Isabel's Run (36 page)

The gunshot apparently roused Nancy as well. Her door must have been jammed, and she chose that moment to start kicking on it from inside in order to get free. Unfortunately, Martin heard her, too. He started to turn back to her, back to his original mission. Behind him, I could see the squad cars screeching to a halt. Now the officers inside saw what was happening.

“Hey,” I yelled again. I had my .45 drawn at the low ready. “Donnie Martin!” I yelled. “Drop your weapon! Do it now!”

He looked at Nancy; then, without turning his body, he looked sideways at me. He smiled. Guess he figured I couldn’t hit him, either. Then, still looking at me, he started to raise his gun at Nancy. She was less than twenty feet away from him—he could hardly miss.

Suddenly, without consciously thinking about it, I made a quick decision. The outside world seemed to recede. Everything switched to slow motion. My arms came up automatically and once again, all my training kicked in. As my arms came up, my right thumb pushed the safety lever off. I took one deep breath and then held it in as I completed the movement. My eyes instantly found the front sight as I raised it to Donnie Martin’s head. With all my concentration, I focused on the front sight. Steady. Squeeze.
BOOM!
The round fired. I didn’t need to look.

AS THE SOUND of the shot died away, things started happening fast. All twelve uniformed officers converged on the scene, guns drawn. I’d already holstered my weapon—I did it automatically after the threat was over. Besides, it’s generally a bad idea to have a gun in hand in the vicinity of police officers—especially if they’re already jumpy.

Some of the officers headed for Donnie Martin, his lifeless body sprawled faceup on the pavement. Others headed for the red Expedition.

“Get on the ground!” They had their weapons drawn and pointed at DeMichael Hollins, Crystal, and Kelli. “Out of the car!” they yelled at Hollins.

For his part, Hollins seemed like he was completely stunned at the turn of events. One second, he’s going on a shopping trip. The next second, a police car pulls up, his best friend pulls a gun and opens fire and is in turn killed right in front of his eyes, not six feet away. And now, the police were all over, guns pointed at
him,
ordering him out of the car.

“Show me your hands!” an officer standing right outside the driver’s door yelled. The officer’s weapon was pointed at Hollins’s left ear, probably forty-eight inches away.

Hollins apparently hadn’t gone to the same “they’ll never take me alive” school that Donnie Martin had attended. He did what he was told and raised his hands as the officer opened the door. Strong hands grabbed him and yanked him out of the truck onto the ground. I watched as he landed on the street beside the truck where Crystal and Kelli were already sprawled out. All were quickly handcuffed.

“Damn,” Toni said as she ran around the Jeep to my side. “Are you alright?”

I nodded. “Look. Fucker broke my mirror,” I said.

“He hit the windshield, too,” Toni said.

“No shit?” I only remembered hearing one shot. I looked at the windshield and sure enough, a clean bullet hole right in the middle.

“I think there might have actually been three shots.”

“Really?”

“You guys alright?”

I turned and saw Doc running up to us. He’d been in the surveillance van in the parking lot of the park.

“We’re good,” Toni said. “Did you see Kelli?” she asked.

“Yeah. She’s alright,” Doc said. “I was watching her.”

“Thank God,” Toni said.

“She was standing about ten feet away from Martin,” Doc said.

Toni nodded. “I think he was gonna kill Nancy,” she said.

“I think so, too,” I said. Hearing Nancy’s name caused me to snap back to reality. “Damn. I’ve got to go see if she’s alright.”

I ran toward her car. It was already surrounded by four police officers. I could see blood on the inside of the car as I approached. Both side windows on Nancy’s side—the driver’s side—had been completely blown out. The officers were so busy trying to get Nancy out that they didn’t notice me when I walked up and stood behind. One of the men tried to open Nancy’s door, but it was hopelessly jammed shut. “We’re going to have to get her out from the passenger side,” he said. He turned to Nancy. “How you doing, Lieutenant?” he asked. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Nancy said, still a little dazed. “I’m alright.” She looked down at the blood on her hands. “This blood isn’t mine. There’s nothing wrong with me. Check Ty. He’s been hit.”

