"Officer down. Officer down," called out the voice of the frantic dispatcher. "Report of officer down just east of the intersection of FM 1960 and 1383. Shooter sitting away from road to the south. Proceed with caution."
"Suzie, I'm down the road three miles. Car 1250 responding," said Sergeant Dillon.
She turned on her lights and floored the police interceptor. As she sped down Farm-to-Market road 1960, she quickly scanned from side to side for children, balls, bikes, school buses and whatever may leap into her path.
11:15 a.m. Four more major roads. It seemed to be taking an eternity. Around one more bend and she could start to see what she's up against. Past Firebreak Road. Past the Cowboy Church. A line of cars were forming. "Shit," she said aloud.
The oncoming lane was open so she pulled into the lane and chirped her siren as she drove down the wrong side of the road. Afraid someone would decide they had waited long enough and turn into her lane, she drove as far to the left as she dared.
The Sheriff's car was ahead of her in the median and she could see the officer lying in the road near his car. His left foot was swinging from side to side on his heel.
"Oh, no! No, no, no," she said and slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop. She scanned the side of the road and spotted the assailant at the treeline leaning against a tree. She removed her weapon from the holster and exited the car.
"He's in the trees. Over there. Over there," said the man that ran up beside her car frantically gesturing with his arms. He crouched beside her car taking shelter from the gunman. "I was too afraid he'd come back. He's still there. Do you see him?"
"Yes, yes. How long ago did this happen?" asked Dillon as she took cover beside her car as well.
"11:11. I looked at my phone just before I called 911."
"Was he alone?"
"Yes. I didn't see anyone else."
"Stay here and yell at me if he moves."
"What?"
"I've got to check on my...., my fellow officer. Stay behind the car."
11:17 Dillon grabbed her radio. "I'm at the scene. What's the eta on the bus and backup?
"Less than 5."
She turned toward the fallen officer. Grateful to see his foot still moving. "Officer Dillon, can you hear me?"
"Kimi?" he responded weakly.
"Yes, Dad. I'm coming," she answered and then scampered across the gap separating their cars. She knelt beside him and looked him over. He was pale and bleeding badly from two lower abdominal wounds.
"The bus is on its way," she said scooting closer to and brushing the hair off his sweaty forehead.
"Honey, I'm sorry. I'm not going to make it," said her father still with his eyes closed.
"Don't talk like that. The bus should be here any minute. Just keep wiggling that foot," said Dillon, trying to maintain her composure.
She looked around for something to use to slow the bleeding. She saw a fresh uniform from the laundry hanging in his car. She ran to the car, taking a quick look at the assailant, grabbed the uniform and came back.
"Going to have to get these cleaned again," she said while she worked at providing pressure on his side right side with her knee and her hand on his stomach.
"Tell everyone I love them. And tell your Mom, I'm sorry. I know she always worried this would happen. I love you, Kimi," whispered her father. He took two quick gaps and stopped breathing.
"No, no, no, no. Dad keep breathing. Hold on the bus is almost here," said Dillon as she held the blood soaked shirt in her hands up against her father's lifeless body while the blood soaked into her pant legs. She'd seen enough gun shots and blood loss to know when it's over, but in her heart she couldn't admit it.
"Come on Dad," she urged him as she started chest compressions.
"That guy's moving around," said the man as he scurried up beside Dillon.
"Shit! Come on," said Dillon as she started mouth to mouth.
"Let me take over," said a young woman in scrubs that knelt beside Dillon. "I'm a doctor. You go be a policewoman."
"Take care of him. He's my father," said Dillon as she relinquished CPR duty to the woman. "I can't let this guy get away."
Dillon crawled over to her father's patrol car and looked through the windows and observed the assailant still leaning against the tree. She could hear the high pitch of the sirens begin to drown out the counting of the compressions going on behind her.
Pulling out her radio she said, "The assailant is south of my car, unit 1250, at the treeline. I'm approaching from rear. I think he's wounded but I'm not sure. I'm going in."
The dispatchers and others chartered on but she ignored them for now. He was her focus this man that wounded her father. She planned her approach from behind him. She took her weapon out and ran across the open expanse feeling like a rabbit in a carnival shooting gallery. She ran in a zigzag pattern hoping to make it harder for him to hit her if he tried to shoot.
She was close enough to hear him crying a bit but could not get a clear view of whether he was armed. She would assume he was. She got down on a knee and aimed at him.
"Conroe police. Give me a reason to shoot you," she said.
"I, I need an ambulance, I'm bleeding," said the man twisting his head a bit to try and see her.
"Keep facing forward. Throw you're weapon to your left, now," said Dillon.
The gun came flying out to his left and landed with a thud.
"Anything else? Knives?"
"No, ma'am."
"Good, now lay on your stomach spread eagle, now."
"I can't. I can't move."
"I will shoot you. On the ground now," she said with a infuriating slight quiver to her voice.
He cried out as he leaned over on his side and then his stomach.
She watched him for a moment, rose, circled him and dropped a knee into his back. Ignoring his cries of pain, she holstered her weapon and quickly cuffed him.
"You're under arrest, mother f***er, for the murder of as police officer, my father, Sheriff Anthony Dillon."
She rolled off him and scampered away. Not wanting to touch him or be near him. The sobs finally breaking loose. "You, you have the right to, to...."
"Dillon, I've got him. I've got him," said a fellow officer that ran to the cuffed man. He began reciting the Miranda warning to her prisoner while she fought to hold it together while glaring at the man bleeding on the ground just like her father had been. But he was alive and only because she had managed not to shoot him.