A Gun, and Your Life, in a Stranger’s Hands

The videotape is in black and white and the quality is poor. But even with a high-quality color image, police say, the tape might be helpful only in adding to witnesses’ descriptions of the robber’s clothing and perhaps the type of handgun. His face is a blur inside a nylon stocking.

A model of criminal efficiency, the man pushes the gun into the clerk’s ribs, gets the money from the cash register and briskly walks outs. In and out in 39 seconds.

Moments later, the video reveals another man, walking in from the left, looking out the plate-glass window.

This was me, emerging from my hiding place inside this Northridge liquor store. It was Friday, Dec. 6, not yet 8:30 p.m., and I just wanted a Coke, a jolt of caffeine for the drive home. When I saw the man with the gun, the reaction felt instinctive. I ducked behind shelves stocked with cans of coffee and tomato juice, hoping I hadn’t been seen, worrying that maybe I had, fearing I might get killed.

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Crime is a statistic until it brushes up close. Det. Ed Heissel of the Los Angeles Police Department’s Devonshire Division is able to note that commercial robberies are said to be down 10% this year in the northwest Valley. Still, as of Wednesday morning, Heissel’s caseload had grown by 28 since Dec. 1, expanding his video collection. The robbery I witnessed was the 12th listed in his loose-leaf logbook for December. “They get pretty fat, these books,” Heissel said.

Liquor store and mini-mart robberies are so routine in Los Angeles that they aren’t considered newsworthy unless someone gets shot. This one didn’t seem so routine to me, of course, and I was curious to see how my own memory would compare to videotape.

I also wanted to see what I had missed. There was one moment as I crouched behind those shelves when I wanted to sneak a peak--then realized that if I could see him, he could see me.

I had seen the robber for perhaps only two or three seconds, after he entered the store and then through the window as he left. My memory was of a black man, about 5 feet, 6 inches tall, wearing dark clothing and a dark knit cap atop that nylon mask. Because I’d only seen him briefly and because I’m partially colorblind, I wouldn’t hazard a guess if he was wearing dark gray or dark green.

Not everything was as I had remembered it. In fact, his sleeves were dark, but the torso of his shirt was a light color--possibly a baseball undershirt. Instead of a knit cap, it was a dark baseball cap turned backward.

The video showed how the man immediately walked behind the counter, drew the gun and ordered the clerk onto his knees and to crawl to the cash register. Neither the gunman’s garb nor method, Heissel said, showed obvious similarities to anything else on his videos. The description, he said, might match one of the trio of crooks who held up the same store in September.

I returned to the scene of the crime this week. Worried about publicity, the owner spoke warily and asked me not to use the store’s name. These two robberies, he said, were the first in the 16 years his family had owned the business, a neat, clean, popular place that allows regulars to run accounts. They had moved from Echo Park to the Valley in search of safety. Now he won’t allow family members to work there after dark.

The clerk, a native of India, smiled when he recognized me but also spoke reluctantly. He shuddered as he recalled the robber pressing the barrel of the gun against the back of his neck.

The crook was as quiet as he was quick. From my position, perhaps 45 feet away, I could hear voices but not make out words. I was afraid I’d hear something very loud.

In those 39 seconds, I weighed my options. Briefly I had worried that the robber would discover me and shoot me out of anger--or in disdain for cowardice. Should I alert him to my presence, perhaps stand with my arms raised and say something like, “Go right ahead, Mr. Robber, sir, I won’t bother you”? No, that didn’t seem too smart. Next I eyed the path to the door, but if I tried to run he’d surely see me. My car was parked out front; I thought about using the remote to activate its alarm system--but wouldn’t that just make him jumpy? And I did think about grabbing one of those heavy wine bottles behind me, slipping up behind a row of shelves and. . . . That thought passed the quickest of all.

Heissel assured me I did the right thing, not that I had much doubt.

The experience left me wondering about the NRA types who want permits to carry concealed weapons, insisting that we’d all be better off if the bad guys didn’t know who was armed. Would robbers really be discouraged or just more apt to shoot? Would more bullets be polluting L.A.’s air? I’m just glad there weren’t any heroes there that night.

By the way, I left the Coke on the counter. I was wide awake for the drive home.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth 91311. Please include a phone number.