I looked through the blown-out back window at Ty. He was bleeding from a head wound. The blood had gotten all over the airbag. When he heard Nancy, though, he turned to her.

“Glass,” he said, a little dazed himself. “I’m not hit. The bullet hit the mirror. I got cut by the glass.”

“Thank God,” she said.

* * * *

The officers helped Ty and Nancy out of the smashed-up car. When Nancy walked around the back of the vehicle, she noticed Kelli, still on the ground in handcuffs alongside DeMichael Hollins and Crystal Wallace.

“Let this one go!” Nancy said, pointing to Kelli. “She’s not involved.”

Kelli was quickly released and helped up by the officers. She immediately ran into Toni’s arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, crying as they embraced.

“I know,” Toni said. She started crying as well. “It’s okay, Kell. You’re alright now.”

“I just wanted to find Isabel so badly, and I thought you guys were going to stop looking.”

“Don’t worry,” Toni said. “We’ve got Isabel. She’s at the hospital. And you’re okay now. Everything’s going to be fine.” She held her sister tightly.

“Is Izzy okay?” Kelli asked.

“I don’t know,” Toni said honestly. “She’s not in good shape.”

“Can we go see her?”

Toni nodded. “Yeah.” The hug went on for several more seconds before Toni broke it off. “But right now,” Toni said, “before we do anything else, you better go sit your butt down in the Jeep and call Mom and tell her you’re okay. She’s worried to death about you. Here—use my phone.”

Kelli nodded, crying again. “Thanks,” she said. “I love you.”

“Me, too,” Toni said. “Watch out for the glass,” she called out.

Toni turned and looked at me and smiled as her sister walked away. “Thanks, Danny,” she said.

I leaned over and kissed her lightly. I shook my head as I smiled back. “You know you don’t have to thank me,” I said.

* * * *

Within a few minutes, it seemed like every police car in Seattle was on the scene. They parked in the street, they parked in the parking lot at the park by our surveillance van, some even parked in the park itself. Fortieth Street was closed top and bottom. One of the officers used about a hundred yards of yellow crime scene tape to cordon off the area. Next came the news helicopters followed by the news trucks. They parked in the parking lot at the park, extended their microwave masts, and immediately started “live, on the scene” coverage of the aftermath. “Police gun battle near Ravenna Park leaves one dead.”

Not long afterward, the ME team showed up and, after much photographing and measuring, removed the body. I, along with all of the other officers who were witnesses, was questioned preliminarily about what happened. Our versions were all recorded. My sidearm was confiscated—this pissed me off, but I knew it was going to happen. They promised I’d get it back at the end of the investigation.

More photographs were taken and more measurements were made. Sketches were made of the entire scene.

“One hundred thirteen feet,” I overhead one officer say to another, shaking his head as he rolled up his tape. “That’s incredible. No fuckin’ way I could ever make that shot.”

“Me neither,” the other man said.

When they were done giving initial statements, the paramedics wanted to load both Nancy and Ty into an ambulance for transport to the emergency room, but Nancy pulled rank and insisted that they ride in the back of a squad car instead. The car had just begun to pull away when it stopped suddenly. A back door opened, and Nancy got out. She walked over to me.

“I’m not sure I did it—things have been pretty confusing—but I wanted to be sure I said thank you. Thank you for literally saving our lives.” She reached out and shook my hand. “Tyrone feels the same way, but he’s still a little woozy to be walking around.”

I smiled. “Don’t even think about it,” I said. “I’m glad I was there.”

“So am I. You know, I already owe Dwayne for saving my life, and now I owe you, too. My debts are beginning to pile up.”

I laughed. “No worries. You don’t owe me anything. We’re good.”

“We are, aren’t we. We’re good.” She nodded and smiled. Then she became serious. “But I am still interested to hear from you how you managed to find your way inside the house on Brooklyn.” I must have had a deer-in-the-headlights look, which caused her to smile again. “Off the record.”

