Flowers for All Occasions

Just then, more smoke erupted from the sedan as the shooter blew out the back windshield of the sedan and was now actively shooting at us.

"Billy! If you grab that Persuader and stick it out the window, can you fire it?"

"Damned right I can!"

"Good! Give 'em something to at least think about! I'm gonna gun the accelerator while he's changing magazines!"

I was weaving all over the road. We were about a quarter-mile behind the sedan. One thing about firing an automatic rifle is a phenomenon known as "climb". The longer you fire an automatic weapon on full auto, the front barrel tends to move upwards due to the constant recoil. It is extremely difficult to accurately aim a fully-automatic weapon unless it is mounted to something solid, like a tripod with a fixed traversing and elevation mechanism. The T&E device, used on machine guns, keeps the automatic weapon firing in specific horizontal and vertical planes to keep the rounds shooting in a specific area. As such, the rounds from the AK were not accurate and were pretty much all flying overhead, with the exception of one or two rounds that hit my light bar.

The form in the backseat stopped shooting after two separate and distinct shooting bursts. I floored the accelerator and quickly caught up and held a distance of about 30 to 40 feet behind the sedan. Just as the subject in the back seat popped up to start shooting, Billy let loose with the big semi-automatic 12-gauge and fired six rapid blasts of .00 buckshot - peppering the back of the sedan and causing the trunk lid to pop open, obscuring the vision of the shooter in the back seat.

"Yeah, bitch! That's right, you little cocksucker! Run away, you fucking pussy! Woooo-hoooooo!" Billy shrieked as he slammed fresh shells into the shotgun.

That must have caught their attention because the E-Class started rapidly accelerating again. Soon, we were hitting speeds of 120 mph. Fortunately, Y-29 was fairly straight as it headed past large farms and sheep and cattle ranches.

"17-01, this is State Patrol 35! I've got the sticks out on the east side of the intersection of T-40!

"Good copy, 35! We're about 3 miles out!"

Most people have the impression that stop sticks are just a line of spikes that law enforcement put out to try and get someone to run over. However, each spike is also covered by a plastic tube that then lodges in the tire and keeps the hole wide open, which even defeats most types of run-flat tires.

I could see the flashing lights of Trooper 35's cruiser up ahead. His vehicle pretty much blocked the entire westbound lane of Y-29. With steep ditches on either side of the roadway and barely any shoulder to the old road, the Mercedes would only have one way to go and wouldn't be able to avoid the sticks without putting the sedan in the ditch. If he hugged the far left lane, he might be able to avoid blowing out all four tires but he would still be running on the rims of the right side wheels.

We were trailing by about a quarter mile when they got to the intersection. We could clearly see Trooper 35, whose name was Marv Rockney, with his gun drawn and using his cruiser as a shield. The driver of the sedan obviously realized he was about to run over the stop sticks and slowed down dramatically but too late as he swerved to the left to try and avoid them. Sparks flew as the two right side tires caught the sticks and blew out.

But the shooter in the back seat unleashed a heavy volley of automatic weapon fire, shredding into the state patrol cruiser and causing Trooper Rockney to fall over backwards into the ditch. Trooper Rockney would be unable to pull the sticks before we got there and so we had to stop and get them out of the way.

As we did so we heard him scream on the radio, "This is 35! I've been hit! I've been hit! Officer down!"

Billy jumped out of the Expedition to take care of the sticks as Brian Kelley pulled up behind us. Trooper 83 jumped out of Brian's vehicle and ran down the ditch to aid Trooper Rockney and Trooper 95 pulled his vehicle over and grabbed a medical aid kit before he, too, ran down to assist the fallen officer. All police, deputies and State Troopers are required to be certified First Responders in this state.

"Dispatch, 17-01! We have an officer down at the intersection of Y-29 and T-40! Roll EMS and launch Eagle Star to the scene immediately!"

"10-4, 17-01. We'll be paging Martindale Fire, Red River Falls Fire Department and Eagle Star."

Billy jumped back in and I floored it again to catch up to the wounded sedan.

"17-10, this is 17-01! Hold fast near the intersection of 29 and T-15! Establish a block! They're coming right for you! They hit the stop sticks and are running on two wheels!"

"10-4, Pat! We're a ways east of there already, but we'll hold our position!"

