Referendum for Murder

By Mickey Polansky

In Wisconsin, the argument is stringent: should the death penalty be reinstated or is it considered cruel and unusual punishment? Its an issue that incites debate; more so, it is an issue that incites anger, whether citizens are for or against capital punishment. Thomas McCormick is a member of the Wisconsin State Legislature. He has seen firsthand the pros and cons of the death penalty, so does he want it reinstated?

Following a bank robbery and the murder of a policeman, capital punishment advocates go wild. The criminal killed a cop; doesnt the criminal deserve to die? McCormick finds himself involved with the protestors, especially when he meets beautiful Barbara Hernandez, a tenacious crusader out for justice. Tom must decide which side hes on, and he has to decide fast, before things get out of control.

With Barbs help, Tom gets a referendum put before voters that would reinstate the death penalty. Not only are Barb and Toms lives threatened, but a certain political activist will attempt to prevent their success through strong arm tactics and even murder. It isnt the ideal time to fall in love, but Tom cant help his growing feelings for Barb. As they fight for what they believe is right, they must also fight for each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Sep 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458200129

Mickey Polansky

Mickey Polansky is retired. He has always had a long-standing passion for writing. He is married and the father of a son daughter and three granddaughters. For more information about Mickey Polansky, go to www.mickeypolansky.com.

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 Mickey Polansky

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Abbott Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Abbott Press

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.abbottpress.com

Phone: [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4582-0012-9 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-0011-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-0010-5 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011914583

Printed in the United States of America

Abbott Press rev. date: 10/21/2011

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

CHAPTER FIFTY

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

CHAPTER SIXTY

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

CHAPTER SEVENTY

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

CHAPTER EIGHTY

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

CHAPTER ONE

Portland, Oregon April 26, 2006 4:00 p.m.

The alarm clock buzzes in room 221 at the Silver Cloud Inn located on NW Vaughn Street in Portland, Oregon. Jim Jones slowly opens his eyes, trying to recover from a mostly sleepless six hours in bed. After shutting off the alarm, he lies in bed for a few brief moments. He begins rubbing his blood-shot blue eyes while staring at a picture on the wall which exhibits the Oregon Pacific coast. Eventually, he sits up in bed and brushes back his long blond hair with his fingers. His pudgy nose begins to breathe in the cigarette smell from the previous night. When Jim finally hauls his bulky frame out of bed, he lights up another one while walking over to the oval mirror. He sees a man that looks like hell. A straggly beard, long dirty blonde hair, and nicotine stained teeth. He didn’t always look this way. It was only in the last five years that his looks deteriorated. He expects that to change after today, Jim thinks. For the moment though, he needs to be more concerned about what’s happening tonight. Jim, has many times, thought about the plan, but could never carry it out. He was sent to prison for five years for torching a surgical clinic that was performing abortions. Now that he’s out, he can carry out these plans, he figures, provided he’s not caught. He knows that when he leaves the inn, he’s to drive approximately one mile. Jim goes over his mind of what he’ll do. He’ll arrive at his intended destination which is a parking garage and drive to the top floor. Here he’ll set up the equipment and wait for the moment when he’ll make a statement that will rock Portland and the medical community.

After Jim puts on his white Levi shirt, he gets down on his knees and grabs the large leather case that’s under the bed. When he stands, he places the case on the bed and opens it to look at its contents. While his eyes review the contents, Jim begins to cough because of that damn cigarette. After recovering, he makes a final review. He now begins to dress. He puts on a pair of black Levi pants, buttons his white Levi shirt, slips on his brown western boots, tops it off with a black leather jacket, grabs his Air Force sunglasses and finally places a black cowboy hat on his head. He feels his body tensing up. He heads swiftly for the door. He’s now ready for action. When he steps outside his room, he sees a USA newspaper on the floor. He grabs it, proceeds outside where the sun is bright and goes to his vehicle. He scurries out of the hotel parking lot heading south on NW Twenty-Fifth Avenue. Within five minutes, Jim arrives at his destination and enters a four story parking garage. He heads for the top floor and, after arriving at his desired parking spot, turns off the engine. He has over an hour before he meets the doctor from the Women’s Surgical Clinic. He lays his head on the headrest and begins to think about why he is here. As he reflects, he begins squirming in his seat showing impatience for the hour he has to wait.