I nodded, relieved. “You’re on.”

She turned to leave, then turned back suddenly. “What hospital did they take Isabel to?” she asked.

“University Medical Center,” Toni answered.

Nancy nodded. “Good. Then that’ll work for us, too.”

* * * *

They wanted me down at police headquarters for more thorough questioning. And since it turns out that Donnie Martin
had
fired three shots at me and his third shot went through the Jeep’s radiator, I had to ride in the surveillance van with Doc, Toni, and Kelli back to the office. On the way, I put in a call to my lawyer, J. David O’Farrell. David’s an old family friend and one of the best criminal defense lawyers in Seattle. I pay him a small monthly retainer, which enables me to call him at moments like these when I need help. He said he’d meet me at the office and drive me downtown to talk to the DA.

The ride to the office took thirty minutes, giving me a chance to reflect. Several of the officers had come up to me and shook my hand. “Good job.” “Way to go.” “Nice shot.” I was okay with accepting this in the way of thanks for maybe saving Nancy’s and Tyrone’s lives. But when one of them commented, “The bastard got what he deserved,” this made me a little uncomfortable. I didn’t necessarily look at it that way.

For me, anyway, taking someone’s life is not something you can do and not be affected by—even if the guy
is
shooting at you. I know some of the guys in my unit in Iraq were different. They could kill someone, then go have a beer like nothing happened. I’m not one of those guys—never have been. At times, killing someone might be necessary (if he’s trying to kill you) and it might be the right thing to do (again, if he’s trying to kill you), but it’s not something to throw a party over. I don’t know if it’s the way I was raised or just the way I’m put together, but I believe God created all life—even scumbags like Donnie Martin. I’ve had to kill people in war and now, for the first time, as a civilian. I hope God doesn’t hold this against me. I think He’s alright with it—after all, He gives almost all living creatures the ability to defend themselves. Still, it weighed heavily on my mind. I was lost in thought and didn’t have much to say on the ride back to the office.

“THEN I YELLED at him to drop his weapon,” I said. I was at the Seattle Criminal Justice building, almost two hours into explaining to a group of three police captains plus Harold Ohlmer and Denise Free from the King County DA’s office exactly what had happened, starting with our initial efforts to locate Isabel and culminating with the shooting.

“And you had your gun out at the time?” Police Captain Scott Cristello asked.

“I did,” I answered. “I was at low ready.”

“Safety?”

“Safety was on,” I said.

He nodded.

“Then?” Harold asked.

“He didn’t do it—he didn’t drop his weapon. He did turn and look at me. But then, while he was still looking at me, he started to raise his pistol in the direction of Lieutenant Stewart and Detective Allison. He was already in the street—only twenty feet or so from their car. He’d already fired at them at least twice in addition to the shots he’d fired at me. I thought there was a very high probability that he was going to turn back to them, take aim, and open fire. I’m certain he would have hit them this time since their car was stopped and so close. So after he refused to drop his weapon and instead, started raising it to fire at the officers, I fired a single round at him.”

“Before you fired, were you able to see Lieutenant Stewart and Detective Allison?” Ohlmer asked.

I thought for a second, and then I nodded and gestured with my hand. “Yes. They were in front of me, a little off to my right.”

“Did you wonder why they weren’t returning fire?”

I tried to remember back. “I wondered if Lieutenant Stewart had been hit. I didn’t know if that’s why she drove into the tree. I saw them sitting in the vehicle, and I saw that they weren’t moving or firing back. But it happened fast. It was all over in a matter of just a few seconds.”

He nodded.

“And you believed Martin could hit them from his distance?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. Like I said, he was twenty—maybe twenty-five feet away. That’s a pretty easy shot. He’d just fired a shot at me from more than one hundred feet, and he blew out the mirror on my Jeep, two feet from where I was standing. That was a hard shot, and he damn near hit me, so I figured the man had good gun control. From twenty feet, he’d have most probably been deadly.”