FRIDAY, MAY 26 – Friday morning Janet reminded the kids that she and Richard would both be staying late at the station for the “911 Live” test run, then going out to dinner together. Tommy had a baseball game that night. Susan volunteered to take him, knowing that her parents would be out, and she made it into a date with Drew. But that morning as she ate her breakfast with her family, Susan had the more immediate concern of Amy's upcoming abortion on her mind.
Amy, Bobbie, and Susan met outside Mrs. Simpson's office that morning, and Bobbie made her last-minute plea to Amy, which Amy refused to hear. Shortly afterward Amy and Susan were in the van headed for the abortion clinic, while Bobbie found an office in the PE Department in which to pray.
Susan remained silent, wanting to support and respect her friend's decision, even though her father's words had come immediately to her mind again when she had awakened that morning.
Nepravel was livid. The barrage of prayers for Amy had let up only slightly during the night. With the dawn, they had intensified again. Then the Meredith girl's last minute plea to Amy had been short but powerful. It was lucky that he had followed Amy to school and could be there to combat Truth with the voice of Decisions Made. But the prayers were taking their toll—the voices in Amy were winding down. She was starting to think about the baby again, and about her cousin Catherine, as she rode along in the van with Susan and two girls from Riverside High. This might be touch and go, despite the determined front she had put up only the day before. Nepravel hated their prayers!
And now, worst of all, from his vantage point on top of the van, Nepravel could clearly see what appeared to be the glistening light of at least one angel in the vicinity of the abortion clinic. Oh, great! All these prayers for Amy and the usual prayers from the believers demonstrating in front of the clinic had finally produced the divine intervention he so feared, because his horde was not ready for it. Yes, there he was. A huge warrior angel right over the abortion clinic, his talons poised and his beaks snapping.
As the van neared the abortion clinic and the angel saw the two demons riding on top, he began to fly in their direction. Nepravel, being a liar but not a fool, knew that alone they were no match for one of God's fiercest warriors, and he beat a fast retreat, followed closely by his companion. The angel returned to his position over the clinic, and Nepravel stood off at a distance and cursed. “Now who will tend to the voices in Amy?” he spat.
The van made it through the demonstrators outside the abortion clinic, and the four girls went inside. There they were greeted by an efficient-looking nurse in a crisp white uniform. She welcomed all the girls and began the process of filling out the forms, then starting the blood tests for the two girls who would be having the abortions that morning.
All across the city, members of the Morningside Prayer Warrior team, alerted to the approximate time of the scheduled abortion, stopped whatever they were doing and prayed to God for Amy.
He heard. And, as He promised, He answered. Another angel flew down to the clinic. With the one stationed outside, the second angel entered the clinic to clean out any demons hiding inside. Nepravel cursed even louder as he saw the two lesser demons fleeing through the clinic's side walls.
Amy and Susan were nervous, but they took their seats as the nurse began with the girl from Riverside High. Amy quickly read through the forms, checked the appropriate boxes, and put down the clipboard. Like Susan, she tried to pick up a magazine, but she just couldn't focus on it.
All those people outside—she could still hear them shouting every now and then—were just to try to stop girls like her. They seemed so serious. And Bobbie cried over this baby—fetus—inside her. And Glenn Jamison was praying last week for her. Bobbie was even praying now—maybe Glenn was too. Were all of them right? Could all these people be so concerned if they weren't right? Her hands suddenly became damp, and she felt lightheaded. The voices planted by the demons had almost been silenced by all the prayers. The angels had taken the area, and there were no demons to whisper in her ear or to spin the voices again. She started to think about the toddlers at the playground. She thought again about her cousin Catherine and her two children. Did she herself have the courage to have a baby? Could she do it? Imagine bringing a new life into the world! Her mom might understand after a few days, but what about her dad? What about Billy? What about her life? What a disruption. But surely the baby would be cute, and she could make some young married couple very happy. Maybe she could even visit the child some day…
At that moment the spiritual battle was won by the prayers and by the angels. The demons had retreated. The voices were silenced. Amy was open to hearing and acting on the Truth. But angels only rarely talk to humans.
Susan, who had been wrestling most of the night and all of the morning with her father's information, was flipping through a magazine, trying not to think about what they were doing. Just then, she and Amy heard the whirring sound of the cutter and suction pump slicing into the other girl's baby, and the magazine Susan was holding opened simultaneously to an advertisement with two young toddlers chasing a puppy across a playground.
Susan could stand it no longer. She looked up at Amy, who was also listening to the machine at work, and said, “Amy, I know this is the worst possible time I could tell you this, and I've tried so very hard to hold it in. But last night my father told me that they have many, many couples who desperately want newborn babies—and they can arrange for everything, all of the medical expenses and everything. I hate to tell you this now, but I think Bobbie is right, that this abortion is wrong. I know it's easy for me to say, but I wish you weren't having it.”