He recollects his childhood days in Milwaukee. He was born out of wedlock in 1964. His mother, Jenny Jones took care of him but his father Carl Andrews wasn’t around a lot to assist in raising his son. Then the Vietnam War erupted and his father was drafted. Carl only served two years because his right leg was blown off and thus, he had a free ticket to return back to Milwaukee. He found that when he returned, the people of America were not very appreciative of Vietnam veterans. As a result, Carl had a chip on his shoulder. He was missing a leg, Americans hated him and he himself hated that war. To top this off, Jenny hooked up with another pothead and left Carl. So then it was just Carl and his son, Jim.

Sometime in 1972, when Jim was eight years old, his father, who had scraggly long hair and a full beard, which represented the hippie generation, took his son to downtown Milwaukee. Carl had used a crutch to get around and Jim walked alongside him. When the two arrived at the intersection of Water and East Wisconsin Avenue at noon, Jim recalled his father telling him to sit on the curb. It was a crowded intersection with people just standing around. Then Carl disappeared and Jim became worried, which would be common for an eight year old. The worry didn’t last long; hundreds of protestors were marching west on Wisconsin Avenue. Jim saw his dad amongst the protestors and noticed they were smoking pot while marching against the Vietnam War. Even though it was illegal to smoke pot, the protestors were up to the challenge if the police moved in. But, as it turned out, no one was arrested.

Then, in the spring of 1982, when Jim was eighteen, he came home after work one day and found his father dead from a drug overdose. Jim, at the time, felt this was the best thing to happen to his father because of all that hate that was built up from the time he was drafted. Jim followed in his father’s footsteps but in a very different way. He was against wars that the United States participated in. Although his father basically protested the Vietnam War, it went further with Jim. He protested any wars that America engaged in. He also was against the death penalty. He hung around prisons where executions were to be carried out and protested those events. Finally he took up the pro-life cause. During the 1980’s, Jim Jones was found at abortion clinics in Milwaukee. He was observed blocking the entrances to these clinics. Police, through force, removed him from these clinics. Jim’s position was the world was an impossibly tough place and the only way to get what he wanted was to be powerful and force his will on others. He knows he’s confrontational, bull-headed, and also persistent. It’s my way or no way.

Eventually, Jim went to Portland, Oregon because he found that abortions were on the upswing in this area. His opportunity to serve the cause was short-lived although. He torched a clinic in Portland, was arrested and charged with arson. Today, he finds himself in this particular parking garage on the fourth floor rooftop, ready to carry out his mission. The time when he will be making a statement is drawing near. He has been on this rooftop several times in the past few days to observe the Women’s Surgical Clinic and to identify the time the doctor leaves. Jim must now make preparations. He lights up a cigarette and then goes to the car trunk and removes the large leather case. While the cigarette hangs from his lips, he lays the leather case on the cement ground and unzips it, removing the contents. It’s a M-86 sniper rifle, which the army uses for it’s war efforts. It fires .50 caliber shells and can kill a man riding in an armored vehicle. Jim wants this weapon to make the perfect statement and the moment is approaching quickly. As he looks at his watch, he begins to see personnel leaving the clinic and finally he knows the doctor will be leaving soon. Everyone in the medical community knows this doctor as George Adams. To Jim, this doctor is a murderer. He has killed hundreds of fetuses here in Portland and it has to stop now. He now has his weapon set up. It’s equipped with a silencer, a night vision scope and a Glock tactical laser. It’s becoming dark outside but that’s okay with Jim. The night vision scope will help his cause. He removes his cowboy hat; drops his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and begins to aim his deadly rifle in the direction of the front door of the clinic. He needs to be patient for the moment while waiting for the doctor. When Jim’s mission is accomplished, he’ll feel that future fetuses will be saved from this murderer who thinks he can slow down the population of Portland, Oregon.

