Fleeing man kills officer

Gunman robs bank then shoots officer as she closes in on him

[Times photo: John Pendygraft] Members of the Tampa police tactical response team check an apartment building where DeJesus barricaded himself after robbing a bank and shooting police officer Lois Marrero.

By DONG-PHUONG NGUYEN, GRAHAM BRINK and

© St. Petersburg Times,
published July 7, 2001

TAMPA -- Holding an automatic weapon, the man stood in the breezeway of an apartment complex, his eyes locked on a Tampa police officer running toward him.

As Officer Lois Marrero approached, the man pointed his gun over the roof of a parked car and sprayed her with bullets.

The officer crumpled to the ground without drawing her gun.

"It's almost like he ambushed her," said Daniel Tatum, a car salesman who witnessed the chilling scene as he drove to work Friday morning. "She didn't have a chance."

Marrero

Within seconds, other officers arrived and were greeted with a hail of bullets. One grazed another officer in the thigh. The man then ran into the apartment complex.

The day's tragic events began with a bungled bank robbery about a mile away. They ended with the gunman -- identified as Nester Luis DeJesus -- killing himself inside the barricaded apartment of an innocent bystander. A female accomplice was expected to be arrested on first-degree murder charges.

Police surrounded the building for nearly four hours, fighting through their grief.

Master Patrol Officer Lois Marrero, 40, became the first female Tampa police officer killed in the line of duty.

The bank robbery

The first thing John Silberman noticed was how the bank officer's face turned sheet white. Then he heard the command: "Everyone down on the floor!"

The robber brandished a machine gun at waist level, a strap holding it taut over his right shoulder. Silberman, in the Bank of America at Church Avenue and Neptune Street with his wife, got only a quick glimpse as he got down on the floor.

The gunman wore long sleeves and long pants, a military-style hat and a bandanna pulled up over his mouth and nose. Only his eyes were visible through the small slit.

He moved fast, beelining for the tellers, Silberman said. In a foreign accent, his female accomplice told customers to keep their heads down. "Don't look up," she said.

Polite and mild-mannered, the duo appeared to know exactly what they were doing, Silberman said. On the way out, the robber thanked everyone for cooperating.

It was 10:42 a.m. It was all over in about 30 seconds. No shots were fired and no one was injured. The police are unsure how much money was stolen.

The robbers ran out of the bank just as Patricia Scaife emerged from the front door of the Mortgage Contracting office next door for her cigarette break.

They pushed past her and the man yelled that the bank had just been robbed and he was calling police.

Scaife ran back inside, alerted her boss, who ordered all employees to the top floor. Police were on their way.

DeJesus and his accomplice drove away in a yellow Nissan Xterra. Within minutes, a dye pack exploded, staining the bills. They ditched the money on W Estrella Avenue. Police later recovered it.

DeJesus then dropped his accomplice off at the Crossings apartments on Cleveland Street and Church Avenue and drove to the Regency Apartments at nearby Manhattan Avenue and Kennedy Boulevard, according to police and witnesses. Witnesses said his mother picked him up and drove him to the Crossings, leaving behind his SUV.

Dan Matheny was stepping into his Dodge Dakota at the Crossings apartment complex when DeJesus' mom's burgundy Ford pickup pulled up. Matheny could not see who was driving, but DeJesus emerged from the passenger door. It was 11:02 a.m.

The confrontation

Matheny had crossed paths with DeJesus at the complex during the past two years. Matheny said DeJesus lived there and his mother worked maintenance at the complex. In the past, they had talked politics.

"Hey, Nester," Matheny said to DeJesus.

No reply. DeJesus walked briskly away, head down, eyes forward.

Matheny did not see a gun, but he sensed something wasn't right. DeJesus always said hello to him. The truck slowly pulled away.

"He was in a hurry, but the truck wasn't," Matheny said. "It felt weird, really weird."

About that time, officers in a police helicopter had found the SUV in the parking lot of the Regency. Four officers -- Marrero, Cole Scudder, Gary Mezger and James Zipler -- scoured the area.

Minutes later, Marrero made her way to the Crossings and came face to face with DeJesus, who was about to take an Oldsmobile Cutlass parked in front of him with keys he had stolen from a Crossings tenant.