Amy sat quietly, listening to the machine in the other room and looking at Susan, the tears running down Susan's cheeks, and the magazine open on her lap to the two toddlers.
“I… I know. I've gone back and forth myself.” And now Amy closed her eyes as her own tears started to come. “It would be so hard to have a baby. It would mess up my life completely. But then I think about all those little babies and the life that is actually growing inside me, right now, and I hear that machine in there sucking the life out of that girl. And I just go round and round…But maybe if you and Bobbie will help me…maybe I can make it. I don't know. How will I ever tell my parents? Oh, God, please help me.”
Susan moved over and sat in the chair next to Amy. She took her hand. Amy continued, “I…what a mess. If I don't have this abortion, everybody is going to be mad at me.”
“But Bobbie and I won't,” Susan smiled through her tears. “And I don't imagine that God will be either.”
Feeling a new resolve growing inside her, gathering strength from Susan's strength, Amy managed a small smile too. “If I don't have this abortion now, you do realize that you're going to have a lot to learn about with me,” Amy said, squeezing Susan's hand. “Because, ‘I don't know nothin’ about birthin’ no babies.’” She smiled again, breaking the awful tension they had both been under for so long.
Just then the nurse walked in and was surprised to see the two girls holding hands, crying, and smiling. She said, “All right, Amy. We're all set. It won't take long at all, and you'll be back at school.”
Amy interrupted her, “That's OK. I can be back at school much sooner, because I've decided not to have the abortion.”
“What? But it's all set up. You've reserved our time, and it's unheard of for a girl of your age to stop an abortion at this point. Surely it's the best thing for you in your situation,” the nurse said, trying to sound stern.
“I'm sure you're right. It probably is unheard of. But now you're hearing it.” She smiled, still holding Susan's hand. “I don't want to have the abortion. If it costs me something, I'll pay it. But please just get us back to school, either by that van or a taxi, or I'll call someone or whatever.” And she took the forms from the clipboard, tore them into four pieces, and handed them to the nurse.
“Well, there's a fifty-dollar cancellation fee within twenty-four hours of the scheduled time, so you must pay that.”
Amy let go of Susan's hand, wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her own hand, took out her purse, and gave the nurse fifty dollars.
Obviously displeased, the nurse took the money and said, “Fine. I'll get you a receipt. The van will leave in about an hour, after the waiting period following the first procedure.”
“We don't want to wait that long,” Susan said. “I'll call Morningside Church, and I bet Glenn Jamison or someone can come and take us back to school.”
Amy nodded. Susan asked the nurse if there was a phone which she could use. Doubly displeased but unable to fight it, the nurse said, “Yes, I guess there is. Come, follow me.”
Nepravel, standing off at a distance for his own safety, saw the angels over the abortion clinic scream in agony as the first baby was killed. The angels flapped their massive wings and raised their mournful cries to heaven. Nepravel loved it and assumed that both babies were suffering the same fate.
“They huff and they puff,” Nepravel laughed to himself as the spirit of the first baby rose and was taken by one of the angels to her special place in heaven, “but in the end, we always win! We're just too many for them, and we have too many dupes and allies. How long before we control it all!?!” he yelled at the angels.
Just then he noticed the front door of the clinic open, which was most unusual, and Amy and Susan walked out, down the steps and onto the sidewalk, where a brief discussion with the protestors brought hugs and kisses and shouts of praise. A few minutes later a car pulled up and stopped in front of the clinic, and Nepravel recognized Glenn Jamison from Morningside Church, who got out, came around the car, and hugged Amy, then Susan. Then all of them, including the demonstrators, gathered in a circle on the sidewalk and prayed together!
Nepravel was livid. He cursed Richard Sullivan and the Morningside Church. Somehow Sullivan's daughter must have squelched the abortion. He was just starting to think about what he would say at their midnight gathering, when he noticed the remaining angel leaving the clinic, empowered by the prayers of the believers on the street, and heading right for him. Without further thought, he flew as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
Nurse Simpson was sitting at her desk, finishing the week's paperwork, when her door opened and Amy and Susan walked in. Surprised, she looked at her watch and said, “My goodness, how can you be back so soon? That was quick.”
“It was quick…” Amy smiled, obviously pleased, “because I didn't have the abortion. I decided not to. I'm not sure how I'll do it—and I hope you'll help me—but I'm going to have this baby.” And the excitement in her voice was genuine, even to Nurse Simpson.
“You didn't? Why not? And how did you get back here?”
“I called Morningside Church,” said Susan, “and someone came and got us and brought us back to school.”
