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Will the jury say he went too far?

For nearly three years, since he struck a robber with his SUV, Lawrence Storer has waited to be tried. Now reality's sinking in.

By COLLEEN JENKINS
Published July 31, 2006

TAMPA - The lunch crowd at Sumos Thai is more likely to debate ordering peppered garlic saute or the green curry than whether the man serving the steaming dishes is a vigilante.

That suits Lawrence Storer just fine.

Dressed in a silk shirt, khaki shorts and clean white sneakers, he works the cozy room as energized as the swinging jazz music piping in. He takes orders, serves food, refills drinks, brings checks, wipes tables and repeats the process as many times as the eight tables turn over.

Don't go into a cocoon. Don't hibernate, his attorney warned him. Don't drive yourself crazy.

For nearly three years, Storer has adhered to that advice. But in recent weeks, as his trial for manslaughter drew close, the horrifying possibility of losing his freedom stubbornly crept into his mind.

In the quiet moments, when the hungry patrons were gone and the next lunch rush was hours away, the thought robbed him of sleep.

Which is how he found himself awake at 1 a.m. last Tuesday, running on a treadmill.

Storer, 35, is a businessman, a chef, a husband and a father.

Today, he is the defendant in the case of State of Florida vs. Lawrence Emery Storer. A quick decision the night of Oct. 29, 2003, brought him that unthinkable distinction.

He was in the midst of late-night remodeling at the restaurant. As he rested in his car, a man approached and demanded money.

Shantavious Wilson had a gun, which later turned out to be a pellet gun. When Storer said he had no money, Wilson forced him into the restaurant and took $15 in cash.

Storer got away and dialed 911. Wilson took off on foot.

Then the restaurant owner jumped into his 2001 Ford Explorer to look for Wilson. Spotting Wilson on Polk Street, Storer drove the wrong way down the street and swerved into Wilson's path, striking him.

The 24-year-old Tampa man died at the scene. Surveillance cameras near the federal courthouse captured part of the chase. Police found no skid marks near where Storer hit Wilson.

The case drew strong gut reactions. Some people thought Storer was justified; others said he took his pursuit too far.

The case goes to trial in a climate that has become increasingly pro self-defense. Gov. Jeb Bush recently credited rightful gun owners with helping to lower crime rates, and a new law that took effect last fall removed a citizen's duty to retreat and avoid confrontation before resorting to deadly force.

Margie Boyette's grandson, 23-year-old Justin Boyette, walked onto a Winter Haven man's property unarmed in April and was shot to death. Michael Brady, who said he fired because Boyette threatened to punch him, was the first person cleared by a Polk County grand jury under the new "Stand Your Ground" law.

"We're just letting people kill people for whatever reason they want to," said Boyette, who helped raise Justin in Temple Terrace.

Prosecutors in Tampa haven't given everyone a free pass. They didn't buy the self-defense claim a tow truck driver made to explain the shooting of Glen Rich on Jan. 8; the driver faces a second-degree murder charge.

Some members of the state attorney's homicide committee favored charging Storer with second-degree murder as well. They settled on manslaughter, punishable by up to 15 years in prison.

For the first time in his life, Storer had a criminal record.

He had grown up in St. Petersburg, the son of an American father and Japanese mother. The family business was food, and Storer spent his boyhood around the restaurants where relatives worked as head chefs and waiters.

At 16, he began washing dishes at a Japanese steak house in St. Pete Beach. After graduating from Northeast High School, he trained as a teppan chef.

A decade in San Francisco followed. Storer mastered the art of flipping hot shrimp from the flaming grill to his chef's hat in front of hungry audiences. His forehead is still scarred by burns from stray pieces of flying rice.

Fittingly, he met his wife, Jintana, at a Thai restaurant. They decided to buy a downtown Tampa sushi bar from friends and turn it into a place of their own.

"The best time to meet people and greet people and see people is when you're feeding them," Storer said.

Life was clicking along. Jintana had a baby girl in January 2003. The couple named her Jasmin, after the rice served at Sumos Thai but with no "e." Storer wanted his daughter to have a connection to the restaurant.

Then came Shantavious Wilson.

Storer guesses Wilson had plenty of reasons to target the small business. The city street light in front had been out for weeks, Storer said. The business had been advertising expanded dinner hours, so people were around after dark.

The restaurateur didn't know it then, but Wilson had a history of criminal activity. He had robbed a woman at a MacDill Avenue laundry in 1998 and been arrested on suspicion of carrying a concealed firearm and performing a lewd act on a child.

Storer said he doesn't hold a grudge. When a patron leaves without tipping, he said, "I just kind of write it off."

But when he saw what looked like a gun, Storer thought his life might be over. His lawyer, John Fitzgibbons, wouldn't let him talk about his thoughts or what happened beyond that point.

When he was charged, Storer tried to stay strong. He smirked in his jail mug shot. He returned to work, where some patrons felt inclined to offer opinions about what they would have done.

The case was set to go to trial in February 2005, then got delayed by an appeal. Fatigue set in. He stopped biking and running and gained 40 pounds. His body ached from stress.

Some things take time to become real. Storer had experienced that when his father died. On July 4, his current reality hit him.

"I was thinking about my independence, my freedom and my fate lying in other people's hands," he said last week, during a late-afternoon interview inside his restaurant.

"There's so much pressure on someone facing charges," Fitzgibbons said. "It's hard to plan for the future because they don't know if they're going to be in prison."

Storer said he had no special plans for the weekend. He expected to relax at home, surrounded by reminders of all the things he stands to miss if convicted this week.

His daughter's fourth birthday in January. His 13-year-old stepson's football games. His pleasure of three Krispy Kreme doughnuts and two glasses of milk in one sitting.

A reporter tried to ask: Did Storer wish he had acted differently?

Fitzgibbons' hand flew into the air like a school crossing guard stopping traffic. Some things are better left for jurors' ears.

Colleen Jenkins can be reached at cjenkins@sptimes.com or 813 226-3337.

[Last modified July 31, 2006, 01:28:31]