As the intended victim, frightened in any language, sped away, two gunshots whistled toward his handsome black Chevrolet Suburban. Doggedly, the gentleman, Jose Merino, kept driving, fast as he could, escaping unharmed. Eventually, after a courageous chase, he made his way to the Police Dept., where he unfolded a harrowing story for nonplussed officers.
What Are You Having for Lunch?
“A carjacking in Culver City is rare enough,” Police Lt. Dean Williams told thefrontpageonline.com. “But in daylight, the middle of the day, is nearly unheard of.”
Seeking a little escapism and quiet before starting his Monday afternoon, Mr. Merino made a right turn off Jefferson, at the intersection of Duquesne, and drove up the hill to the upper overlook. He told police that he pulled into a space alongside a black Honda, where a young man and woman were presumably exchanging pleasantries. Tired, Mr. Merino drew his baseball cap down over his forehead, shut his eyes and began to drift. But before he could accumulate forty winks, he found that he had strolled into the middle of a lunch hour nightmare. The boy from the adjoining car, probably between sixteen and eighteen years old, was banging on the window, startling Mr. Merino back into reality. They shared the same native Spanish even if they did not share the same values. Typical of teenagers from the tenth through the twenty-first centuries, the kid soon was running low on patience.
The Knuckle Preservation Society?
Either to save his knuckles for later in life or because he suddenly remembered he had brought along a weapon in the absence of a human assistant, the impatient kid reached down and raised up a loaded gun. By this time, wide awake and thinking sharply, Mr. Merino had shifted his hulking Suburban into gear. As the victim made his getaway, the impatient teenager shot at him at least twice. If Mr. Merino’s car door was his target, the kid scored a couple of gorgeous bullseyes.
When Mr. Merino described his assailant to cops, they quickly deduced why the kid had brought a piece to the scene. He was not very big, say, five-foot-five, maybe 130 pounds. Shaved head, white baggy tee-shirt and white pants, a profile that swiftly narrowed the primary list of suspects to ten thousand.
Angry, scared and determined, Mr. Merino decided to tail the suspect and his woman companion in their smaller Honda. Driving west on Jefferson, the victim kept the impatient teenager and the girl he may have been trying to impress in his sightlines until reaching the intersection at Overland. At that point, the Honda disappeared into a crowd of cars. Mr. Merino turned and headed for the Police Dept. to tell ‘em what he almost had for lunch.
