Shoot Not to Kill

by Daniel L Stephenson

  “Colin has been shot. He’s down. I’m getting the ambulance crew to take him to Doctor’s Hospital. He wants me to go to Tri-Memorial to get Clinker. I can’t do much at the hospital. Can you meet me at ER at Tri-Memorial?” Michelle implored as she tried to talk away from the crowd.

  “Oh, fuck. Got it. You think he’ll make it?” Geech asked.

  It occurred to Michelle that it was the first time she had ever heard Geech cuss. “I think he got good help right away. God, Geech, this sucks. I want to go with him, but I want to get that son of a bitch nailed, too.”

  “Get him to the other hospital. I’ll meet you at the Memorial ER, and this should not take long. We’re headed that way now. It may be a few more minutes.”

  Michelle pulled a technician aside and said, “This man has to go to Doctor’s Hospital. I am FBI, I cannot tell you why, but he has to go to Doctor’s, and you have to keep it quiet. Call in and tell Tri-Memorial you are coming, but divert to Doctor’s. Got it?”

  The EMT looked at her badge and shook his head. “We have orders that are set. I can’t divert unless told to do so by the ER doctor. He’s going to Tri-Memorial or staying here.”

  Michelle stood back and called 911. “I need Tri-Memorial ER. This is FBI official business, monitor and record. Agent Lumen, FBI.”

  The dispatch operator said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Tri-Memorial, how may I direct your call?” came the voice

  Michelle noted the emergency medical techs were loading Colin on the cot. “I need the ER, stat.”

  “ER, Jessie, ward clerk,” came the voice.

  “I need your ER doctor, this is FBI, and I mean now, if he’s not in an emergency.”

  “Hold on,” came the reply.

  “This is Dr. O’Brian. Who is this?”

  “This is Agent Michelle Lumen, FBI. I will be there in a few minutes and explain it all. I need stat divert orders to the ambulance that has just picked up my partner at a shooting. I will explain everything in a few minutes. I will be in your ER, but I need those orders now. We are within a mile of the border to Doctor’s Hospital, and they are loading now.”

  “I have no way to verify what you say, but I’ll order a divert. What was your name again?”

  “My name is Michelle Lumen. Another agent is coming to the ER. His name is Paul Geech, my boss. You must not let the staff know you diverted, but get all your security down there. I’m on the way.”

  “I’ll see you here,” Dr. O’Brian said as the phone died.

  Michelle watched as the EMTs moved Colin out. Colin weakly waved at Michelle, saying to go. She followed the crew to the ambulance.

  “City E3, this is dispatch,” the radio shouted.

  One of the EMTs picked up a microphone from his shirt and answered, “Dispatch, this is E3, go ahead.”

  “You call me on land-line stat. 10-21?”

  “Got it, calling now. We’re rolling for Tri-Memorial. I’ll call my assessment in shortly,” the EMT said.

  “OK, thanks,” dispatch said.

  The EMT pulled a small phone out and as he assisted in loading Colin he crunched the phone to his shoulder. He talked for a moment then looked at Michelle, nodding his head.”

  “You did it, ma’am, we’re going to Doctor’s,” the EMT said as he jumped through the door of the ambulance. “You are coming?”

  Michelle placed a hand on Colin, “I’ll be there honey, soon. I’ll be there.” Looking up the EMT she said, “I’m following you in a few minutes. He is FBI on a case. Full coverage, got it?

  “I’ll pass it on, ma’am. Stand back, please,” he said as he slammed the doors.

  The ambulance rolled off. Michelle stood for a second feeling the lowest she had ever felt in her life. Her husband was being taken to a hospital with a gunshot wound to his chest, and she was trying to catch the man that shot him. Michelle ran to her car and headed for Tri-Memorial.

  The ER staff was standing by the doors to the biggest room in the ER suite. The door was marked ‘Trauma,’ and there were ten or more people standing by, waiting for the ambulance that had been dispatched to their hospital, not knowing Michelle had diverted the ambulance.

  The ER doctor was standing in scrubs, a large orange gown covered his scrubs and he had a splash shied over his face as well as thick gloves. Michelle walked to him and held up her badge.

