Get Inside and Stay Down
Magro ran to the front corner of the house, dry autumn leaves crunching beneath his feet.
Throwing his left shoulder against the siding, Magro took up a position near the corner of the house. An elderly woman creaked open her front door and asked timidly, "What's going on?"
Magro shushed her. "Get in your house and stay down!"
The woman wisely retreated back inside and closed the door.
Magro quickly glanced around the corner of the house, peeking into the backyard.
Sensing his father’s spirit watching over him, Magro was instantly reminded of his duty and purpose as a police officer and his need to maintain good officer safety.
"Clear," he said, as though someone—perhaps his father—might be listening to him.
He moved from his cover toward the back corner of the house. Glancing around the downspout, he took in a glimpse of the backyard.
The suspect was clambering up a small hill in the backyard toward the tree line.
The sky was empty of clouds and the moon lit up the ground like a floodlight. If the man were wearing darker clothes, Magro might not have seen him right away. As it was, the white T-shirt the suspect was wearing acted as a bull's-eye.
Magro steadied his hand, raised his weapon, and then stepped out of the shadows.
"Police! Get down now!"
The suspect turned and without a moment's hesitation, fired his handgun three times directly at Magro.
Magro never heard the shots. He saw only the muzzle flashes piercing the darkness. He wondered if this was it. Images of his wife dressed in black, holding a folded American flag, and his daughters walking down the aisle alone flashed through his mind.
Tunnel vision set in, locking Magro’s eyesight on the white T-shirt illuminated in the moonlight. With the suspect silhouetted against the tree line, Magro stepped left and repeatedly squeezed the trigger of his .40 caliber Beretta. Seven shots blasted out across the yard.
Twenty feet away, the suspect's right arm flew into the air and he doubled over before dropping to the ground.
"Shots fired! Shots fired!" someone was screaming over the portable radio. It was Pewitt's voice, but without the calm assurance he'd displayed when he'd had his own close call.
You Shot Me
Magro cautiously approached the suspect, weapon trained on the man's every move.
When Magro reached the man, he noticed a revolver lying three feet away, a beer bottle still clenched in his left hand. Magro kicked the revolver away from the suspect.
"You shot me!" the man yelled in protest. "I can't believe you shot me!"
The man was evidently too drunk to remember what had transpired during the preceding 10 minutes. Pewitt secured the suspect and returned to Magro's patrol car.
Magro sat on the curb next to his car. Adrenaline surged through his body, causing his left leg to shake seismically.
A sheriff's deputy, who heard the pursuit over the radio and responded to the scene, approached him.
"Are you OK?" he asked.
Magro nodded, thankful for the presence of his father’s spirit, like a guardian angel looking over his shoulder.
As for Brown, he was convicted of attempted second degree murder against a police officer, attempted first degree murder on his sister, and aggravated domestic against his girlfriend.