Brian Kelley, Ben Villanueva and Chad Goodburn continued to follow us. Suddenly, the last of the rubber of both tires on the black sedan flew off and the sedan was now riding a wave of sparks coming from the bare rim on the asphalt. The steering was obviously becoming more and more difficult and the driver was desperately trying to keep the sedan going straight but he was steadily losing the fight.

To my horror, there was a large John Deere tractor towing a large farm implement and starting to pull out of a field and onto the roadway. He realized too late that the chase was in progress and probably hadn't heard the message. He stopped dead in the driveway with the nose of the tractor sticking part way out into the westbound lane. The driver of the sedan over corrected trying to go around the tractor, causing it to swerve wildly before making contact with the gravel shoulder of the roadway and striking and knocking over a road sign. His bare rims were stuck in the soft shoulder of the road and he had no traction to get out.

As I drove around the nose of the tractor myself, the driver was just getting out of the Mercedes and the second shooter was scrambling out of the vehicle on the passenger side. The driver, positioned between his open door and the vehicle, leveled his own AK-variant assault weapon and loosed a burst of automatic fire point blank. My windshield clouded over from the multiple impacts and I lost site of the shooter.

I punched the accelerator once again, knowing I was pointed directly at the vehicle and immediately brought the Expo up to full speed and T-boned the big Ford violently into the side of the Mercedes, driving it forward a good 25 to 30 feet across a second driveway and nearly into the ditch. I didn't stop pushing until I had slammed the Expo and Mercedes into a large tree by the entrance to the field. There was a massive "BANG!" as my airbag simultaneously deployed but, somehow, the passenger side bag failed to activate. I was stunned by the airbag and momentarily lost track of my senses.

Billy immediately bailed out of the Expedition, with his Glock drawn, as Brian Kelley pulled around to the left and slammed the brakes in front of the pulverized Mercedes. Billy headed down into the ditch while Brian exited from his side and moved forward, tactically, with his Glock in front of him. The impact of the crash had flung the backseat shooter forward and down the side of the grassy embankment. He was stunned but not critically injured.

The shooter immediately grabbed his nearby AK-47. As he tried to figure out who to shoot at first, both Brian Kelly and Billy Shoemaker let loose an intense, rapid fire barrage of .40 caliber rounds. The shooter, who turned out to be Muchtada Walad-Hammadi, was dead before he even hit the ground. Of the 30 shots Brian and Billy had fired in less than 5 seconds, 21 had found their mark and turned Muchtada's head and torso into bloody Swiss cheese. The shooter had fallen backwards against the steep ditch embankment and almost appeared to be standing - except for the fact that he was dead. No wonder so many of Brian and Billy's bullets were on target.

"Pat! Pat! Are you alright?" Ben Villanueva had arrived and threw open the door to the Expedition. I fumbled with the seatbelt and struggled to get the cobwebs from the airbag explosion out of my head.

I stumbled out and regained my shaky footing. "Yeah, Ben. I'm okay, I'm okay."

"I called for additional ambulances from Royal Fork and wherever we can get 'em. Danny and Trooper 67 are headed this way. Trooper Rockney is hurt really bad, too. They're setting up for the helicopter, which will be there in about 5 to 10 minutes."

"Okay, sounds good," I said, still trying to get my bearings.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Ben whispered in horror. "Look."

The front of the Expedition had only slightly crumpled from the impact, as it was designed to, due to the large combination grill protector/push bumper. But it had penetrated and become entangled in the side doors of the Mercedes.

And sandwiched between the Expedition and the Mercedes...was Ibrahim Walad-Hammadi. The bumper had caught him waist-high. His body, too, was enmeshed amongst the twisted metal of the Mercedes and the Expedition. But, morbidly, he was still alive. Somehow, the pressure of being pinched between the two vehicles was enough to keep blood flowing to his vital organs...for now. If the two vehicles were separated, he would surely die within seconds.

I walked slowly to the front as Ben and Chad kept their guns drawn on Ibrahim. The weapon he had been firing at me had been thrown a good 30 feet when I slammed into him. The side of his abdomen had ruptured and a good portion of his intestines had fallen out. But beyond that, there was very little blood. Most likely, the abdominal portion of his aorta and vena cava were completely pinched off.

"Ambulances are on their way," I said softly, "but I think you probably know that you're not gonna make it. Even if you're still alive when they get here, you're probably not gonna survive getting you untangled."

