Looky-Loos Throng to Crime Scene

With scavengers swarming their neighborhood for souvenirs and constructing shrill-voiced conspiracy theories on their front lawns, residents of the gun-battle neighborhood in North Hollywood continued a search of their own Sunday.

They still sought reasons for Friday’s spectacular Bank of America shootout and the warlike atmosphere that persisted long after the gunfire stopped. For several hours, about three dozen residents gathered at Victory Boulevard Elementary School, posing questions to officials from city and county agencies.

Mayor Richard Riordan and Police Chief Willie Williams, who it was announced would attend the meeting, did not show up. The North Hollywood Division commander, Capt. Rick Wahler, and City Councilman Richard Alarcon, in whose district most of the action occurred, did.

Though some residents complained about such problems as traffic flow, helicopter noise and crime-fascinated looky-loos, the session was marked by passionate support for the Police Department’s efforts.

“You backed us 100%. You didn’t let us down,” said Tracy Fisher, a 28-year-old North Hollywood native who was wounded in the toe in the crossfire. After another audience member criticized police for failing to remove a tarp in front of his house that had covered one of the slain suspects, Fisher drew a loud ovation with her tearful response.

“I’m sorry, sir, that you had a bloody tarp in front of your home. I really am. But for something of this force and size, we are alive.”

Wahler thanked the crowd for the support, noting that his station had received 18 floral bouquets from well-wishers.

“This community was invaded and victimized three times,” Alarcon said, referring to the original gun battle, the police search of the neighborhood for possible escaped robbers--which included battering down a shed with a police armored car--and the influx of curious spectators Saturday and Sunday.

At least three people in the audience were part of the group of bank customers shut in the vault at the start of the ordeal.

“I grew up in the ‘50s . . . when everybody knew everybody else,” said Bill Capizzi, 59, of North Hollywood. “That doesn’t happen here now. I don’t know why. But in that vault, there was a camaraderie that was unbelievable. If we had more of that every day, we wouldn’t have [expletive] like this in the first place.”

Another man, who spoke before the meeting on condition of anonymity, said he hoped the meeting would help him and others deal with their roiling emotions. He recalled being shoved into the vault with his mother and baby daughter.

“When I saw them pointing their guns at my mother, I stopped being scared. I started being angry. I hope today will be a good start” toward recovery, he said.

Spectators continued pouring into the neighborhood Sunday, some of them climbing trees and rooting through flower beds in their quest for spent bullets, shell casings or other souvenirs.

Helen McDonald, 82, of Burbank carefully peeled bark off a bullet-riddled tree in the Bank of America parking lot.

“It reminded me of the old-time gangsters,” McDonald said, adding that she planned to send bark pieces to her sister in Chicago. “We both remember when this kind of thing happened back then, with people shooting from [car] running boards.”