knows what he's doing.
"You off your meds?" I ask him. "You a doctor?" he asks, like he's hurling an insult "I don't like doctors." "No, I'm not a doctor. Just thought...you might need your meds, is all." "They don't do any good" he says "I gotta warn people...warm them up ...gonna get pretty hot in here. You feeling the heat? You are the heat, aren't you?"
"Whatta you got warn people" I ask. "Look" he says, looking up and around "don't you see the words, like birds..." He looks up and points the gun, makes a shooting sound with his lips, like "pwew...pwew" like he's shooting at the floating words. I look at the girl, squeezed up against him with his left arm wrapped around her.
She looks like she's about ten or so, very pretty with dark hair and freckles; her short hair in a pony tail with a ribbon. But she doesn't look frightened, just kind of numb and cringing a little, but trying not to, every time he say "pwew...pwew." "She has to go" I tell him, nodding at the girl "you have to let her go."
"She's my guardian angel" he says "my protector...my rejecter." "Protector from what?" I ask. "From you" he says, pointing the gun at me "from all of you. The evil ones. The evil that's inside of us." "What evil?" "It's everywhere" he says "in everyone, and... its coming for all of us. I tried to tell them...tried to warn them...but nobody listens. Nobody can hear...in here." He taps the gun against the side of his head.
"You...wanted to tell them" I say "the tv people..." "I gotta warn...everybody...all the bodies...they're gonna be bodies...lots of them, all over. If we don't...protect ourselves." "You wanna go on tv" I ask "tell everybody. You want me to get to the camera crew in here?" "I gotta get out" he says "get out, get out, get out."
"You don't think" I ask him "a shot of haldol...and some coffee, would fix things up?" "I can't think...with haldol" he says "can't write...can't hear...what they're saying." "Okay" I tell him "I'll get the tv crew...what else?" "What else? What elves? Santa has elves...on his shelves...where he makes the toys...for the girls and boys."
He looks at me, like he's happy to have someone to listen; and at the same time, sick to death about what it is he has to say. "Do you want anything else" I ask him. "Anything else? I want the president...to come here...in his helicopter. And land...out there. And take us all away...and we'll be safe then." "Okay. I'm gonna make the call...on my cell phone." "You know the president?" he adds, like I'm lying to him.
"I'm gonna call the tv crew" I say. I reach into my coat pocket. "Hold up!" he says, pointing the gun at my head "don't try anything." "Just gonna get my phone" I tell him. Take the phone out and hold it up for him to see. Flip it open, then look at him. "She has to go...first." "She stays with me" he says.
I set the phone down on the floor, and look over at him. "You get what you want ...if I get what I want." "I'll kill her" he says "then you, then everybody in here. I got a bomb." He taps the gun against his coat, indicating it's strapped around his waist. The girl looks at me, squints her eyes, scrunches up her nose, and shakes her head ever so slightly. Like she doesn't believe him.
I don't either. He's too far gone, too shaky to have wired anything up. Even if he'd tried to do it, would've blown himself up at home just trying to put it together. But I'll go along with him, see where it leads. "Then that's how it'll end" I tell him "right here, right now; and nobody will ever hear your story." "You're trying to trick me" he says, his voice agitated again "if I let her go, you'll kill me...they'll kill me. They'll shoot me." He nods his head to indicate the officers outside.
"I won't let them" I tell him "if you do this...for me, I'll make sure you're safe." "I...I can't. It's too dangerous...they'll get me. They'll kill me, you know they will. You can't stop them." "Then we'll all die" I tell him "everybody here. And we'll go to heaven. It'll be over with. But where will you go?"
He looks at me, looks at my eyes. Sees no expression, no fear, just a blank. "They won't...take me. They never take me, just take me away, lock me away. Like I'm not good enough...not good enough, for them" "You can be" I tell him "you can be on their side. Do something good with your life. This one thing...this one good thing. And then... they'll protect you."
"How...do you know?" he asks, panicky "why should I trust you. In God we trust, but He doesn't trust us. He...doesn't believe in us." "She wants you to let her go" I tell him "it's what we all want." "Is that what you want, little angel?" he asks the girl looking down at her. She nods her head. He looks into her eyes, sees that's she's not afraid. And it changes him."Okay then" he says "go; fly away little guardian angel. But...don't forget me. Please don't forget me."
He watches as the girl gets up and walks to the door behind him. She turns back and looks at me, and I nod at her. Then she's gone, out the door. "Johnny" I say, trying to get his attention back on me "that was good, a good thing to do. Thank you. I won't forget it." "Now whatta I do?" he asks, worried, lost, and alone now.
"We go out there" I say "you and me. Go out there and talk." "They'll kill me" he says "kill both of us." "No. Just stick close to me. Nobody's gonna do anything, if you're up tight against me." I turn to leave, start out the door, and he runs up behind me, with his arm around my chest and the gun under my chin. I push the door open and we go through, him shuffling his feet to keep up with me.
Take another step forward, a long stride. Get him off balance. Grab his gun and his hand with my left hand. Throw him across my body down to the pavement, slamming him there and then drop my knee into his chest. Officers swarm out from behind the building. Pin his arms and legs to the ground.
"It's okay" I tell them "Johnny's okay, he let the girl go. Be easy with him. It's alright now." They search him for weapons, empty his pockets, cuff his hands behind him. There's no bomb, nothing, just a notebook crammed full of his writing. An officer hands it to me. "It's all in there" says Johnny crying yelling scared like a little lost child. "Everything...I wrote it all down. All of it. Read it, please, please read it." "Okay" I tell him "I'll read it, and I'll let them know. I'll let everybody know. I promise."
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2:26 AM
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