“You mean you didn't get the abortion I set up for you, and then you rode in an unauthorized vehicle during school hours?” Mrs. Simpson asked, her anger obviously rising. “Do you realize that you've damaged our relationship with the clinic, which may make it more difficult for other girls in the future to have the procedure? And if anything had happened to you in that car, I would have been held responsible.”
Amy looked down at the floor for a moment. She was suddenly struck by the bizarre truth that it was OK for her to have an abortion without her parents knowing it, on school time, but it was not OK for her to ride in a car driven by a minister! She looked up at Susan and then turned to Mrs. Simpson. She said quietly, “And do you realize that a baby is still alive inside me, which would be dead now if we had followed through with the abortion? It seems to me like a small price to pay for a human life.”
After Susan and Amy left in the van, Bobbie alternated between praying and reading her Bible in the vacant PE department office. Suddenly the door to the office opened and her two friends walked in, smiling. Bobbie, who had been praying on her knees, looked up and could not believe that Susan and Amy were back from the abortion clinic so soon. As she stood up, but before she could speak, Amy hurried to her and hugged her tightly. While they hugged, Susan came up behind Amy and looked into Bobbie's eyes, smiling. “We looked all over the school, and finally figured out you might be here. Amy didn't have the abortion,” Susan said.
Bobbie couldn't believe it. She started to jump for joy while Amy was still hugging her, then remembered Amy's condition and stopped. So she hugged her tightly and said, “Praise God. Oh, Amy, I'm so happy. I mean I'm so sorry for you. But I'm so happy for you too. What are you going to do? How can I help? I should call the church and tell Glenn.”
“Well, to start with, Glenn already knows, because we called him and he brought us back to school,” Amy said, finally releasing enough pressure to look Bobbie in the eyes. “As for all the rest of it, I don't know. But I've taken you and Susan at your word that you'll help me. I've taken on—I mean we've taken on—a huge responsibility. We've got a lot of things to do, starting I guess with my parents and Billy and this attorney who works with Susan's dad who arranges adoptions, and I really don't know what. I'm so happy and so scared at the same time. I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. Do any of you have any ideas what we should do first?” Amy asked.
“Yes,” Bobbie said. “First we ought to pray. To thank God for what He has done today in your life, and in our lives, and to ask Him for His guidance and protection for you and your baby, starting right now.”
Amy nodded, and the three girls formed a circle in the middle of the small office, held hands, and prayed. For the first time, both Amy and Susan prayed out loud with Bobbie, giving the next eight months to the Lord and asking for His wisdom and protection.
As the regular work day drew to a close, Richard knew he had to leave on time in order to be at TV5 for the warm-up to the test run for “911 Live.” Since they were leaving to spend the weekend in the mountains with the Bryants the next morning, Richard promised himself that he would not take a lot of work home that evening. So for the first time in longer than he could remember, he actually left his briefcase on the floor of his office, next to his desk. He put on his navy blue suit coat, said goodbye to Mary, and left, just a little after five.
As he waited for the elevator with both hands free, he couldn't help thinking of the image of a prisoner, escaping without his ball and chain to weigh him down. I ought to do this more often, he thought, with a smile.
Over at TV5, Bill Shaw was introducing Janet, Tom Spence, and Connie Wright to Bob Grissom and to Mark Pugh, the producer and director, respectively, of “911 Live.” Once the introductions in the conference room were completed, Bill began, “We should have a really good opportunity to test both the concept and the equipment this evening. Mark, Janet, and Connie will be staying here in the studio control booth, directing the show and controlling the helicopter, the reporter/camera teams in the three roving patrols, and the remote control cameras on the emergency vehicles. Since there will just be the three of us actually going out on the street, we'll be in the back seat of a police car on the north side of the city. All the vehicles will be hooked together by a two-channel radio link. Bob and Mark will have a direct link as the network representatives, and I'll have a TV5 headphone through which Janet and I can talk. Hopefully, after all of this preparation, we'll have some ‘action’ to record.”
“We're really looking forward to this trial run, as well,” added Bob Grissom. “It should be very close to the feel of the national show that starts this fall, and we're delighted to have you folks coming along and helping in the control booth, to add your local spin to whatever happens this evening. I probably don't need to say this, but I do want to remind us that we are all just observers. Whatever may happen, I want us to remain safe and not to get involved. We're there to observe and to report, but not to interact in any way. OK?” he concluded, looking particularly at Tom and Bill.
There were nods all around the table. “Well, if that's it,” said Bill, “the three of us will head out to the north area precinct to pick up the police car they've assigned for us to ride in. Mark, I know you have a lot of last minute things to do here at the station to get ready, as do Janet and Connie. Good luck to all of us.”