  “I am Michelle Lumen. We just talked. I need to speak with you alone,” Michelle asked. She noticed the nursing staff hovering closer to her.

  Dr. O’Brian motioned Michelle to a storeroom next to the trauma suite. They stepped inside, and he closed the door behind her.

  Michelle turned to Dr. O’Brian and said, “We are investigating someone that works here, and I am getting backup for an arrest. I am not aware of what name he goes by. He may be a recent addition to your staff. Do you have a thoracic surgeon coming in for this case?”

  “That would be Dr. Hennessey. He’s here on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, covering weekend trauma call. He’s a locum doctor. He’s been called. What has he done?” Dr. O’Brian asked. “I have staff here to protect.”

  “We have been following a trail for maybe fifteen years. It originally looked isolated, but now it appears there’s a possibility that Dr. Hennessey is guilty of aggravated assault, manslaughter, and fraudulent activity. I am not sure if it is the same person, but I will attempt arrest today.”

  “Well, he will be here any minute. I’ll stay out of the way, and I need my staff out of the way.”

  “At the present, I need you to make things look normal. My backup is your security and two FBI agents that are coming. Hennessey needs to be put under arrest today and in the next few minutes. Then we’ll find out if he’s guilty. He has to have gun powder on his clothes or hand, and we’ll test him, but for right now, make it look normal until I have my backup.” Michelle said.

  “I don’t like this, but OK,” Dr. O’Brian said as he opened the storeroom door.

  Michelle noticed the suspended silence as she came out.

  “Dr. O’Brian, I need scrubs, where can I change?” Michelle asked.

  Dr. O’Brian waved for a nurse. “Laurie, can you take … ” he said, looking expectantly to Michelle.

  “Shelly,” Michelle answered.

  “to the nurses locker? She will need to change.”

  “OK, follow me Shelley. Are you a nurse?”

  “Laurie, I have to explain everything in a few minutes, but I have had training, yes,” Michelle said, feeling guilty at the deception.

  The nurse’s locker room was close, and Michelle changed quickly. She exited and had her hair under a cap she found hanging on a peg. She still wore makeup that would be inappropriate for a working nurse, unless that nurse was on the lookout for a man, so was trying to find a facemask. The crew in the trauma room gave her wide berth, not certain of how to act with her.

  “Please understand, I am an FBI agent. Two more agents are on the way. We are interested in the victim, and I would appreciate you acting normally as we observe. Do your normal work with him, and we will be interested only when that work is done. I will explain everything.”

  The doors swung in as she finished. The doctor that walked in immediately started barking orders. “Where the hell is my patient?!” he demanded.

  Much to Michelle’s regret, she noticed several staff turn to her. She looked at Dr. Bishell. He was fifty pounds heavier, grayer, and appeared much older than expected for just fourteen years having passed.

  Dr. Bishell looked at Michelle and grabbed a technician that was standing next to a portable X-ray machine and threw her across the gurney into Michelle. The technician was a young woman that weighed much less than Dr. Bishell. Michelle collapsed with the girl on top. The technician screamed, several other technicians stood in astonished silence as Michelle scrambled up, her service revolver drawn as she burst through the trauma room doors.

  Laurie was just coming into the trauma suite when Michelle ran out. Laurie ricoch
eted off the door and fell into a supply cart. Michelle looked for a likely exit route and realized she did not have her radios with her. The door to the ambulance bay was closest so she ran through that door just as she heard a loud gunshot. One ambulance stood parked against the far wall. Geech lay before that ambulance.

  Michelle ran to Geech and noticed he was holding his side, alert and awake. Geech could hardly talk, “Vest. Hurts like bloody hell. Out that door,” he said as he pointed to a door in the back of the ambulance bay.

  Michelle noted the staff cautiously looking out the door. “He’s hit, get out here. It is safe.”

  Michelle ran to the back door and noted it was closed. “Where does this go?” she yelled to the crew coming out the double entry doors a few feet away.

  “Parking garage tunnel,” came several answering her.

  “Is it straight?” Michelle asked as she turned the handle.