"That...is fine...with me...Sheriff," Hammadi struggled. "Although...I'm sure...it gives you...some satisfaction...knowing you took...my life."

"No. No, it does not. I'm going to be wondering why this happened for years to come."

"It...happened...because it was...God's will."

"You expect me to believe God wanted you to do what you did? Especially to your own sister?"

"It was...for her own...good." He was struggling to breathe.

"How can what you did to her possibly be for her own good?"

"She was...corrupted...by this culture...by Tristan. She was...no longer...my sister. This place...had turned her...into a whore. She...looked like...a whore...she dressed...like a whore...she smelled like a whore...she acted...like a whore. She...turned away...from her faith...from her family. She deserved...to die...like a whore."

"So you murdered your sister and her fiancé because of the way she dressed and because of the man she fell in love with?"

"He...was not...her fiancé. He...never...asked for...her hand. My father...would...never...have given it...to an...infidel."

"Was it worth it? Are you happy with the fact that taking their lives is going to cost you yours? It already cost your brother his life. He's lying dead in the ditch behind you."

"My brother...has died...firm in...his faith. I...will meet him...in paradise."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes...I'm sure. My...soul...is prepared."

"Well, it won't be much longer now."

"I shall...welcome death...when it..." He never finished. His head flopped down and his torso fell forward, resting on the hood of the Expedition. His eyes were still open but quickly glazed over. I couldn't help but stare as I watched the color and the life drain from Ibrahim's body.

"What a waste," I said as Ben led me away. "What a fucking waste."

"Hey, Pat," Danny Larson said. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little stunned from the crash and the airbag blowing up in my face. Anybody got any word on Trooper Rockney?"

"Yeah, Eagle Star just picked him up and took him in to Holy Family. Sounds like the other two Troopers got most of the bleeding stopped. He took a couple rounds in each arm and got peppered in the legs real bad. But they got tourniquets on quick. His vest did the rest."

"Thank God. Let's hope he makes it. Two funerals are going to be bad enough."

"You got that right," Ben agreed.

*****

The Bureau of Criminal Investigation, or BCI, was on scene within two hours. They had sent multiple units to investigate due to the presence of three separate crime scenes that they had to process. Nearly every investigator, forensics analyst, and a whole host of other personnel from BCI were called in to assist, given the enormity of the crimes that had been committed. Agents from the FBI and ATF in Minneapolis were reportedly en route and would be on scene within the hour.

I stayed on scene long enough to answer questions from about five separate investigators, which I thought was overly excessive. Finally, about 20:00 that evening, I turned things over to Ben Villanueva and the lead BCI investigator for the site, Tom Forsythe.

At one point, I took advantage of a lull in the action while waiting for BCI and the Feds to arrive and called Shannon. She was ecstatic to hear from me, as always, but had no idea at that point what had happened since she was at work. I told her that something major had happened and that she would be hearing about it soon, if she hadn't already. I told her that I just wanted to let her know that I was okay and would call her after I got back to Red River Falls.

To her credit, Shannon didn't push it and just told me she loved me and would wait for my call.

Since my vehicle was involved in the shooting it needed to stay at the scene and would eventually be towed to the state crime lab. Besides, with a completely clouded over windshield, the Expedition wasn't drivable anyway. Danny Larson volunteered to give me a ride back to Red River Falls. I told him to go ahead and take me straight to Tristan's house so I could see how the investigation was coming there.

"You sure you're doing okay, Pat?" Danny asked as we left the scene.

"I dunno, Danny. I think so. But I'm not really sure. I don't really know what bothers me more - what happened to me or what happened to Tristan, ya know?"

Danny let out a long, slow sigh. "Yeah, I hear ya. Never thought something like this would happen to us. You always think it is going to be some bigger city and department that has to deal with something like this. It's what I always liked about Red River Falls - nothing ever happens in a town like this."

"I guess you could say that nothing like this is ever supposed to happen in a town like Red River Falls."

We rode in silence for a few minutes before I decided I needed to cut through the tension.

"Was your buddy Daulton Anderson one of the flight medics on the helicopter today?"

"Uh, no, he only works on the helicopter one or two days a month. He was actually in one of the ambulances that Red River Falls Fire sent to the scene. He ended up getting stuck hauling in both of the shooters to the morgue. Kind of gross, if you ask me, but Daulton said he's never been more pleased to have to drop someone off at the morgue than those two."