As the six of them split up, Janet stopped Bill and said, “I really appreciate the way you've arranged for our involvement in this test run, to get first-hand experience.” Bill smiled and nodded. Janet continued, “Richard and I are planning to go out to dinner after the show, so I invited him to come down and watch what's happening, back in the studio with everyone else from the station who is here. I hope that's OK.”
“Sure, Janet. That's fine. Richard is always welcome. Let's just keep our fingers crossed that everything goes well.” He smiled one more time, then turned and headed out the door to catch up with Tom and Bob.
As Kristen took out her wallet to purchase the scarf she needed against the cold breeze from San Francisco Bay, she glanced for a second at the key to Peter's apartment at the bottom of her purse. That brought a smile.
Peter had met her late that morning and had taken her to his loft apartment in downtown San Francisco. She had smiled at the slightly eccentric, masculine touches in what was definitely a bachelor pad, complete with king-sized bed. They kissed in the bedroom after she had hung up her clothes, but when she moved to kiss him again, he pulled back and said with an exaggerated English accent, “Now, Princess Kristen, you may be here for a fairytale weekend, but the good Prince Peter has to earn money to pay for his apartment and other items he finds convenient, which means he has to work. They are expecting me to show up around 1:00 this afternoon to work on the Saturday morning edition, so we just have time to grab a bite to eat.”
She frowned but let him go. He continued, “After lunch, you can go shopping and then come back to the apartment. Here's a spare key. You can then take a bath, make yourself lovely, whatever the right term is. And I'll show up about seven and be more than glad to pick up right where we're now leaving off.”
He bowed. She curtsied. And, laughing together, they left for lunch.
For the night's test run of “911 Live,” the police car in which the three men were riding with two officers from the north precinct had been fitted with special equipment in the trunk, making a live television link possible. Bob Grissom and the others could watch a small hand-held monitor in the back seat and see whatever scene Mark was following from the director's booth back at the station. By actually being in the police car, they could see, hear, and feel exactly what the emergency personnel were seeing, hearing, and feeling, supposedly one of the show's strong points. They could compare the two—live and televised—to test the validity of their reporting style.
Bob Grissom and Bill Shaw wore miniature headsets linking them back to Mark and Janet in the control room. At 7:30 Mark brought up the “911 Live” logo and cut to John Blevins, the local newscaster who was substituting for the as-yet-unnamed national personality who would host the network show. Behind John were several monitors, and he began a recap of the various live stories in progress around the city, which they had been monitoring for the previous hour.
Richard had arrived at the studio in plenty of time to watch all of the preparations being made and to marvel at the behind-the-scenes chaos which somehow always turned into a respectable television show for public consumption over the airways. Although he did not understand everything Janet was doing, he still found himself being quite proud of the responsibilities which she was obviously handling well, working with the various people necessary to direct and to produce such a complex undertaking. This was certainly her world, and he did not try to intervene in any way. Rather, he stood on the sidelines and watched, having an occasional chat with the few station personnel he knew.
In the back of the police car, Bob was sitting in the middle of the seat, with the small monitor on his knees. Bill Shaw was on his right, with Tom Spence on his left. Bob talked to Mark over the headset about the need for additional equipment when the national show was underway, including wider angle lenses on the minicameras, and button microphones. Bill Shaw told Janet over their radio link that they should always know the names of the emergency personnel on duty on any given Friday evening, so they could add a local visual overlay whenever the national show might cut to their city, identifying the police officers, fire fighters, or emergency medical personnel involved in a particular situation. Janet made a note that it would be good to create a local visual overlay identifying their city, which they could also add whenever the network cut to them.
The three television men had been introduced to their police officer hosts and escorts upon arrival at the north precinct. The officer driving their patrol car that evening was Pete Talmadge, who had been on the force for six years. His partner in the right hand seat, Doug Higgins, was younger. As they drove around, the three television men, particularly Tom Spence, who was not wearing a headset, asked them about their backgrounds and why they risked their lives every day as police officers. “Somebody's got to do it,” Talmadge replied. And, smiling, he continued, “And where else could I have so much fun with wonderful people like Officer Higgins here? Why, you should hear his stories about growing up. You guys should do a documentary on this man alone. He was a hero in his neighborhood by the time he was twelve!” The admiration for his partner was obvious in Talmadge's voice, despite the good natured joking. Higgins smiled, but didn't say anything.
As the sun started down, Tom asked the younger officer, “Why do you guys go out at night? Isn't it more dangerous than during the daytime?”
This time Higgins replied. “Yes and no. A lot of times policemen get in trouble when they let their defenses down. That's easier to do in the daytime, like when you stop somebody going ten miles an hour too fast, walk up to the car in the middle of the afternoon, and get blown away. At night, we assume that everybody we deal with is a bad guy, and we take as many precautions as we can. It keeps us focused, you might say.”