Justin Castleberry, a car parts courier, was about to make a pick-up at nearby Lindell Volkswagen Honda, when he saw Marrero running across the apartment complex parking lot toward a breezeway.

He also saw the dark-clothed suspect standing still, waiting.

"He just unloaded in her," Castleberry said. "She hit the ground. She never moved."

Marerro, who was wearing a bulletproof vest, was shot three times in the neck and side.

[Times photo: John Pendygraft] A Tampa police officer takes a moment to grieve after learning of Officer Marrero's death.

Within moments, the gunman was stepping toward the body and police cars were screeching up from all directions. With bullets flying at them, police ducked for cover behind their motorcycles, landscaping trailers, any shields they could find.

"We were sitting between the police cars," said Tatum, the passing car salesman who was with a colleague. "We were trying to figure out what to do. He keeps shooting. It's slow motion. Everything was just moving in slow motion.

"The kid that had the gun just didn't care," said Tatum. "He let out two or three bursts after he shot the police lady. He was shooting at whatever was moving."

The siege

On a break from cleaning her apartment, Sherry Williams stepped out on to her first-floor patio a little after 11 a.m. and heard a series of shots: pow, pow, pow, pow, pow, pow. Williams hit the ground and crawled back into her apartment.

Hiding inside, she heard someone trying to break through her front door. It was DeJesus, trying to run from police.

Terrified, she balled up on her bathroom floor. She was too scared to go for the phone to dial 911. Seconds later, a bullet hit her back door.

She mustered the courage and went for the phone. The 911 operator told her to hide, she said. DeJesus ended up running up the stairs to Apartment 226.

"I don't know what would have happened if he had got through my door," said Williams, who also called her mother and her preacher for support. "It sounded like a war out there."

Marrero was sprawled face down, her right leg slightly bent at the knee. A fellow officer kneeled over Marrero's body as police whizzed by, yelling for residents to return to their apartments.

One witness described the first moments as sheer chaos, with officers trying to restore order among panicked residents. All the while, the officer remained with Marrero, her hands on Marrero's back. She shouted for help and cried.

When a police officer called for something to cover Marrero's body, Tom Shindel, a mechanic at the dealership, grabbed a cloth fender cover and gave it to the officer.

Marrero was taken to Tampa General Hospital where she was pronounced dead. At police headquarters, someone lowered the flag to half staff.

At 12:40 p.m., officers unfurled yellow police tape and cordoned off the spot where Marrero died.

A male officer sobbed on the shoulder of another officer. "Let's get them," he said between clenched teeth.

At 12:54, they laid out cones to mark Marrero's last steps.

The end

At 1:15 p.m., a SWAT team member in black clothes and a helmet ran across from the complex with a blond-haired child in his arms. A woman in a tie-dye shirt ran next to him. She took her child when they reached the far end of the yellow police tape. She kept running.

DeJesus' mother helped hostage negotiators plead with her son to surrender.

At 2:45 p.m., four hours after the Bank of America was robbed, a woman walked out of the apartment with her hands up. She was arrested and later identified as Paula Andrea Gutierrez, 24. A minute later, a man walked out with his hands up. He was later identified as Isaac Davis, 26. Police say he was home alone when DeJesus burst in and was not involved in the shootings.

Inside the apartment, police found DeJesus dead.

A police officer gestured with a finger beneath his chin like a gun. "Self-inflicted," officers murmured.

Marrero was the first officer to die in the line duty since Tampa police detectives Ricky Childers and Randy Bell and Florida Highway Patrol Trooper James "Brad" Crooks were killed in a murderous rampage in 1998.

"It's going to be hard to deal with tomorrow morning," Officer Rob Larose said. "It's always on your mind. We'll grieve and go on."

Police spokesman Joe Durkin said the dangers of the job has become a sad reality.

"Our men and women never know what's awaiting them when they round those dark corners or pursue suspects," he said. "Sometimes its tragedy."

- Times staff writers Wes Allison, Linda Gibson, Kevin Graham, Jeff Harrington, Angela Moore, Leanora Minai and Kathryn Wexler and Times researcher John Martin contributed to this report.

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