"Nice," I said, chuckling. It actually felt good to laugh a bit. "Say, how are things going between him and his wife, Darla?"

"Things are going quite well, actually. They're expecting their first child together."

"Jesus," I chuckled. "I guess those two didn't waste any time."

"You're telling me! She's only about six weeks along and their wedding was back in June. He just told me a couple of days ago. The rest of the family didn't even know about it, at the time he told me, and they haven't told Darla's kids, Natalie and Nathan."

"Do he and Darla ever worry about Randy?"

"Who, Daulton? Why? Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

Now Danny chuckled. "You seriously haven't heard what happened to Randy?"

"No. Clue me in."

"Okay, okay," Danny chuckled. He was bordering on laughing hysterically as he drove. "So, Randy got convicted last spring, right? They got him on a felony assault charge for beating Darla to a pulp. Next, they convicted him of interstate flight since he bailed out of Royal Fork and made a run for Kalispell, Montana where his sister lives. She waits until he's asleep, calls 9-1-1 and doesn't answer. They send a couple of cops over to her house to check out a '9-1-1 hang up' and she leads them right to the spare bedroom where Randy's out cold. Talk about a rude awakening!"

"Yeah, no shit!"

"So anyway, there's like zero room at the state pen up here. So they end up shipping him all the way down to Sioux Falls and paying them to house him down there. So, anyway, (*chuckling*) Randy's in there for a few weeks and he starts getting 'the urge', if you know what I mean. So, for some reason, they've got Randy in a minimum security wing. Why? I don't have the first clue. But anyway, minimum security is where they also house most of the homosexual prisoners. You know, to try and keep them away from the really violent cons and predators, right?"

"Sure," I agreed.

"So Randy, by this time he doesn't care, and he tries to get in good with the queers. He's all really nice to them and stuff. Pretty soon he strikes up a thing with one of them and gets his knob polished on a regular basis. Well, down there, the Aryans pretty much run the place so if you wanna do anything with anybody, you gotta go through the Aryans. And those guys run the pimping trade in Sioux Falls!"

"Go on," I encouraged.

"So, (*giggling*) a couple of the Aryan dudes figure out that one of their bitches is giving it away for free. So they buy or bribe their way into the minimum security wing and they catch Randy at his job in the kitchen. They absolutely beat the fuck out of Randy Jones! They tell him that if he ever propositions one of their bitches again without paying up he's gonna get his throat slit. There's also a rumor that they may or may not have forced Randy to eat a dick or two that day, not that he'd ever admit to it regardless."

"Boy, I bet ol' Randy learned a tough lesson that day," I surmised.

"No, Pat! He didn't! (*laughing*) That's the best part! Old Randy has as big of a Napoleonic complex if there ever was one! I mean, we're talking major Little Man issues. So, what does he decide to do?"

"Go out and get revenge?"

"Bingo! He either makes, steals or buys some kind of a shank in there. Then he bribes his way into the Gen Pop, walks right up to one of the guys who beat him up, and proceeds to stab the dude right... in...the...throat," he emphasized, gesturing. "And he does this right in front of the entire Gen Pop during lunch time, no less! So every C.O. in the cafeteria sees him do this!"

"No...fucking...way! Did the guy live or die?"

"Miraculously, the guy lived! Randy barely, and I mean just barely, missed the guy's carotid artery and jugular vein. He only got about two stabs in before he got piled on by a bunch of Aryan dudes who pretty much beat the living shit out of him for a second time before the C.O.'s cleared everybody out of there with a couple of rubber-filled grenades and flash bangs. I'm sure he got some serious jail cred for doing it, but damn!"

"So, I'm sure they brought him up on charges, right?" I asked.

"Oh, absolutely! They even have a courtroom right in the prison down there! He didn't even bother fighting the charges! He knew they had him dead to rights, so it was like, 'what's the point'? The only problem was, his fresh-out-of-law-school public defender didn't tell him what the true consequences were and the only trick the rookie lawyer knew was to get Randy to plead guilty to felony aggravated assault instead of an attempted murder rap. So, if you combine the felony assault conviction for beating up Darla with a felony eluding and interstate flight conviction, AND throw in yet another unrelated aggravated assault charge, what does that all add up to? BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"