Tom asked, and they all learned, that Officer Talmadge had a wife and two young children, the older about to start first grade in the fall. Higgins had only been married eighteen months, and he and his wife were expecting their first child in September. Tom made some personal notes on the pad he was carrying, in case there was a reason to expand the human interest side of the program that night.
During the first ninety minutes of the test run, Janet had to admit that the pace and the subject matter were similar to many other shows already on television. The fact that it was live did add a dimension of excitement, since no one, including the anchorperson, knew exactly what would happen next. Mark Pugh and John Blevins skillfully kept the tempo upbeat during several slow moments. By this time in the evening, several of the original situations were still “in play”, and John ran through the recaps of each situation after their commercial breaks, as if they were following several football games at once.
Suddenly over the police radio came the code for a possible armed robbery in progress at a fast-food restaurant. The location was only two exits north on the interstate from their present position. The officer driving the patrol car turned on the blue lights and sped up to respond.
As the patrol car accelerated, the car just ahead of it on the interstate swerved quickly to the right, into the middle of the three lanes, to let the patrol car pass. The driver of the car already in the middle lane, seeing the car swerve in front of him and the blue lights from the patrol car pass him, was startled. But there were no van and no yellow flashing lights next to him, and he could see that he had room to maneuver if he had to. So he slowed with his brake as a caution, but he did not slam them on. The driver of the large tractor trailer behind that car was able to slow down without a problem. There was, therefore, no wreck on the interstate that night.
The three television men could feel the adrenaline starting to pump in their veins as the patrol car sped up the interstate, its lights flashing and siren blaring. Exiting the interstate, Talmadge killed the siren and the blue lights. They were now on a four-lane main street, with low-rise suburban commercial development on both sides. The fast-food restaurant was located only two blocks from the interstate, and as they came down a slight grade, they had an excellent view of the store.
Just after a white, four-door sedan pulled out of the restaurant parking lot, still a block away, their dispatcher radioed that the manager of the store had called to report a single armed gunman had just driven off in a white sedan with approximately three hundred dollars out of their cash register.
“Tell them we've got the suspect car in sight and will be in pursuit on Route 36,” Talmadge said to Higgins.
Higgins reached for the radio microphone while Talmadge turned on the blue flashing lights and siren and accelerated toward the white sedan.
Immediately upon seeing the patrol car behind him, the driver of the white car accelerated rapidly around three cars in front of him and took off up the street at an increasing speed.
“We're in hot pursuit west on Route 36,” Higgins said into the microphone. “Request back-up assistance.”
The two professionals in the front seat automatically helped each other with the difficult task of chasing a car at high speed on a crowded city street. The three television men in the back hung on as best they could, and Bob Grissom was delighted to see that the picture coming over the television on his lap exactly corresponded to what they could see out the front window of the patrol car, as the minicam bolted to the light bar on the roof faithfully recorded their chase, even in the increasing darkness.
“How are you guys doing? “ Mark asked from the control room. “Fine,” answered Bob Grissom. “I'm holding onto Bill and Tom, and they're holding onto the doors. The picture looks great!”
“Tell central we may have to break this off,” Talmadge yelled to Higgins. “This is getting too dangerous for the conditions on this street, and we've got these passengers with us.”
Higgins picked up the microphone and was about to repeat his senior partner's message when the white sedan suddenly veered to the right, up and into what appeared to be a large, vacant construction site, and stopped in a cloud of dust.
Talmadge turned into the same driveway, and their headlights momentarily reflected off a large sign announcing that a new shopping center was to be built on that site. Talmadge brought the patrol car to a stop about thirty feet from the white sedan, parked parallel to the street in the large dirt lot. He stopped almost perpendicular to the street so that from his driver's side window and from Tom Spence's window behind him, there was an excellent view of the car, from which there had been no movement since it stopped.
The veteran officer quickly turned on the spotlight attached to his patrol car next to his outside mirror and swiveled its light onto the sedan. He rolled down his window and cracked his door, but did not get out. Higgins also cracked his door, and both men drew their service revolvers. Talmadge nodded at Higgins, who picked up a second microphone, attached to a loudspeaker, and said, “You in the car, throw out your weapon, open the door, and get out real slow, with your hands in the air.”
The window on the driver's side of the sedan began to roll down, and Talmadge leveled his service revolver on the car through his own open window. A single large-caliber hand gun was thrown out of the driver's window, about ten feet, and then the driver's door was cracked, and a voice yelled, “OK. Don't shoot. I'm coming out.”
The driver's door opened, and a single man in his early twenties got out, raised his hands, and stood by the open door.
“Be careful,” Talmadge said to Higgins. “I don't like this. It's been too easy. You go around on the right, and I'll circle in from the left.”