Finally, the front door opens once again, allowing the supposedly last person to leave the clinic. Jim isn’t sure if it’s the doctor. He now steadies his aim and peers through the sniper scope. It’s his victim. Jim has the doctor in his sights. He slowly takes a deep breath as he squeezes the trigger. Instantly, Jim sees the doctor’s head snap back as the bullet strikes with vicious force. He observes that the body isn’t moving. As a result, Jim feels his plan has been accomplished. He now needs to cover his tracks. He will leave the casing that was ejected on the ground. However, he will file the casing so it can’t be tracked through forensics. He next takes a round file and files the inside of the barrel so that all marks within the barrel will be gone. Jim must leave Portland and never return. He places the rifle in the trunk of the car and leaves the rooftop of the parking facility with the car lights off. He realizes that there are video cameras observing movements within this garage. When the direction of the shot is discovered, the videos will be reviewed and it will show Jim Jones as the sniper. Mission accomplished.

CHAPTER TWO

Portland, Oregon April 27, 6:05a.m.

The Portland police are on the scene at the Woman’s Surgical Clinic after a 911 call came in that a body was discovered in the parking lot. While the Portland Police are walking around, surveying the crime scene looking for clues, a police detective, John Lakeland, begins interviewing Jeff Newman, a security guard who made the call.

Mr. Newman, do you think you can identify the dead man, says the detective in a low tone of voice. He’s dressed in blue jean’s, a gray sweatshirt and a three days growth of beard. He looks like he just got out of bed. After Jeff, who appears a little nervous, agrees in identifying the body, John Lakeland escorts him to the horrible scene. The victim’s lying on the black asphalt payment surrounded by a pool of his own blood. A sheet is covering the body. Jeff stoops down and gently removes the sheet to get a good look and recognizes the face.

I recognize the victim as Dr. George Adams, says Jeff. There’s silence as John Lakeland jots the name in his spiral notebook. Detective Lakeland looks up from his notebook and asks what kind of medical procedures did Dr. Adams perform. Jeff mentions the doctor performed abortions. After getting this needed information for his investigation, John shakes Jeff’s hand vigorously, and indicates he’s through with him for the moment but mentions he might be needed for more questioning. He instructs the guard to keep all personnel from entering the clinic until further notice.

John orders the remains to be left in place. Once the medical examiner makes an analysis of the cause of death, the remains can be removed. At 6:15a.m.,the chief medical examiner, Doctor Andrew Portis for the Portland area arrives. John Lakeland and Andrew Portis know each other. They’ve worked on other cases together. Portis, who’s wearing a blue suit and black-rim glasses, faces the shabby detective who’s hair is a mess from the wind blowing it around.

This is a bad one doc, says John as they both shake hands. John’s facial expression tells it all. He feels there may be a maniac out there someplace. Andrew Portis walks over to the body, bends over, and lifts up the sheet to view the remains. He notices the victim’s lying on his back.

I see what you mean by a bad one, replies Portis.

The doctor asks John if the body was touched or moved during the investigation or prior to the investigation. John Lakeland indicates that to his knowledge, the body wasn’t tampered with. He also states that a security guard, made the discovery.

Well John, from all indications, based on the size of the wound in his chest, it had to be a large caliber bullet.

The doctor and the detective face each other and there’s silence for the moment as they stare at each other.

Andy, evidence says we have to look at the distance factor. Close range wouldn’t have caused such extensive damage to this victim.

Doctor Portis nods his head, I agree with you John. Give me a hand here in turning this poor guy over; I want to see the exit wound.

When the victim is turned over, they both see the bullet had exited around the waist area.

Okay John, replies Doctor Portis, since the bullet did enter the chest area and exited at the waist area, what’s your take on this?

"Simple doctor, the bullet had a downward trajectory from the barrel to the victim. I would figure this was a high powered rifle that caused this. Also, whoever did this, shot from a long distance while also shooting from perhaps some building that was four to five stories high.

That makes sense, Dr. Portis says.

You know doctor, if it’s a high-powered rifle that did this, then there should be some bullet fragments embedded in the brick of the surgical building.

The detective excuses himself and walks four feet to the building and asks one of the officer’s on the scene if anything noteworthy was found. The officer explains that they’re still combing the scene but did find a broken window to the right of the doorway. John looks at the window, then at the sheet-covered victim. Finally he looks south and sees the various buildings where a sniper could have taken position for this horrific kill. John Lakeland’s zeroing in on this killing like a hawk looking for its prey.

Lakeland is a perfectionist with a very definite sense of right and wrong. He’s very principled, moralistic, and he only sees things in black and white.

