"Shot's fired, shot's fired, shot's fired!"

Easter Sunday 2000...I was assigned to day shift, 0530-1400 hours (2 pm). I was a little upset that I wasn't spending Easter Sunday with my little girl, Allison, whom was 4 years old at the time...but I was thankful I would get to see her that evening. I was expecting a typical Sunday day shift which meant not much more than taking a couple of reports from crimes, mostly thefts and vandalism's that happened the night before and maybe write a few traffic tickets and not much else. In other words, especially being a holiday, I was expecting a slow shift....Boy was ever wrong.

Things had been going pretty smooth when I heard an officer with not much experience dispatch to a stolen car with suspect information. I assigned myself as back up and went with him on the call. We met the "victim" whom I immediately recognized from numerous prior calls, some with her as victim some as the suspect. Regardless, she was the victim this day. She stated that her boyfriend Joshua Comp had stolen her car after they had been involved in a verbal domestic. I was very familiar with her 19 year old boyfriend, having arrested him for everything from simple traffic charges, to pursuit, to possession of heroin and cocaine. Most recently I had contact with him when he attempted suicide ( and almost succeeded).

After getting all of the complaint forms signed we responded to Joshua residence, where he resided with his parent's, to attempt to affect an arrest and recover the vehicle. The vehicle was in the drive way and the garage and was standing open, but no one was to be found. We allowed the victim to recover her car and we decided we would try to catch up with Joshua later in the day.

45 minutes later I thought I would take a pass by the house. Low and behold Joshua was in the front yard. I radioed for another car and quickly exited my patrol vehicle, as I did so Joshua ran behind and along side the house. At this point it's probably necessary to describe the house. the home was about a 50-60 year old two bedroom with an attached two car garage that faced south. The back yard was entirely fenced and had two large aggressive dogs within. The home had a basement only accessible from the outside on the east side of the home. That entrance was partially obscured by bushes.

With back up arriving, the reporting officer and a Sergeant, I began to search the grounds for the suspect. All though I had arrested Josh numerous times in the past he had never physically resisted me. I was known throughout the department for having the best officer safety skills of any of the officers who worked there....bottom line is I knew how to handle myself and took officer safety very seriously. That being said, you can't always operate in a 100% safe manner, if you could, cops wouldn't be needed.

Whom ever a call is assigned runs the show at a call, regardless of rank. The rookie officer's first mistake of the day was not assisting in the search for the suspect, instead he decided to strike up a conversation with the parents of the suspect, for several minutes. At this point I observed Josh and of course he ran from me, retreating into the darkened basement. I notified the R/O (rookie officer) that I had the suspect on the east side of the house and needed his assistance. Instead of responding as he should he decided to continue to banter with the parents. After two or three more attempts he said the "mother" of the suspect was "responding" to talk him out of the basement. I was irritated at this point but didn't say much. The Sgt, R/O, and me stood back about 30 feet from the basement entrance. The mother was able to talk him to the door. At that point I observed that Josh was in shorts and a t-shirt and didn't appear to have any weapons ( all though you could never be sure). Josh asked me if he was going to jail, I told him we had to talk about it and hear his side but that there was a good chance. I asked him to step out from the basement, he refused and started back within, and turned out the basement light.

The rookie asked what we should do, I of course was disgusted at how timid he was and said "we fucking arrest him"....I put on my black leather gloves ( something that nearly cost me my life) expecting to have to drag him out of the basement. The R/O was complaining that he was having trouble with his vision and didn't want to be the first in. During this very short time I briefly thought about a Sgt. with the St. Louis County Police department that had been recently shot and killed going down the stairs in a basement after an armed suspect, and had chosen to go to save to rookie with him, and subsequently died for this choice....but I knew this wasn't the case today, it was Easter Sunday, around noon in s small city. Down the stairs I started, the bright sun from behind me and the darkness inside were throwing me off. About the time I got to the bottom stair I sensed movement to my 1 o'clock about 15 feet away. I also heard a sound that I will never forget, the bolt closing on a .270 rifle, as he brought it up to his shoulder in a firing position. All this happened so fast, and it is hard to describe, but my adrenaline hit me like a brick wall and totally focused everything directly in front of me. As I was yelling "gun, gun!" and pulling my Glock from it's holster I saw a bright explosion, felt a concussion, and heard a tremendous blast as I fired my own pistol ( which I don't really remember hearing) as I retreated backwards. At first I thought I must have been hit but realized I was still alive so I couldn't have been. In the 2 seconds it took for this whole scenario to happen I remember thinking that I always expected to be shot or shot at but it would be from a handgun that my body armor could easily stop, not a rifle designed for large game, something that could blow a whole through my vest, me, out my back, out my vest and into the next officer behind me.

Everybody was in high adrenaline mode. The Sgt. was shoving the scumbags parents back to safety as I was yelling for the rookie to find hard cover. I called on the radio ( in a pitch like a 10 year old girl I was later told ) "302 shot's fired, shot's fired, shot's fired"...."we need help!" As I have said before in this blog I react very well under pressure and I did this day to. I immediately asked the parents if the house could be accessed from the basement, because I was afraid he could get inside and maneuver for a better shot. Fearing that I might have shot the bad guy or that more people would be hurt I called for an ambulance to stand by in the area. I also called for the SRT team to be activated, and to call the MSHP to send a negotiator. As back up arrived I started assigning cover positions. I have to admit that it was comforting to see cops from other departments showing up with M-16's and shotguns. Other officers responding I assigned them to start evacuating the surrounding homes. A trooper that showed up told me I was bleeding. I don't know when it happened, and I didn't feel it, but I had bitten my lip rather badly and had bled pretty good onto my cheek and neck, he took me aside and checked me quickly and I was happy to see that I was "OK".

Finally a negotiator talked the subject out ( with his gun for awhile), after a few minutes he put it down and surrendered.

I had missed the subject when I fired at him, but I had hit the stock of his gun and showered him with splinters.

In the basement he had a suicide note written out. In it he talked about how much he hated me and that I had ruined his life. He also said how much he wanted to kill me and that he knew where I lived ( listed my address and apartment number) and that I had a daughter and he would kill her too. After being shown this later I drug him out of his jail cell and grabbed him by the throat and told him I would kill him if I ever saw him around my home or daughter......

Highway patrol investigated the shooting. They asked me how many times I fired my weapon during the incident. I told the investigator that I thought I had only fired once. Come to find out I had actually fired 5 rounds. I was quickly realizing that adrenaline was an odd thing.

Within 48 hours of his arrest I moved....some may say I should have stood my ground. Well I wasn't really worried about me. I was worried about my daughter.

I took a couple days off and when I returned was met with slaps on the back and the like. I laughed and acted like it was all fun, but it wasn't. This incident bothered me so much I really didn't talk about it to anyone outside of work. Part of me was embarrassed over the whole thing. Going down those stairs into the home was the classic "fatal funnel" they teach you to avoid in police work. Secondly, I had missed my target. I never miss as the range and almost always am the top shooter in the department. I learned that day that moving targets with guns firing at you are much harder to hit.

Another big thing that day..... I was afraid and felt fear, and felt guilty because of it. In the years that have passed since then I have realized that all of my feelings relating to that shooting are naturally and I acted in a brave, professional, if almost typical manner. It also taught me to never take for granted that things will be peaceful....after all this literally happened noon Sunday on Easter in a town of 20,000 people.

I could probably do better writing this, but I am getting sleepy.

One last note.....the guy who tried to kill ended up getting probation and ran down an officer with a car a couple years later....and last I knew out of jail. i truly regret that I didn't hit him when I shot at him that day.