.jpg)
If we understand shooters do we stand a chance? It seems like an every day deal. Sickening. The Second Amendment doesn't kill: aunts, grandmas, fathers, sisters, brothers or professors. A person does . . .
This is the beginning of a story I wrote. It was researched by myself. I was fortunate to have a discussion with a Columbine survivor. I'm a former cop, so I can say this is how a shooting can unfold. Confusion reigns. Death looms and we are left to wonder. I apologize if it's too long.
People
Shooter
Curt Rude
“Damn. Never seen
you guys coming,” McShuster said.
He tried to twist
his torso but couldn’t. The pain knocked the wind out of him. He’d been what
one of the cops called “planted” on the sidewalk, and his ears were ringing
from the gun blast. He wiggled his fingers handcuffed behind him. They hurt. He
imagined they were probably turning purple. His side was numb. “Not sure here.
I mean, who’s counting, but I feel like the entire cop nation landed on me out
there. Way I got it figured everything worked out good. Could’ve been a whole
lot worse, right?”
Officer Tracy was
in the driver’s seat. “Did you hear me read you your Miranda Warning? If so, I
suggest you remain silent.” She slid her hand down to check the strap on her
Glock. “What is this world coming to?” She checked the strap again. A lot of
officers develop nervous habits; checking her firearm was hers.
He looked out the
window at all kinds of people running to and from the school. It was mayhem.
Some were screaming. “Can you do something about my hands? They hurt. I won’t escape
on ya. I’ll answer
whatever you ask. Just loosen up my cuffs, please. I mean … Why I gotta have
these things on in the first place?”
The squad was
parked on the concourse in front of the school next to a flag pole. Its lights
were trained on a body lying on the ground. A man, not in uniform, was waving
at the approaching ambulance which jumped the curb and pulled up next to the
body. Two emergency technicians sprang from the ambulance. McShuster had to get
to work at Shorty’s Bar and Grill. He already had seventeen thousand in the
bank and he wanted to add to it. He glanced at his school. He already had half
his senior year over with.
“Ma’am, my hands
really hurt. Officer Tracy … isn’t that your name?” McShuster asked.
“Handcuffs are
necessary when someone brings a gun to school.” Officer Tracy held her hand,
palm up, over the steering wheel. Then she leaned toward the passenger seat and
picked up the wallet she had taken off him. “James McShuster. Is that you?”
“Yes.” He nodded his
head, then lowered his voice. “Is that there Noah hurt? Did he get planted
harder than me?” He started to lean forward before pain jolted him in a
straight-up position.
“I don’t get,” Officer
Tracy said shaking her head. “Why … more shootings? Can’t even send kids to a
basketball game no more. Used to be unarmed people—men, women and children—were
off limits,” Officer Tracy mumbled.
McShuster spoke
up. “Violence and guns is what it’s about. Shooters on a mission to go viral or
something. Be badass and blast their way onto the news. The whole deal.
Pictures with names … in the news, ruined parents. You know that? This stuff
here tonight was planned for a bad ending. You know. It was like a secret
mission. The same as they do in the army. I mean we had code words. We put
together target practice. It got serious in short order. I mean homemade
targets with names on them of dicks from school. It was funny until it wasn’t.
We make the gun deal with our hand and pulled an imaginary trigger with our
pointer finger. That meant target practice after school. I mean no harm no crime.
Don’t get me wrong here. I ain’t sayin’ guns is right or wrong. I’m just
saying—”
“Please shut it!’ Officer
Tracy glared at him in the rearview mirror shaking her head. “I’m going to read
you your rights and tape what you have to say. Okay, McShuster?”
Someone pounded on
the window. They both jumped. “Godammit. You just as well kill someone than
scare them half to death,” Tracy growled while sliding open the window. An
officer stood by the squad while glancing around the area.
“Sorry. Sorry,”
the officer said while still surveying the scene. Did he say anything about anyone helping him
here? He a lone gunman or what?” Several other officers crowded in around the
squad dressed up like soldiers, assault weapons held across their chests, the
word “Police” printed on their black outfits.
“If I say something,
can you loosen these?” McShuster leaned forward, exposing his cuffed hands.
“You good with
that, Jill?” The officer asked.
She got out of the
squad and started working a little key in the hole on the cuff. The handcuffs
had worked a deep imprint into his wrist, she noticed, suppressing a grin. Yes
sir … the little bastard got what he had coming.
