Read e-book online A Terrible Thunder. The Story of the New Orleans Sniper PDF
By Peter Hernon
On New Year's Eve in New Orleans, 1972, Mark James Essex started some of the most violent and lethal sniper assaults on policemen that any American urban had ever seen.
It was once one more tragic trip down the line of hatred, and sooner than it ended one week later, hundreds and hundreds of seriously armed police and a Marine Corps attack helicopter will be referred to as to a burning downtown resort to conflict phantom gunmen who refused to give up or to be killed.
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Additional resources for A Terrible Thunder. The Story of the New Orleans Sniper
Even Giarrusso was stunned. “It was unreal,” he recalled later. “We thought the sniper had come back. I organized a group of men and made sure they all had shotguns and we took off running in the direction of the shots. They seemed to have come from the houses behind a lot facing South White. ” Soon there were shouts and a door was kicked open and five men, all staggeringly drunk, were herded onto the sidewalk, their hands over their heads as flashlights shone in their faces. One of them, his tongue thick with liquor, excitedly explained how they had decided to celebrate the New Year by firing a shotgun and a deer rifle into the air.
The reporter, knowing his paper was after deadline, had dogged Giarrusso almost from the moment he got out of his car. “We just don’t know yet what we’ve got,” Giarrusso told him. “You’re asking for motives, suspects, and we don’t know any of that. Christ, man. ” Staring at the ground, Giarrusso delayed a moment before he answered. “Look, as soon as we get into this a little, I might have some answers for you. ” Writing furiously on his pad, the reporter hurried off for the nearest telephone to call in four or five paragraphs to be inserted in boldface in the final edition.
The car jolted as they crossed one railroad siding, then another, and when they pulled onto Euphrosine they were almost opposite the lockup on the uptown side of the expressway. The Burkart plant was on their left, a soot-colored warehouse of brick and weathered aluminum shaped like a triangle. Its windows and doors recessed in the shadows like skull sockets; it was grotesque in the darkness. Hosli passed by slowly, playing his spotlight on the walls; everything seemed secure; and more convinced than ever that it was a false alarm, he turned onto a dead-end sidestreet to check the rear of the building.
A Terrible Thunder. The Story of the New Orleans Sniper by Peter Hernon