  “Dips, can’t see the other door from here,” answered a security guard just coming around the crowd at the door.

  Michelle opened the door and stepped back behind the cement surrounding the door. No shots or voices. She jumped past the door to the other side, looking in as she passed the door. She noted lights were on, and no one was in the tunnel as it descended. She also noted there were several wheelchairs lining the vestibule into the tunnel. Taking one, she pushed it down the tunnel. Shots roared down the tunnel, striking the chair. Michelle jumped back through the door.

  “How do I get to where this tunnel goes other than going through the tunnel?” she yelled.

  “Out the front, turn right, head up hill. Will get you to the first-floor parking garage,” Laurie answered as she assisted getting Geech on a gurney.

  Michelle ran out the front bay doors and around the corner. She ran up the hill and noted the first level of the parking garage had a barrier that started out twenty feet above her head and then ended at a doorway on ground level some fifty feet ahead. She crouched down and ran to the doorway. There she rolled past the door and looked into the parking area. Bishell was running up the ramp to the second level when she heard another shot fired. Before she could duck, she saw one of Bishell’s legs explode in a red haze under the fury of an overhead light. Bishell was down, holding his leg. Michelle knew there was another agent somewhere and yelled out, “FBI coming in from the door, FBI.”

  “Come on, this is Fogerty. I got him.”

  Michelle cautiously leaned through the door and saw Deputy Fogerty putting the biggest pistol she had ever seen back into his hip holster. She ran to Bishell, keeping her service pistol on him.

  Dr. Bishell lay screaming and rolling in pain. He held his knee tightly and looked up as Michelle approached.

  “God damn, do something bitch,” he yelled.

  “I’ll fucking do something if you don’t get both your hands in the air NOW.”

  Bishell raised his hands as he screamed in pain and yelled, “I’m bleeding, I need help.”

  “One move, and I’ll help you more than you did all the guys you been shooting. One move, got me Bishell?”

  “Help me, damn it,” Bishell yelled again.

  Michelle approached Bishell, holding her service pistol away from her body and back away from Bishell’s reach. She started a pat down and found Bishell’s weapon under his right side, by his leg.

  “OK, lady. I got him covered. Get him on his belly. We need to clear his back. Buddy, you got one chance to live, and that means you stay real still and do what we tell you, you got that?” Fogerty said as he kicked the pistol away from Bishell’s leg.

  Michelle rolled Bishell and patted his back down, pulling his wallet and keys from pockets.

  “For Christ’s sake, help me, I’m bleeding to death,” yelled Bishell.

  Fogerty pulled up his radio and called, “Dispatch, tell Tri-Memorial we’ve got another gunshot wound in their parking lot. Near the ramp.”

  “Who is calling?” came the reply.

  “Jeb, I’ll kick your butt back on patrol if you don’t make that call,” Fogerty said.

  “Oh, shit, sorry, Boss,” came the reply. “Tri-Memorial, did you monitor County six on the call for an ambulance?”

  “We copy, is it safe out there?” came the call from Tri-Memorial.

  Fogerty looked at Michelle and asked, “He got anyone working with him?”

  “Never picked that up. I think we’re secure here. Bishell, you got someone else around here?” Michelle asked.

  “I should have finished you years ago, bitch,” was his reply.

  “Oh, shucks, and before I read you your rights. I think I’ll just let you bleed a little while longer,” Michelle said.

  Fogerty gave a run down on his rights in less than ten seconds, and said, “Tell her again about finishing her off.”

  “Fuck you both,” came the reply.

  “Tri-Memorial, we may not be secure here yet. I’ll call when it is safe,” Fogerty said.

  “I’m fucking alone,” Bishell said.

  “Dispatch, send the crew up, we’re secure,” Fogerty called as he waved Michelle back. “OK, Bishell, just hold what you got. You may be in real trouble finding a doctor. It seems the surgeon here got himself into a whole peck of trouble.”

  Chapter 44

  Bishell Cracks

  Colin, Geech, and Michelle sat in the small room at the penitentiary. Geech wore a sharp gray suit that matched his hair. Colin was in slacks. His hair also had gray, but not as much—not as much hair and not as much gray. Michelle was in a blouse and slacks. Her hair was in a quick pullup, mixed heavily with gray.

