Interview with Brad O’Shay, Pine Tavern, October 9, 2010

From Flight Risk: The Robert Jackson Kelley Story

“Before that night, Rob Kelley was a drunk, an obnoxious one who’d get himself fired from shitty job after shitty job and try to tell you he was Batman after he’d had a few. But he was harmless. There were about a dozen other guys on this island just like him, warming seats in this tavern every night. I never thought that son of a bitch would cost me my job. Cost somebody his life. You talk to James Holt about any of this?

“He won’t talk? Doesn’t really surprise me.

“That night, Rob’s practically falling off his stool, and he starts talking about the Gulf War. Barely making any sense. Going on and on. I’m off duty, technically, but around here the sheriff’s shift never really ends. I have the cruiser. Usually do. I try to shut Rob up. Tell him to go home, get some sleep. Eat something. Of course he doesn’t listen. Never did.

“Gets to be the time of night that Rob retires to the drunk tank. But he doesn’t want to go quietly this time. We scuffle a little bit. Nothing major. He can’t hit the broad side of a barn at this point, but he’s nothing if not persistent. So we tangle. But my keys are sitting by my beer, and damn if he doesn’t grab them. He’s grinnin’, ornery, so pleased with himself. He runs off and hops in my cruiser. There are people who’d say I should have shot him right then. But that’s not how the law works. I gotta call in for backup. By the time they show up, Rob Kelley is gone.

“Took all my men, plus SWAT from Seattle, to finally get him. Snipers were leaning out the windows of the high school gym. After all, the man was a wanted murderer.

“After three days in those woods, his fingertips were black. Broken nose, too. I heard he lost two toes. And still he tried to run. But we were ready for him. Tased him.

“Can’t run forever. Like father, like son.”