The two officers opened their doors further and got out. “Stand right there with your hands up!” Talmadge yelled at the man by the car, as the senior officer moved slowly out from behind his own open door, all the time keeping his revolver pointed toward the car.
In the back seat, the three television men could glance back and forth from the reality directly in front of them to the monitor in Bob Grissom's lap. Grissom was doing his best to feed a narrative of what was happening back to Mark Pugh in the control room.
At the station, Richard and twenty or so of the station staff had been watching all the coverage that evening, but the drama of this live chase, accompanied by Bob Grissom's occasional narration, was by far the most interesting. Now they were all looking at the white sedan, bathed in the light from the stationary spotlight. They could see the car and the gunman with his hands raised. Unseen off camera, the two officers approached the car and the gunman from opposite sides, coming up on the rear of the car.
The three television men watched from the patrol car only a few feet away. Suddenly and without warning, both back doors of the white car opened, and there were bright blasts and loud cracks from two automatic machine guns, firing on the police officers at close range. Though their reactions were quick, they were not fast enough for the fire power leveled at them. Each man was hit several times, and the two gunmeft kept firing. The driver leapt in the air and clapped his hands for joy. Bill Shaw in the back seat screamed, “Oh, my God!” so loudly that it almost knocked Janet off of her chair in the control room. Everyone in the station had seen the flashes of gunfire, but they didn't know the results. As soon as the firing finally stopped, Bill Shaw whispered into his headset, “Janet! They've shot both officers, probably killed them. We're here all alone. Get help! Get some help, quick!”
Janet reached for the telephone by her elbow and, keeping her eyes on the monitor, which still showed the car and the gunman, she dialed 911.
Everyone watching then saw the standing gunman point directly toward the side of the car where the spotlight was stationed, and the second gunman, crouched down behind the driver's seat, let fly another long burst from his machine gun to put out the spotlight. The burst of machine gun fire sprayed all over the patrol car, smashing the spotlight, but also breaking glass in the windows and ricocheting off the door posts and all the other metal in the car.
Because of the angle at which they were parked, the structure of the car somewhat protected Bill and Bob, but not Tom Spence, who was directly in the line of fire, seated almost directly behind the spotlight. A direct shot grazed his upper left temple, but a ricochet off the open door post entered his upper chest, near his lungs, just missing his heart. The sound of the breaking glass and the ricocheting was deafening to all three men, who simultaneously tried to slide down in their seat. Both Janet and Mark heard screams over their headsets from Bill and Bob. Then suddenly there was silence.
The minicamera on the roof, which had miraculously been spared any damage, quickly adjusted to the new low-light situation without the spotlight, and once again everyone at the station could see the car, though it was not as clear without the help of the extra light. The driver walked over and picked up his revolver from the ground where he had thrown it, then started walking toward the patrol car.
Mark Pugh found that he still had control of the minicam by radio, and as the gunman walked first over to investigate Officer Talmadge on the ground and then toward the patrol car, Mark was able to follow him with the camera.
While that was happening, the three television men in the back seat didn't know whether to look out or to stay down. “I've been shot,” Tom hoarsely whispered, trying to reach his right hand toward his chest, but unable to do so because Bob had fallen across him as the bullets ricocheted through the car.
“Tom's been shot. What's happening? Please somebody get some help,” Bill pleaded across his headset to Janet. Janet noticed that her hands began to shake as she held the telephone receiver and relayed Bill's news and his plea to the 911 dispatcher. On the other end of the line, the dispatcher assured her that backup help would be there in less than two minutes, and she relayed this word to Bill through her headset.
In the back studio, all the staff and Richard were on their feet, glued to the large monitor and hearing the internal communications being broadcast across the headsets and through large speakers set up for that purpose.
Meanwhile the gunman, having kicked once at Talmadge's motionless body, turned toward the patrol car and immediately dropped into a shooter's stance when he saw the small red light on the minicam. For a moment he stared, and even in the near darkness the excellent minicam lens was able to pick up his facial expressions, as he realized what he was seeing. He relaxed a bit, but kept his revolver pointed toward the car, then walked in that direction.
“We can't see anything, and Tom is bleeding like crazy. What's happening?” Bill whispered.
“He's…he's walking toward the patrol car,” Janet whispered back.
The gunman was looking at the camera, which was looking at him, and not until he was right up to the car did he notice what looked like bodies in the back seat. “What's this?” he said out loud and opened the door next to where Tom lay. When he did so, the release of the pressure on Tom's lower body caused him to move, creating great pain, and he groaned. Bill and Bob moved slightly as well. The gunman, now bathed eerily in the glow from the overhead light inside the patrol car, yelled this time, pointing his gun right at Bob's head, “Who are you!?!”
