Just Another One (by Shane)
Shane - Denied psychiatric medication by ValueOptions, Shane turned to illegal drugs financed by burglaries. For stealing a few hundred dollars worth of goods, he was sentenced by Judge Ron Reinstein to eleven years. Shane is the author of the blog Persevering Prison Pages.
It was November 1999. The citizens of Phoenix were in a panic. Murders were on the rise, and the “Sonic’s Bandits” had a body count of at least 7.
The Sonic’s Bandits – two cousins armed with high-power semi-auto handguns – had been on a murderous rampage, robbing and shooting people at Sonic’s fast-food restaurants, an AutoZone, and various other businesses.
Seconds after the “hot-call” tone broadcast on the South Mountain Precinct police channel, the call went out: “Subject with a gun. Family barbeque restaurant, 23rd Street and Broadway. Suspect is a black male. Blue jeans. North Carolina hoody.”
An officer happened to be passing the restaurant: “Four-thirty-one-frank, I’m 23 on the location.” He parked next to the restaurant. Approaching the restaurant, the officer spotted the suspect standing at the counter looking up at the menu. Entering the building, the officer thought, Probably just another citizen calling 9-1-1 out of fear of the Sonic’s Bandits.
The suspect coolly glanced over at the uniformed officer. “What’s up,” he said, and went back to looking at the menu.
“What’s up,” the officer responded, approaching the man. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
The man put his hand in his right front pants’ pocket. “Sure, what’s up?”
“Sir, get your hand out of your pocket, put your hands on your head and interlace your fingers.”
The man complied.
“Sir, do you have any weapons, guns, knives or grenades on you?” The officer began to frisk the suspect.
Another officer entered the restaurant behind the man.
The first officer felt a pistol in the man’s pocket. “Gun!”
The man broke free, spun around and elbowed the officer in the face, breaking the officer’s nose. Reaching into his pocket, he tried to pull the gun. The second officer grabbed the man’s hand, trapping it inside the pocket. The first officer swung viciously, hitting the suspect in the face and head in order to disable the threat.
The suspect was unfazed by the blows, and continued to hit both cops repeatedly with powerful punches.
Breaking away from the fight, the first cop drew his sidearm from three feet away. “Nine-oh-one-george,” he yelled, expecting the second officer to recognize the radio code for a shooting and to stand clear. His training had kicked in and he wanted to neutralise the threat with a close proximity headshot.
But the second cop remained in the line of fire.
The first holstered his gun, and radioed, “Nine-oh-seven!” in a panic, the code for “Officer needs immediate assistance,” and jumped back into the fight.
After a knock-down drag-out three-minute fight, several other officers arrived and helped subdue the man.
After searching the man, and finding a second gun in his waistband, the first officer was putting him in his patrol car when the man told him something that he’ll never forget.
In a calm matter-of-fact tone that sent chills down the spine, the man said, “You should be pleased with yourself. You just got one of the Sonic’s Bandits.”
Still unsure, the officer said, “Yeah, right. What’s your problem?”
“Officer, when you walked in the door I was about to shoot you in the head. I’ve killed so many people. I’ve capped my family a few days ago even. You should be dead right now.” The man described how he had murdered his mother and brother.
The officer had been on the scene of those murders just days earlier. He now knew that the man was a Sonic’s Bandit, and that he had cheated death once again.
The officer in this true story is a friend of mine, who, years later, would sadly become addicted to prescription pills and get sent to prison for forgery and obtaining narcotics by fraud. His 11½ year career and military service in Iraq as an army medic with 2 Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star didn’t matter when he was sentenced to 2 years in prison. Drug addiction sees no race, sex, color, creed… or occupation.
Click here for Shane’s own blog
Click here for the first blog about Shane at Jon's Jail Journal
Some of Shane's prison stories:
What Comes Around
Fighting For No Good Reason
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