Posted Online 09/09 at 11:30 a.m.
Philadelphia-A critically burned man who had just been admitted to the Intensive Care Unit of the Temple University Hospital was shot multiple times by an unknown assailant this morning, according to a source inside the hospital who asked to remain anonymous.
Witnesses on the sidewalk outside the hospital said that about 10:50 a.m. the gunman ran out of the hospital from an exit door at street level. He then fled eastward down Tioga Street. When the exit door opened again, witnesses said, the gunman fired back at it, narrowly missing a man who identified himself by shouting “Police! Stop!”
“It was absolute chaos,” said Sylvia Morris, who was returning to her job at the hospital. “Everyone on the sidewalk was running for their lives.”
As the gunman ran toward Germantown Avenue, witnesses said, he reloaded his pistol. The man who identified himself as police then pursued him.
A short time later, witnesses said that they heard at least four more gunshots in the direction that the two had run, but that they could not see them at that point.
The gunman was described as being a Hispanic male of tiny stature, no older than a teenager. He wore royal blue hospital scrubs and carried in his right hand a black semiautomatic pistol. He remains at large.
A spokesman for the Philadelphia Police Department confirmed that a sergeant from the department had been the one who had chased the shooter. But the spokesman would neither identify the sergeant nor give any details on what happened in the hospital prior to the street chase.
Check back for updates as they become available.
COMMENTS (3)
From PutGodbackinPhilly (1:48 p.m.):
How on earth can something like this be possible? Is there no place in our city of brotherly love that?s not safe? This is what happens when we stop teaching The Bible. What part of “Thou Shalt Not Kill!” do these people not understand?
Recommend [12] Click Here to Report Abuse From PhillyEaglesFan (2:34 p.m.):
Amen, sister. And thank God for our men in blue.
Recommend [14] Click Here to Report Abuse From Hung.Up.Badge.But.Not.Gun (2:56 p.m.):
I talked to an inside source, too, and was told that this was a hit job. Maybe not a professional one, but the burn victim (there?s more to that story that I cannot share) was targeted. So sad to see this happening in Philly. I?ll say it again: Shoot?em all and let the Good Lord sort?em out.
Recommend [6] Click Here to Report Abuse What bullshit! Delgado thought.
He clicked on the page to leave a comment, then typed one and clicked SEND.
After a moment, his message appeared last on the list of comments:
From Death.Before.Dishonor (3:20 p.m.):
What about “Thou Shalt Not Steal”??
The only sad thing about what happened is the gun didn?t empty all of its bullets into that pendejo! Skipper deserved every damn bullet!
Recommend [0] Click Here to Report Abuse Delgado shook his head disgustedly, then shut down the Dell rental lap top. He pulled out his USB flash drive. And then he walked out of the kiosk, headed to the Transportation Security Administration checkpoint for Concourse E.
[FOUR] Delaware Expressway (I-95 North), Philadelphia Wednesday, September 9, 3:45 P.M.
Philadelphia Police Department Sergeant Matt Payne was behind the wheel of his white Ford rental sedan. Texas Rangers Sergeant Jim Byrth was in the front passenger bucket seat looking out the window at the Delaware River and, on the other side of that, New Jersey. The Hat was sitting upside down on the backseat.
When Payne’s cellular telephone started ringing, he had to do some juggling in order to answer it.
And the first thing he did was toss his “specialty” pretzel onto the dashboard.
As Payne and Byrth had headed for Baggage Claim D, the Texan had suddenly said, “Hey, look! Soft pretzels! I didn’t eat a damn thing on that lousy flight. C’mon. The Great State of Texas is treating.”
The pretzels had been huge, each weighing at least a pound. Payne had been impressed, but not to the point where he’d have paid for one.
The two cops had chewed on theirs while waiting for Byrth’s one leather suitcase to show up on the baggage carousel. And then chewed on them on the walk to Terminal E. And then after that during the drive up I-95.
When they had walked up to the rental car where Payne had left it in the Terminal E OFFICIAL POLICE USE ONLY parking spot, Payne had pushed the button on his key fob that remotely unlocked the trunk. Byrth tossed his leather suitcase inside, then put down his pretzel and went about opening the suitcase.
Payne had watched with curiosity as Byrth then removed from it a pair of Smith amp; Wesson chrome handcuffs.
Byrth felt him watching and said, “I left the standard-issue leg irons and transport belt in my truck at the airport in Houston. Figured you’d have some I could borrow if necessary.”
“I think we can find something suitable. Maybe even rope.”
Byrth slipped the cuffs into the right patch pocket of his blazer, then pulled from the suitcase two hard-plastic clamshell boxes. He put them side by side on the carpeted floor of the trunk. They were identical. Payne thought they looked like the case that had been on Denny Coughlin’s desk, the one containing the police department-issued Glock 17 pistol. Except these boxes were smooth-sided, with no markings whatever. There was only a combination lock and a luggage name tag on each.
Wordlessly, Byrth spun the dials of one combination lock, then the other, and removed them. Next he slid open the latches of the box on the right and opened up the box.
Now, Payne saw, the box did look like the one on Coughlin’s desk. It held a black semiautomatic pistol in a dense black foam cushioning that was customized to fit the exact contours of the gun.
Payne smiled.
A Colt Combat Commander.
Customized and engraved with a Texas Ranger badge.
Very nice gun.
When Byrth opened the other clamshell, Payne saw that it also had the black foam cushioning, but this one had been custom-fitted to securely hold five magazines, a polymer box labeled.45ACP TACTICAL JHP, 230-GRAIN, 50 ROUNDS, and a black leather skeleton holster.
Tactical jacketed hollow points.
Same rounds we use.
Byrth took out one of the magazines. He snapped back the top of the polymer box to reveal the shiny brass bullets inside.
“This’ll take just a second, if you don’t mind,” he said.
“No problem,” Payne replied. He added, “So you like the.45, too?”
Byrth clenched a magazine in his right hand and was pulling rounds from the box and using his thumb to feed them one by one into the top of the magazine.
“Too?” Byrth repeated. “I take it you’re a fan, then.”
Payne said, “You ever hear the story of the pacifist who got in the cop’s face and whined, ‘How come you carry a.45, tough guy?’ ”
Byrth grinned and made a soft grunt.
“Yeah,” he said. “And the cop replied, ‘Because they don’t make a fucking.46.’”
“That was no story,” Payne said. “That was me.”
Byrth chuckled.
Payne then discreetly reached inside his shirt and brought out his Colt Officer’s Model, taking care to keep it concealed from passersby.
Byrth nodded appreciatively. “I sometimes carry an Officer’s as my backup.”