Bob Grissom, lying partly on top of Tom and feeling the blood oozing between the fingers of his left hand, staring down the barrel of a .357 magnum revolver, with a wild killer on the other end, could not say anything at first, but finally whispered, “Television.”
Mark had been able to swivel the camera and refocus it up close, and from its position just above the gunman's head, with the light coming out of the patrol car, everyone in the studio could again see the recognition on the gunman's face. He actually smiled as he realized what was happening.
“Television! You mean we're on television?” Bill didn't know whether to say yes or no, afraid of the possible reaction from either answer. But the gunman leaned in the car and shoved the barrel of the revolver right up against his head and yelled again, “Are we on television?” Bill closed his eyes and nodded once.
The gunman pulled out of the back seat and yelled toward his friends in the car, “Hey, guys. We've been on television all this time!”
To the horror of everyone in the station, the gunman backed a few paces away from the car, smiled toward the camera and used his free hand to smooth down the hair on his head. “What channel?” he asked in Bob's direction.
Hoarsely the producer replied, “Five.”
“Hey, guys, we're on TV5.” He smiled at the minicam again and flashed his revolver in front of his face. “Hi, Louise. This was for all the Diablos!”
Then leaning down again into the back seat of the patrol car, where Bill Shaw was also now staring back at him, he laughed and pointed his revolver at the three men in turn. “Hey, pukeheads. You want I should blow your heads off on television?”
Back in the studio, everyone heard the audio coming across the headset, which had fallen around Bob's neck, and Janet felt as if a knife were turning in her stomach.
“Turn off the camera. Please turn off the camera,” she pleaded with Mark.
“No, not on your life. This is awful, but we've got to get it,” he yelled back at her.
Bill closed his eyes again and shook his head slowly. In the distance, they could hear what sounded like several police sirens.
“Yeah, you're probably right,” the gunman said, pulling his revolver back.
“We love to kill policemen, like we did tonight, but we probably shouldn't hurt the television men, particularly since you've been so good to us,” he smiled, nodding down toward Tom, whose chest was now completely covered in blood.
Richard was in bad shape, but he was driving because he was in better shape than Janet, who sat next to him in the car, and Connie, who was in the back seat. They both burst into tears about a minute after the gunmen drove off, the other police cars arrived, and Bill confirmed with what energy he had left that Officer Talmadge was apparently dead, that young Officer Higgins was terribly wounded and probably wouldn't make it, and that their own Tom Spence was also badly wounded and covered in blood, almost unable to breathe. An ambulance screamed up right behind the patrol cars. Richard was now driving the three of them to the large county hospital where Tom and the two police officers were being taken at high speed.
“Oh, Richard, I feel so terrible,” Janet said holding his handkerchief to her face. “Tom and those poor police officers! And who knows, if you hadn't said something, maybe it would have been Connie and me too.”
“I just can't believe there are people like that in the world,” Connie volunteered in a low voice from the back seat. “People who say there is no devil should watch the tape of what we just saw.” She shook her head, trying to fight back her own tears as well.
They arrived at the hospital only minutes after the ambulance. They parked and walked unsteadily into the emergency room, where they were confronted by a police officer, who told them they would have to stay in the waiting room until he had more information. He was obviously upset by the night's events as well, and though he was pleasant, he was also firm.
“Do you know whether the hospital has a chapel?” Connie asked. Her question seemed to melt him a bit.
“Yeah, there's one just out the door of the waiting room and down the hall on the left. You're welcome to go there, and I'll come and tell you any news. Please pray for these guys,” the officer said.
“We will,” Connie said, and she opened the door to the hallway for Richard and Janet.
The small nondenominational chapel had a center aisle with four rows of pews on each side, three seats per pew. The pews faced a large, beautiful stained-glass window, which took up most of the end wall and was back lit from the other side. No one was in the chapel at the time, so the three of them went to the front row. Richard and Janet knelt on the right, and Connie on the left. They began to pray.
Over the next thirty minutes, more of the Christian believers from the television station, hearing about what had happened, came to the hospital and found their way to the chapel, along with their spouses. At one point the police officer opened the door to the chapel and simply announced to those inside that Officer Talmadge was, in fact, pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. He added that Tom Spence and Officer Higgins were both in operating rooms, hanging on by threads. Soon the chapel was nearly full, and prayers both vocal and silent were lifted up for Tom, for Officer Higgins, for the soul of Officer Talmadge, for their families, for the gunmen, and for all members of the city's emergency teams.