John walks back over to Andrew Portis. If your investigation is completed doctor, you may remove the victim.

The detective zooms in on the crowd that has converged on this homicide scene and spots the security guard, Jeff Newman. He motions to Jeff to come over.

More questions detective? Jeff asks as he approaches the detective showing an eagerness to assist in any way possible.

Yea, just one question. Do you know anything about that broken window? he asks while walking with Jeff over to the building.

Jeff looks at the broken window with a frown on his face while rubbing his nose. I’m quite sure that window wasn’t broken yesterday, detective. I would’ve been made aware of it immediately.

John asks Jeff to unlock the clinic. After they both walk inside, Detective Lakeland asks if there’s video surveillance inside and outside the premises. Jeff indicates there is and that he would be glad to direct the detective to the monitoring room.

John just isn’t ready to see the monitoring room yet. He wants to put his investigative experience to work instead. He’s beginning to sniff like a bloodhound. He needs to arrive at a conclusion on how this man actually died. If the assumption was of a downward trajectory of the bullet, and if the window from the clinic was shattered by this bullet, then fragments should be found inside the clinic. The detective begins glancing at the wall that is eight feet from the shattered window. He’s trying to locate any bullet fragments or perhaps a bullet hole in the wall.

Detective, is there something I can help you with? asks the curious security guard as he notices John looking at the lower portion of the wall. When Detective Lakeland explains what he’s looking for, the security guard walks toward the detective and stops abruptly.

Is this what you’re looking for, detective? asks Jeff as he points to a hole in the wall that’s near the baseboard.

Lakeland’s wide eyes stare hard at the discovery while showing a smile.

Damn it Mr. Newman, you sure know how to make a cop’s day. There’s a pause as he looks at the hole. Let’s hope this is the evidence I’ve been looking for.

Detective Lakeland now begins to survey the situation. He looks out the shattered window and sees three buildings in the distance. Directly across the street is a single-floor building with a flat roof. The building covers one square block. The detective feels there is no way the sniper could have taken his victim out from that particular roof top. There is no concealment for the sniper; it’s too close to do the damage that was inflicted on this victim. The distance factor is only about fifty yards. One block further south is another building that also is a single-story building. Again coverage for the sniper was non-existent. The third building which is three blocks away, John Lakeland feels, has potential. It’s four stories high and John notices it appears to be a parking garage. He decides to take a drive over there and look around.

Lakeland arrives at the garage and shows his badge to the garage attendant who then allows the detective to enter. John goes to the top floor and drives to the area that faces north. From four stories up, the surgical clinic is in plain view. He gets out of his car and stands facing the clinic. The cool breezes of the morning chills the detective briefly creating goose bumps on his arms. He rubs his arms for warmth while thinking to himself that this could be a very good area for a sniper to take his victim out. He starts looking on the ground for anything that possibly could have been left by the sniper. He sees a cigarette butt and picks it up carefully and places it in a zip lock bag for DNA evidence. About four feet from where the butt was located, he sees something shiny. He walks over to the article on the ground and his heart starts pounding. It’s a shell casing. He grabs his pen and scoops the casing up and places this piece of evidence in another zip lock bag. For the moment, his investigation’s through. He just might have enough evidence from the butt and the casing. He thinks to himself if all investigations would go as smoothly as this, all the crooks would be off the street in a flash.

He drives back to the ground floor of the garage and approaches the garage attendant again. He asks to borrow the garage surveillance tapes of yesterday. When the tapes are handed over, the detective drives back to the surgical clinic. The police are still investigating and he notices the victim’s remains have been taken away. The blood, though, is still there.

While surveying the crime area, he feels a tap on his right shoulder. He turns around and Chief Alex Coben of the Portland Metro is standing there waiting for any information on this case. The chief’s a tower of a man standing at six feet six inches tall and built like a brick wall. Any crook would think twice about taking on this man.

John, what have you dug up? the chief says while looking at John with a serious look. The detective can see by the chief’s expression that he wants this case wrapped up fast.

Well chief, this is what I found. He points to the garage facility where he believed the sniper took its position. He shows the evidence he recovered from the scene.

The chief’s eyes grow wide, Damn John, that’s a fifty caliper shell casing. Why the hell did the sniper have to use that type of ammo?

