The Clouds Have Lifted
On Tuesday night, amid all of the
sniper anxiety of the last several weeks,
something very interesting crossed the police scanner that rested in
my wife’s hands. A call rang out, “Shots fired.” Gun shots
were reported in the woods of Columbia and the activity on the
scanner quickly reached a crescendo.
The chatter of weapons fire was quickly followed by a report of a white
van along the roadside. Two individuals had reportedly bailed from the vehicle.
Orders were given to block the highways in the area and, if I’m not
mistaken, interstate 95 was one of them. The police response
was swift.
Luckily, this was a false alarm. Unluckily, the police did not have another
chance to catch the sniper. The gun shots from the woods were from
a hunter; a hunter that evidently thought he was above a
decree
by the governor. The van in question had broken down. It’s occupants
had left the vehicle to seek assistance. The situation was quickly
investigated and quickly resolved.
That didn’t mean the whole incident didn’t grab the interest of the wife and
I. Is it him? Are they on the run? Speak up scanner. We need to know.
Could we be listening to the call that finally catches the killer?
Unfortunately, the answer was no. The
events of Wednesday
night followed a similar path. This time, however, we watched
along with the rest of the world as the events unfolded on national
television.
Reports stormed in about a
link
to Tacoma, Washington. The view from the
helicopter showed the police cleaning up. Evidently, they hadn’t just arrived.
Killings in Montgomery, Alabama were suspected to be related. Finally,
the
focus of the police shifted from the ever elusive white van to something
completely different and much more specific. Police were seeking
a 1990 Chevrolet Caprice and the men who were driving it. Names
were given. Pictures soon followed. I looked over to the wife and said,
“They’ll have them by noon.”
They did.
A passing motorist noticed that not all of us had slept well the night before.
Two men were rudely awaken at gunpoint. The car was searched. The weapon
was
found. The evidence is damning. Hand shakes began.
The clouds of the last several weeks that came in the
form a madman that stalked the innocent behind the scope of a rifle have
finally been lifted.
As the
details slowly leak out, I’ll have a little battle with myself.
I’m intensly curious about the details of the investigation. What
were the communications with the police? What did the police know
and when did they know it? However, I’m not so sure the public should be
told. I’d hate to think that someone could learn from this killer’s mistakes.
The terrorists of the world like to believe their acts are of courage and
bravery. I disagree. I can’t imagine anything more cowardly than
hiding behind a gun and firing on women and children. I hope the
careful words of the past are replaced by shouts that
denounce this act for what it was:
a treacherous crime by a gutless chicken shit.
Looking back (if, in fact, I can look back at this point), people
like
Andrew Sullivan, bring up some interesting
points.
I have one to add. I’ve found it rather sad that some of the horrible events
around the world were all but ignored by the major news networks during
the sniper’s reign of terror.
Tragic events such as the fiery
attack in Bali or the ongoing
hostage
crisis in Russia should not have been regulated to a scrolling
update on
CNN. These are major events. I understand that
our crisis at home was important, and, for that matter, weighed
heavily on my own mind, but we found out on September 11th that
terrorism is world news. It does effect us, rather we like it or not.
The end of all this brings a nice, if only temporary, sense of relief.
People no longer need to approach the gas tank of their car like a
deer stealing a drink of water from a nearby stream.
I may take a celebratory walk through the neighborhood just to
mark the occasion. No need to peer into the woods. It’s safe – at least
as far as we know.