“Yes, I’m here
doing what I had to do. I’m what you’d call a lone gunman. Wait a minute, I
don’t have a gun. I’m just here, I mean alone. How bad hurt is he?” McShuster
nodded toward Noah. Everyone ignored him.
The SWAT officer
lowered his voice. “Jill, is your daughter alright? Is she at the game?” Tracy
told him Megan was okay; that she had ran her friend to the hospital with a broken
arm.
“Good to hear.
Hang in there, Jill. We got to clear the school.” The group spun from the squad
and trotted into the north entrance.
After reading McShuster
his rights and double checking her device, she exhaled. She didn’t want to hear
it; when it got personal things got harder. Megan had been at the basketball
game. She was okay but was crying after spotting her mom getting out of her
squad, Megan had run up assuring Tracy she was okay but her friend was hurt. Not
shot. Just hurt. She had fallen off a bleacher and a bone was sticking out of
her arm. Megan was going to drive her but promised to drive carefully since ambulances
were waiting to only transport gunshot victims. Courtney was not going to die. She
needed a doctor though because it looked like it hurt. Bad.
“Where do I start
here? This is Officer Tracy. I’m with James McShuster,” she continued with what
sounded like legal gibberish to McShuster: times and dates and locations.
He quit listening
and watched them slide Noah into the ambulance. It hurt to have everything end
up like this. Noah shot? Shit happens, but really … Noah? Unreal. Was it all
because Noah hated dogs? Maybe he got bit once or something. He had beaten on Courtney’s
dog with a stick. Not like he had to. It was one of those obnoxious poodles. A
little one. What they called a miniature. Truth was Noah was always thumpin’ on
dogs. Maybe he hated ‘em for a reason. But no way this gave Courtney the right
to toss shade on Noah, telling him he reeked and then smearing dog shit on his
locker. Tonight she had something to worry about besides a mutt.
News Center 3
showed up and parked on the street in front of the school. McShuster watched
his favorite news reporter, Robert Macaday, step out and adjust his tie. A girl
was setting up a camera. McShuster would have loved all the excitement in a
prior life, but not tonight; people getting shot changes things.
Everyone knew Noah
could lose it in no time flat. Messing with him was mostly just supposed to be
fun. But no, sometimes a guy reaches his boiling point. Who wants to look
stupid? He made like being stupid was worse than no girlfriend. Everyone knew
it. He picked up a nick name he didn’t know about. Or, at least Noah never let
on about knowing. No-Ah girl for loser Noah.
The reporter waved
and approached the squad. “Our team called the tip in. Shooting was going to …
start during the game. Can I get a few words on record—” The reporter went mum after
making eye contact with McShuster. “Reporters get shot. Is that the only
shooter around here?” He spun and trotted to the van hollering to the camera
lady. She grabbed a mic and raced Robert to the van before they spun off.
“I was on my way
to work and it dawned on me. It’s like ‘I’d shoot up the school in a second,’ but
you think saying that stuff is a big joke. Sometimes a storm blows in and you drenched
because you didn’t see it in time.” McShuster looked at the growing crowd
across the street. “Can we leave—”
“Ten four, three-fourteen.
I have the perp in custody. Is the school cleared?” Officer Tracy asked.
“Can you check see
how Noah’s doing?” McShuster asked. He couldn’t believe it. Noah was his
shooting buddy. Why’d I shoot him? he wondered.
Officer Tracy put
the mic up near her mouth but then lowered it. “You act alone here?”
“I what?” McShuster
looked up.
She then put the
mic back up near her mouth. “I have one in custody. Male. White. Five-six or
seven. Black hoodie and jeans. He’s uncooperative.”
His face burned
where it had slammed into the cement. What really hurt was his body: the left
side of his chest up near his shoulder on the frontside. His hands felt a whole
lot better. But every time he breathed it stung bigtime. It was like the air
was full of ammonia or something. Then he felt sweat or something working down
his stomach.
“You Megan Tracy’s
mom?”
“Let’s leave her
out of it, please. I’ll ask the questions.”
“This is something
all you kids want to do? Make a damn name for yourself? That’s why the media
about beat us here, isn’t it? You called ‘em to show off. Christ … this
infuriates me!”