  The room was quiet, dark, and comfortable. A large monitor was on in the corner and Bishell was sitting at a desk with his court-appointed lawyer. The desk held two other chairs, and the room appeared comfortably above austere, yet not luxurious. There was no sound, though it appeared Bishell and his lawyer talked quietly. Bishell looked a late middle-aged male, balding and gray. His clothes were standard prison clothes, and it appeared he had dropped considerable weight.

  The door opened and the state’s prosecutor entered the room with two other individuals. No efforts were made to become familiar, introductions were made but no hands were shaken in greeting. The prosecutor and lawyer sat down and waved at the television monitor in the room. Voice picked up with the display.

  “We are now being recorded. My name is on your paperwork as is my assistant’s. The other member here today is a court-appointed ombudsman. Your attorney is present as you had requested, Mr. Bishell … .”

  “Dr. Bishell!” the prisoner interjected.

  “We commonly do not use honorariums in prison, Mr. Bishell. Do you understand the nature of this meeting? I am here to determine if your counsel has received disclosure and has accepted this as the extent of the evidence that has been gathered against you. This is not a hearing. I am not a judge. I am not the prosecuting attorney. I am one of the lawyers appointed by the state to observe the prosecution of your case.”

  Bishell’s lawyer spoke up, “I have received the information labeled as the case against my client, dated Tuesday, last. If there has been no other disclosure or discover, then I am in receipt of the case.”

  “There has been no further discovery. Have you discussed the charges and the evidence with your client?” asked the older lawyer.

  “That is hardly your business, sir. I must also say that this meeting is unorthodox. If you have something you wish to discuss with us, I would appreciate you getting to the point.”

  The older lawyer smiled and said, “I appreciate your candor. At this point, we are two years into the investigation. We have a case that is outlined in the material. I would appreciate it if you could contact the appointed judge if you have any proposals before the trial date. This judge will contact me, and we can discuss the matter with prosecution. I will turn off monitors now, and you may continue your visit in privacy.”

  Bishell’s lawyer leaned back and studied the older lawyer for a moment. “I will cert
ainly contact the judge. Thank you for the most interesting meeting.”

  The two lawyers left the room with the ombudsman, and the monitor went dark.

  They entered the room with Michelle, Colin, and Geech.

  The older lawyer was talking as the entered, “I would bet that young pup has not gone through the file.”

  “Why do you say that?” the ombudsman asked.

  The older lawyer smiled, turned to the ombudsman, and said, “Because he’s not scared as hell yet. We’ve got everything, and when the court-appointed dummy gets to page 3488, he’ll see where we have a picture ID of Bishell buying the weapon he used in Spokane. It is from a security monitor on the wall of a school gym in Cleveland, Ohio. Seems the ID that is imprinted magnetically in every pistol manufactured since 1992 matched the ID of a pistol sold to Dr. Bishell at that gun show in Cleveland. The tapes for that gun show were kept by a cagey, old, enterprising soul, and we had to disappoint him terribly by getting a warrant for the tape once he made it known that he had it. I may still get some reward to him. That will change counsel’s tune some. Only thing we needed was a fingerprint; seems this guy was one of the best keeping his fingerprints off his stuff. That come from your work, I believe, Geech. The Post Office in St. Louis.”

  “Thanks for calling us in on this,” Michelle said. “I hope we have something.”

  Back in the small interview room, Bishell’s attorney pushed his chair back and moved to the chair across from Bishell. “I know that bastard. I’ve worked with him plenty, and he’s got something in this evidence that’s got him pretty confident. You need to tell me a bit more on what you have been up to.”

  Bishell looked at the attorney and shook his head. “I’m the injured party here. They have been trailing me for years. I thought I was getting mugged in Spokane, and turned out the dude was an FBI agent. How was I supposed to know? You said there is evidence from Alaska. I’ve had to work, didn’t I? I worked at Matsu Valley Hospital. What am I supposed to do, starve? I don’t know anything else about Alaska.”