After a while, Janet whispered to Richard that she was going to go look for Tom's wife in the waiting room. Richard nodded, and then slipped out of the chapel with her. Janet, who knew Sandy Spence from several pleasant meetings when she had visited Tom at the station, found her sitting in a back corner of the waiting room, holding hands with a young, pregnant woman. The two of them had their heads bowed in prayer. Janet and Richard walked up quietly and waited for the two women to stop praying. Sandy recognized Janet and stood up, and they hugged. Janet introduced Richard, and Sandy introduced Florence Higgins. Both of the wives had obviously been crying, but Sandy mastered a difficult smile and said to Richard and Janet, “Florence and I had never met before, but we quickly found that we both know the Lord. And so we've been sitting here, talking and praying together for our husbands.”
“There are quite a few people praying with you and for you in the chapel down the hall,” Janet said. “Is it all right if we sit and talk and pray with you?”
“Sure. Certainly. Please,” Florence said, moving her coat to a vacant chair further away so that the four of them could form a small circle.
They talked for the next hour, and both Richard and Janet were frankly amazed by the strength these two women were finding at this almost impossible time in their lives. Both obviously wanted their husbands to live. But both also expressed that their husbands knew the Lord, and that if, God forbid, either one or both of them did pass away that night, they would instantly be in heaven with Christ.
“And you see,” Sandy said to Janet, her eyes filled with tears, “I know someday I will definitely see him again, and we'll spend eternity together, which will make whatever happens tonight, as awful as it may be, seem like only a moment.”
Janet listened and was frankly overwhelmed by what had happened in the last several hours, not to mention the last several weeks. She was particularly awed by the strength and the testimonies of these two women, in whom it was obvious, even to Janet, that the Holy Spirit lived.
A little after midnight, Bill Shaw, Bob Grissom, and Mark Pugh entered the waiting room. Richard, Janet, and the two wives rose to meet them. Bill and Bob had been taken to the police station to make their preliminary statements. When the interrogating officer realized that most of the action was recorded on video tape, he sent a patrol car to the television station to secure a copy of the tape for safekeeping. At that point, Mark also made a statement. Then they went to the hospital, where Bill and Bob were treated for some minor cuts from flying glass. Now they joined the vigil in the waiting room. Everyone knew, without saying so explicitly, that it was not time to talk about the future of “911 Live.” That would come later.
At one in the morning a surgeon joined them and told them that both men were out of surgery, though there was a good chance that both would have to go back within the next few days, if they made it. They were being moved to intensive care for observation and recovery. When asked, he reluctantly estimated that Tom's chances of surviving were about fifty-fifty, while Officer Higgins’ prospects were not as good, due to the number of rounds he had taken. If they survived, both men would be in intensive care for many days. He suggested that all of them, including the men's wives, go home and try to get some sleep, because they could not do much at that point.
There were a few questions, and then the surgeon left. Connie suggested to all of them that they begin a rotating prayer vigil, and Richard was surprised when Janet volunteered for them to take the first watch. One of the other Christians from the station said he would go home, shower, and then come back to relieve the Sullivans in an hour.
The police officer who met them when they arrived at the hospital told Richard the department was already taking care of Mrs. Talmadge and that he would be sure that Sandy Spence and Florence Higgins arrived home safely. Everyone said a sad goodbye and then left for home.
Janet and Richard returned to the now empty chapel. They sat in the front pew, and Janet turned to her husband. “Richard, before we begin praying again for these men and their families, I want you to pray with me. I know now that there must be a God, because only God could have changed you in the way He has in the past few weeks, and only God could give those women the strength they have. I don't understand how things like tonight happen. Maybe someday I will. But I know that He lives in you, the Merediths, and those two women. And I want Him to forgive me for doubting His existence for so long, for raising our children without knowing Him, and for trying to do everything and be everything myself. Richard—” And she took her husband's hand. “I want to be His child, too, like you are. I want to be able to pray to Him for these men as one of His own, like Sandy and Florence. I want to know that we will be together forever, no matter what happens here on earth. What do I do?”
Richard described what he had done with Court Shullo three weeks before. She nodded, and they knelt on the floor in front of the pew. As best he could, holding her hand, Richard led Janet in the same prayer which he had prayed with Court. Janet, broken by the love she had seen in Richard and the strength she had seen in Sandy, gave herself to the Lord early that morning.
Invisible to both of them, yet very real, the Holy Spirit visited the chapel at that moment and filled it with a brilliant glory that paled the beautiful stained glass into insignificance. Janet was touched by His power, and an invisible eternal flame began to burn in her, matching the one in Richard.
As she finished praying, she thought she had cried all that she could in one night, yet there were apparently a few tears still left inside her. She squeezed her husband's hand even tighter, as she felt the cleansing of her entire past taking place in an instant, and she was born again.
They remained kneeling, holding hands, for several more minutes, then Janet looked at Richard, and they smiled and hugged. They bowed their heads and began praying for the two men in intensive care—and for the men who had put them there.