We were in production here at the Press offices, working late once again to put the paper to bed, when the commotion ensued. I know a high-speed, gun-intensive car chase when I hear one, and the screecing tires drew me instantly to a window.When I saw the guy in the red t-top brandishing a gun, I was worried. When I saw those dudes doing doghnuts four feet from my car in a frenetic attempt to outmaneuver each other, I flew down the stairs to get a closer look. Meanwhile, according to witnesses, guns were blazing in the Anchorage Press parking lot. By the time I got down there, the vehicles were speeding away.
"Someone's been shot - call the police," said one of about 25 volleyball players in the park across the street. These guys may have parked us in once or twice, but they had always been friendly and willing to move their cars; and decent players to boot. After securing someone to call 911, I sought out the victim to determine the intensity of the scene I was about to face.
Luckily, it was easy. He'd been hit in the forearm, the bullet was still in there, and, while the wound was pulsing blood at a steady rate, he wasn't leaking dangerously fast. He maintained pressure while I got my first aid kit out of the car, applied some Latex gloves, and returned. He was in good spirits, not in much pain; and between the cravat and some elevation, the bleeding was manageable. All considered, he was doing great.
The cops rolled up about a minute after his wound had been dressed. A mere two minutes (approx) had passed since I'd heard the first tires squeal around 32nd and Arctic. Steadily, more rolled in. Witnesses shared their stories, police photographers worked over the scene, the area was searched for bullets, shells and anything else - and I told them what I had seen.
- You want to get revenge, the guys who ripped you off are well-armed - and you find yourself on a rip-roaring high-speed chase. It's not what anybody wanted, it's just how it shook down.
The screeching tires, the cars coming into a logjam feet away from my vehicle as I watched through the window - the passenger in the t-top standing up and branshing a weapon. "That guy's got a gun!" I had screamed before injudiciously bolting down the stairs to face a potentially deadly scene. I knew I could positively ID him, and told the officer.
No one got the plates, and a large crowd stood around waiting as professionals documented the scene and attempted to locate the vehicles. In the interim, the spouse of the victim I treated approached myself and an officer. Her husband had received death threats recently. Was this really a coincidence, or could the incidents be related? Evidently, the officer I was talking to had concluded his investigation. 'They were shooting at each other," he told her.
I urged her to press her inquiry, to follow through on the death threat. Sure, it might be nothing, but I certianly hadn't seen enough to conclude that - and I was a witness. She went off to Providence where, the officer suggested, an investigator could take the information.
They located the t-top in Dimond, and I agreed to ID whichever people/vehicles I could. Press Editor Riley Lynch, also a witness, agreed as well, and we rode with the officer.
We dropped Lynch off behind a building with instructions that he was not to observe anything. Buried in a book, he waited while I made a recorded statement and drove within view of the vehicle occupants. Even before I had the binoculars, I knew the second one from the left, the tall one w/ blue button-down shirt and beige slacks, was the passenger I saw brandishing the gun. And yes, that was the car.
Of course, I hedged a bit on the ID. Could I pick him out of a collection of head shots, out of context? I wasn't sure. He had the same clothes, the same height and skin color, and similar facial features to the guy I'd seen brandishing a gun. Then again, the cops were looking for people that fit witness descriptions, and perhaps they'd just picked up a similar-looking crowd. I pegged my certainty at 85-90 percent. If that blows their case, well, it's better than an innocent group of people being thrown in jail.
Lynch had a similar experience on the ID run while I leafed through his book. He fingered the same gentleman. Knowing that, I felt even more confident in my identification - I'm glad the officer was so conscientious about keeping us separated so that we could make independent evaluations.
On the way back, as the officer crossed the median so the suspects wouldn't see us, we assessed the risks of being witnesses to a violent crime. Our names could be available on the police report, our pictures could be on the news. These people could decide to retaliate, or to attempt to influence our testimony should we be subpoenad.
I mean, I know how it is when your drug deal has gone bad. You want to get revenge, the guys who ripped you off are well-armed - and you find yourself on a rip-roaring high-speed chase. It's not what anybody wanted, it's just how it shook down.
But we also have to be held accountable. We demand it of politicians, law enforcement and the business community, and we should demand no less of ourselves. Those guys playing volleyball in the park knew the risks they were taking, and this car chase was one of them.
- Often, all it takes is for an outsider to enter a situation.
Nonetheless, it was rude for the perpetrators to expose noncombatant bystanders to their conflict. They could have settled it through better security measures up front, contract killing, just writing off the loss, confining their activities to more discreet locations, or a number of other legal or illegal solutions. Regardless of how necessary it was for these people to have a gunfight in front of my office, regardless of any risk of retribution, I felt it was important to share what I knew because the gunfighters, like the rest of us, have a responsibility to stand behind their actions.
And I got to do a lot more than participate in asigning accountability. I got to provide what I saw as useful information to the victim's spouse about how to follow up - information she may not otherwise have received. And because I was an active bystander, I was on the scene with an appropriate response immediately. I may have entered a combat zone a bit prematurely (which will be avoided next time), and assumed additional risks through my intervention; but I got to help out.
Though the Me Generation's ideology remains powerful, I'd like to think that helping out still means something. We're not in this for ourselves - we're in it for each other, for God, for a peaceful community, for our children, for our neighbors.
Urban warfare is a complicated issue. Of course, I say it stems largely from drug prohibition, but indeed many factors are at work. Regardless, it's important to recognize that, at least in the short-term, people are going to feel the need to shoot at each other. And if the chips are down in their situation, they may easily do so in public places. We know this and we're not very comfortable with it, but we need each others' support now more than ever.
If you're a witness to a crime in progress, please follow your responsibility to all of us by acting. If it's a mellow scene, I usually investigate myself by just talking to the people involved. Diffusing sexual harrassment and breaking up fights are things most of us can do without the suport of law enforcement, though they do entail some risk.
Often, all it takes is for an outsider to enter a situation. Your interest is unanticipated, and your role is as a member of the larger culture - which has more cops and nuclear bombs than you can shake stick at. People respect the power of such interventions. If you think it's out of your league, just call the cops or notify another bystanders - a group of bystanders can be highly effective.
I've found myself in a wide variety of dangerous scenes, often ones that require medical support - highly injurious/fatal car accidents, riots, suicidal drug overdose attempts, near-drownings, and scores of minor injuries. You never know when you'll find yourself in such a situation.
I'm generally prepared for medical emergencies with a current first aid certification (First Responder or EMT recommended), and a first aid kit capable of handling major trauma. Accidentally saving someone's life happens rarely, but bandaging a minor bullet hole comes around once every couple of years.
In this crazy world so beset with violence, we need to stick together. I'll help you out if the shit hits the fan, regardless of whose 'side' you're on. I hope I can count on you to do the same.