I would think the person wanted to send a very large message to the medical community.

You might have a point, the chief pauses, but we’ll have to dig deep in finding out who did this or else we’ll be running short of doctors.

John indicates to the chief that he has the VCR tape of the surveillance of the garage from last night.

John, get back to the office and review those tapes. He now has anger within his voice. I want this son of a bitch off the streets now.

When John gets into his car, he observes the chief being bombarded by news reporters. Chief Coben, WPOR Channel Five News. What can you tell us about what happened here

All, I can tell you, the chief says as he clears his throat, we’ll be working non-stop until we make an arrest. At this time, I don’t want to give any details that might jeopardize our investigation. With that in mind, no further comments.

Exhibiting superiority, Chief Coben, holding his head high, is rushed out of the area by his lieutenants. John Lakeland observes all this commotion as he drives off. When he gets back to his desk, he calls forensics to check the cigarette butt for DNA evidence. He also wants them to review the VCR tape with him to zero in on a likely suspect. Within two hours, they are quite sure who they are dealing with. They identify one person in the garage leaving around 6:05 p.m. yesterday. They identify the license plates as TU9955. After investigating this car, they find that the car with those plates was stolen about two weeks ago. That’s a no brainer, John thinks as he scratches his head. Through criminal photos on record, the driver of that car shown on the VCR tape is identified as a Jim Jones. They find that he was released from prison in Oregon recently for torching an abortion clinic. Now he’s out and this happens.

Portland, Oregon April 30, 2006 11:35a.m.

It’s been four days since the brutal murder. No press release will be given until the car is located that was identified leaving the garage with Jim Jones as the driver.

Then it happens. At 11:36 a.m., a call comes in to the Portland police that the car with those plates was found at the Greyhound bus station located at 550 NW Sixth Avenue, Portland. Any officer with any investigative interest in this case, is directed to leave for that location. John Lakeland is amongst the group. His car tires squeal and his siren blares as he makes neck breaking turns. He wants to be the first to arrive to prevent the police from screwing up this case. He knows that sometimes the police get over zealous. He wants the forensic team to have that car first. They need to lift fingerprints and gather any evidence. He’s the first to arrive. Police from all directions converge. Bystanders watch as the police do their investigative work. When the police open the trunk, there’s the decisive evidence they are looking for. The sniper weapon in its leather case was left behind. When they review the contents of the inside of the car, they find only one thing, a USA newspaper. A news article was circled in pen. It reads: The Wisconsin State Legislators have passed a resolution to place an advisory referendum on the November 2006 ballot asking whether the Wisconsin voters want the death penalty reinstated.

John Lakeland heads back to his office. As he sits down at his desk, John is puzzled by the evidence accumulated. His eyes are rolled up along with a frown. The shell casing, the cigarette butt, for which he’s still waiting for DNA results, the gun being left in the car; and then there’s the USA newspaper. Lakeland begins to think that Jim Jones is playing games with the authorities. He concludes that this guy wanted us to find this evidence including the newspaper. What is Jim Jones up to, Lakeland wonders to himself as he sits in his chair staring into space.

The detective decides to review Jim Jones police record for any tips. He discovers through investigative reports that this guy is anti-abortion. John remembers the doctor, that Jim murdered, had carried out numerous abortions in the Portland area. Also he discovers that Jim is against any war that the United States engages in.

Then, a wide-eyed, stone-still detective makes a startling discovery. Jim Jones is against the death penalty. John Lakeland remembers the USA newspaper found in the car. He now has a hunch where Mr. Jones is headed for.

CHAPTER THREE

New Berlin, Wisconsin May 1, 11:05a.m.

Good morning, how can I help you? Barbara Hernandez says with a mild-mannered voice as she exhibits eye contact with her next banking customer, who’s a young, attractive woman.

Place all the money from your drawer in this paper bag and make it quick, the woman quietly says as she stares hard at Barb. The bank teller’s eyebrows raise rapidly as she’s taken by surprise. This is the first time Barb is facing a bank robber. She can feel her heart pounding. She’s been trained for this, but never expected to face a bank robber, until today of course. Dazed, Barb’s knees lock in fear. If she makes a sudden move, this robber might take drastic action. The woman brings her around quickly.