McShuster moved
carefully, working his way out of a slouch. When the cops took him into custody—that’s
what Officer Tracy called it—it left him feeling like he’d gotten trampled by
Clydesdales. “They ain’t all angels in there. Some of ‘em no better than
singing little shit birds. I know … I know you not wanting to hear it. But that
place is full of no good. That the long and short of it.” He shuttered. “Worst
place on earth is in a classroom.”
“Did you come here
tonight for a reason? To make it right or something?” Officer Tracy asked.
“I sure did. Guns
and knives make everything nice. Me and Noah used to holler that target
practicing. Somehow, I went from being a shooter to being the stopper. He’d say
‘I’m bigtime badass … only way to kill me is to cut my head off and hide it.’
I’d tell ‘em to chill. Think before ya hate. I know this; people shooters kill
because of everybody. Not because of just one dude poking fun. Guns change
things. Levels the playing field. Makes beggars out of pricks. You got a gun …
you the most important person in the universe. Yes ma’am … the rules change in
this here deal called the game of life. Ya know, life is full of a shit ton a wrongs.
I had to do something. Had to try.”
“I’m trying to
understand. Please continue.” Officer Tracy watched him in the rearview mirror.
After slowing for
the curb, the ambulance turned left, accelerating with its lights and siren on.
A silhouette was leaning over the gun on the sidewalk. Then it gestured for
someone else to stand near it. The silhouette joined four shadows with guns
drawn as they all ran towards the front door of the school. They were hollering
toward a couple that had stepped out of the building. The two held their hands
up and hollered, “Parents!”
“This is real, pal.
Guns build respect, one bloody little hole at a time. I’ll gun ‘em down. Let’s
see how they sound dead. You apt to not forget that.” A tear surprised him and
made him set up and clear his throat. “Where was I?”
“Shooting people—”
Three officers
were walking toward them. Officer Tracy got out and stepped in front of them.
One walked around her and pulled the door open; and grabbed McShuster. “See
them people.” He pointed at the large crowd across the street. He gripped McShuster’s
collar and pulled him halfway out of the squad and glared at him, inches from
his face. “They’d just as soon kill ya—punk—than look at you.”
So I'm told 'a cop would never do those things' by a reader. This was after she read JusThis. Gosh now we have a shooting in Cook's Corner.
Perfect murder anyone? Gotta say a Captain in Chicago did in fact say 'wow this can happen' after reading Brand of Justice.
How about Stunned and Seething? This book of shorts regards the human experience from a cops point of view. I been there and done that.
I'm thinking about posting a short story, People Shooter, after the next school shooting. My hands are kinda tied up on this one because it is up for awards. One judge did mention she thought cops would never do their jobs like this. I was a cop for a ton of years and know the story stands as I wrote it. Frustrated? Yes siree!
Mixing it up with a shot to Paradise Grizzly Country. Bigtime looking forward to the Cowboy Meet and Greet where books rule. Will be in Billings at the Mountainview to met up with Bill Huntington. Love the mans stories.
Thanks for the interest. Been on the run but will post another piece regarding the "People Shooter'. Been a while since we've had a mass shooting. Gets scary doesn't it?
Getting arrested can be confusing. Get this . . . we teach our children to respect authority and they are the types that go along with what the cop is suggesting. McShuster is having a bad night here and lands in a squad car. Confusing? You bet.
I was a cop. Been there and done that . . . right? So a young lady reviews one of my stories and makes the claim that 'Cops would never do that.' Next up . . . 'People Shooter'. Listen, I sat down with a survivor of Columbine and we went over that awful day. So I get accused of making money off the dead and injured. How about this . . . I write to live and learn. I'm putting together installments on twitter for those who want to take a peek.
After being trained in the Behavioral Services Department in the FBI National Academy I hit the streets. Then after some years of utilizing my skill set on the mean streets I now have discovered a new passion. I write. So what are all these mass shootings about? Read my short story . . . 'People Shooter'.
I was trained in the Behavioral Unit at the FBI National Academy. I apply these skills to my stories. I listen. I learn and then I write. This probably explains why my stories are ahead of the Headlines. I make every attempt at pulling no punches. Topics from mass shootings to sexual assaults are addressed.
Many establish a belief system and then defend it. No matter what. Loved ones who lost someone from gun violence, sound differently, than an individual who considers an assault weapon near and dear.
