I hit the electronic window release and the window started coming down. At least I had an escape route. I braced for impact. There was a nice but thin tree line dotting the narrow, high banks of the creek. My big truck would give me some protection but I had no idea if my pursuers would stay around to finish the job they started.
My truck skittered through the trees and slowed a little but then it ran out of terra firma and was sailing sideways through the air and into the creek, passenger side first. I looked to my left to see that my attacker had run up over the berm of the road and stopped just before the tree line. He sat staring at me from behind dark sunglasses. He had a gun raised in his left hand. It was pointed out the window toward me. That was the last thing I saw before my truck hit the lower part of the bank, rolled and then hit the water, passenger side down.
It had been a fairly dry spring so far. The creek was a bit deeper than it would be at the peak of summer and moving pretty good but not enough to suck the truck completely under – even on its side – or to move it along in the current.
The steering wheel airbag deployed at impact stunning me. I hung sideways in my seatbelt. After a few seconds - that seemed like an eternity - the bag began to deflate and I started to breathe again. The truck rested on its side, passenger side down. The driver’s side, with the open driver’s side window was up out of the water. For the moment, I was protected from the view of my attacker by the undercarriage of the truck. I shut the still running engine off and looked around. My phone was resting against the opposite door. Creek water was coming in through cracks in the windshield. In moments it would likely shatter and I’d be both soaked and without any working form of communication. Hurriedly, I unlatched my belt and reached for the phone. I grabbed it and then tried to reposition myself standing upright on the interior of the passenger door. The rushing creek likely wouldn’t reach the top of my gun belt when the windshield finally went.
As I dialed 911, a gunshot pierced the air followed very quickly by a ping somewhere off of metal just over my head. He had a good enough angle to shoot into my door! I prayed more traffic would come along and he’d get in his van and leave before he was spotted. I’m a sitting duck!
I crouched low and prayed the windshield held a little longer. I was already ankle deep in water. I didn’t relish the soaking or the cuts I was likely to get when the whole thing came crashing in.
“911 Dispatch. What’s your emergency?”
Another shot rang out. I started choking out words to the dispatcher. “It’s Sherriff Crane. I’ve been run off the road into Salt Creek at the intersection of Cutler and Mannsfork roads by a White, ¾ ton van with Illinois license plates. One assailant is armed and dangerous. Unknown number of assailants. Dispatch any PD or County units in the vicinity. Advise they proceed with extreme caution.”
By the time I’d identified myself, I could hear other dispatchers broadcasting my distress call out. At least it was my county issued cell phone I had been carrying and my identity wasn’t questioned!
“Shots fired” was a phrase that was repeated several times. The first dispatcher had to have heard the shot as she came on the line...
I blew out a breath and prayed that units were in the area.
Over the deafening sounds of my own breathing and the flowing creek, I picked up the sound of an emergency siren. Then, seconds later, I heard tires squeal. I hoped it was my attacker leaving the scene.
My elation was short lived. As I stood back up from my crouched position, the windshield gave way. Safety glass chunks scattered everywhere and cold, muddy creek water poured into my sideways cab. Life sucks but at least I’m alive to tell about it!
After a minute or so, the sound of sirens filled the air. I hazarded a peek up through my open window. I could only see the edge of the steep bank from my vantage point and there was no way to leverage myself out of the truck. It was going to be difficult to get out of both the truck and the creek.
Dispatch was still on the line. “I believe the van has left the scene. I can see out of the truck but I can’t see much from where I am. There isn’t anyone shooting anymore.”
“A city unit is in pursuit of a white van with Illinois plates Sheriff. A unit should be on the scene with you momentarily and rescue units are being dispatched. We’ll get you out of there!”
An hour later, I was sitting on the back bumper of a rescue squad, soaked, muddy and with a few cuts and a pounding headache but thankfully alive and free of major injuries. My truck was in much worse shape. The city PD had a recovery vehicle and crew out trying to right it and pull it out of the creek. There was even talk of bringing a crane in to hoist it. I just wanted to cry. The truck was my baby! I held back my tears and tried to regroup.
As I was exiting the creek, a deputy had handed me a radio. I was still hearing traffic chatter as the chase of the white van continued. Various officers in pursuit were reporting two assailants visible and multiple shots fired. Dana had been right all along. This is a dangerous game, played for keeps!
I needed to call her and tell her what was happening here and warn her to be extremely cautious. In my currently backwards state of mind, I felt responsible for putting her in extreme danger too.
I pulled up Dana’s number and dialed. My call went right to her voicemail. I left an urgent message to call me. There wasn’t anything else I could do. Here I was, a Sheriff, but I’d never felt so powerless.