Hey bitch, she says with a snarl while staring at Barb, is there a problem? Cooperate with me and you won’t get hurt. Oh, and by the way, don’t alert the police or you’re dead. I have two accomplices watching every move you make.

Barb tries to remain calm, although she feels the hairs on the back of her neck beginning to stand up. In an attempt to recall training sessions when a robbery occurs, Barb sizes up the woman who has straggly long brunette hair. Barb’s notion is that perhaps it’s a wig.

She tries to absorb as much information as possible to give a profile to the police when they question her. Even her husband, Charlie, helped her through the techniques if such as event arises. Well, Barb thinks, that moment’s staring me in the face. She knows she needs to take matters very seriously but still remain as calm as possible since she is six months pregnant and has to be concerned about her baby.

What do you want, large or small bills? asks Barb while forcing a smile.

The woman’s eyes grow large and her face becomes red as she commands Barb to place all the money in the bag now. Swearing spews like hot lava from the women’s mouth. Her words push Barb to shove bills in the bag even faster. Getting this woman pissing and moaning is unacceptable. She does what she’s told except for one minor detail. While staring at this irate bank robber with a slight smile, she taps her foot on the silent alarm button that tips off the New Berlin, Wisconsin Police Department. She understands she violated the woman’s orders but Barb is a risk-taker. She risks a glance around the bank to see who the two accomplices are that this woman alluded to. She sees one man, well-dressed, filling out a deposit slip. She focuses on a man in jeans and a black tee shirt chatting with a bald man, also wearing jeans and a black tee shirt, and sports a tattoo which she can’t identify on his right arm. Finally, the only other customer in the bank is a man, well dressed, wearing glasses and slightly bald who is conducting business with Tracy Goodwin, a second bank teller. From time to time, he glances around the bank. She concludes the two guys in jeans are the woman’s accomplices.

Come on woman, move faster, the holdup woman says with a hissy voice. Barb can see perspiration on the woman’s face. She knows the woman’s hyped and it wouldn’t take much to set her off. She notices a revolver of some sort in the waistband of the woman’s tight jeans. As Barb finishes filling the paper bag, she detects an obscure figure entering the rear of the bank.

Then it happens. Everyone hit the floor, shouts someone in the rear of the bank. Barb starts screaming as she ducks down below her teller window positioning herself under the counter. That sick feeling of uncertainly is looming over her head with danger around the corner. She begins to speculate what’s going to happen next. It doesn’t take long to find that out. Barb hears a gunshot! Another shot, only this time it appears to be coming from the rear of the bank… . and then there’s deadly silence. She can hear someone plunge to the floor. Is it one of the holdup people or an innocent by-stander?

The woman standing in front of Barb’s window yells You damn son-of-a-bitch. She gets off a round from her weapon. Barb hears another gun shot coming from the rear of the bank. Abruptly, the woman slumps over Barb’s counter. Her arms are dangling down no more then twelve inches from Barb. Blood flows from her mouth and several drops land on Barb’s maternity outfit. The pistol’s still in the dead woman’s lifeless hand. Barb feels she needs to get this gun. Snatching the weapon, she removes the woman’s glasses. She sees the eyes wide open and sightless in that horrible look of death. She was a gorgeous woman, thinks Barb. Why in the world would this woman hang around with two-bit losers?

Barb thinks, I have the gun, now what? She’s trembling so hard she scarcely can make her brain function. Will I make it through all this? I have so much to live for; a wonderful husband and lover and the anticipation of a baby in three months. I must endure this but at what risk.

She recalls there are two men plus the woman. One is slumped over her counter and one perhaps dead on the floor. That leaves one still lurking in the bank. She decides to ease herself up to look at the devastation.

Outside the bank, squad cars with sirens on, squeal to a halt. Officers, with guns drawn, prepare to take action as they position themselves behind their vehicles.

Captain Matthew Mahoney, who is tall, muscular, and shots of grey mixed in his black hair begins to shout, block this street off at both ends.

While he is barking out commands, a middle age man approaches him. He asks if he can assist in some manner.

Who the hell are you mister; this is a police action, yells Mahoney shaking his head from side to side. He doesn’t need spectators screwing up his operation. The tall, average built