Light Notes

Newspaperman remembers close call with shooter

John Trumbo with his unrestored1930 Model A Ford purchased after his retirement from the Tri-City Herald in 2012.
John Trumbo with his unrestored1930 Model A Ford purchased after his retirement from the Tri-City Herald in 2012. Lucy Luginbill

The newspaper deadline loomed large as the harried reporter rushed to capture the story. But at every turn it seemed as if he had been dealt a bad hand.

“I had taken a commonly traveled back road, but my memory of it was a little fuzzy,” John Trumbo said about his drive to a scheduled interview. “There were several turns to get to the strip mall in a dense commercial area. I made a wrong turn and I hit a street full of traffic.”

Instead of saving time, the newspaperman now found he would lose precious minutes in the steady stream of bumper–to–bumper cars and trucks; something the general assignment writer hadn’t planned on when he drove from the Sacramento Bee Neighbors newspaper bureau office in New Castle, Calif., to the town of Roseville.

The year was 1984 and a time before cellular phones were readily available. John found himself stuck in traffic without any way to get word to his waiting interviewee. Even if a pay phone had materialized on the horizon, it would mean more time lost wedging his vehicle back into traffic.

“I was unhappy. I was going to be late and the interview was with the president of the company,” the retired Tri–City Herald reporter said about his frustration more than 30 years ago. “The guy was in real estate and he supported the school bond on the ballot, which was unusual,” one reason for the interview.

Minutes ticked by. Anxiety escalated. John couldn’t believe how it felt like the deck was stacked against his arriving on time.

“I pulled into the parking lot and grabbed my stuff,” John said as he recalled how he was focused on rushing toward the realty company’s front door. “I was almost there when someone yelled, ‘Mister, don’t go in there!’”

John quickly turned to search for the urgent voice, his hand paused mid–air and ready to pull the door wide. To his surprise, a distinguished man was crouched on the hot afternoon asphalt, partly hidden from view.

“He shouted, ‘There’s a guy with a gun inside there,’” John said about the heart–stopping moment and the frightening words that followed. “’I think he just killed someone.’”

At the front of the building where he stood, John saw what he had missed, so focused had he been on getting to his appointment. A heavy coat that had been used to disguise weapons lay on the sidewalk near the door, broken glass was scattered wildly, window blinds and an office sign were askew.

“This shooting was seconds old,” John said as he recalled how he had run to a next door business to use their telephone and found it locked. “They had heard the shooting and had just called 911. When I showed my newspaper badge, they let me in to call the city desk to report there was a shooter at the realty company and victims inside.”

John said it was at least five minutes — it seemed much longer — before sirens pierced the air and law enforcement arrived. The police were eventually able to talk the shooter into surrendering. But inside, several dozen real estate agents stayed hidden under desks until they were escorted safely from the building.

Left behind was a bloody trail leading to the vice president of the company who had been killed, and another employee who was wounded. Nearby lay the shooter’s discarded shotgun, rifle, handgun and ammunition.

And the well–dressed man who had taken cover in the parking lot? He was the realtor company’s president, John’s interviewee, and the intended target who had escaped out a back door of his private office.

“If I’d been on time, I would have been interviewing and in the middle of it,” John said with emotion. “I often think about life and compare it to the old IBM punch cards that held information. We each have a card, but we don’t know what’s on it — like how our life will play out through our choices.”

The seasoned reporter paused, his thoughts on the hand he holds.

“But guess who knows what’s on the card.”

Psalm 139:15 “You saw me before I was born and scheduled each day of my life before I began to breathe. Every day was recorded in your Book!” (LB)

This story was originally published October 25, 2015 at 9:06 AM with the headline "Newspaperman remembers close call with shooter."

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