She typed in the information and started the search. It came back with thirteen hits and I asked her to bring up the first one. It was dated April 7, 2000, and reported events from the day before.
ONE COP DEAD, ONE HURT IN HOLLYWOOD BAR SHOOTING
By Keisha Russell
Times Staff Writer
Two Los Angeles police detectives on a lunch break and a bartender were gunned down in a Hollywood bar yesterday when a man entered the establishment and attempted to rob it at gunpoint.
The 1 p.m. shooting at Nat’s on Cherokee Avenue left Detective John H. Dorsey, 49, dead of multiple gunshot wounds and his partner, Lawton Cross Jr., 38, in critical condition with head and neck wounds. Donald Rice, 29, a bartender working in the lounge, was shot multiple times and also died at the scene.
The suspect, who wore a black ski mask, escaped with an undisclosed amount of cash from the cash register, said Lt. James Macy, of the Officer Involved Shooting unit.
“It appears this was about a few hundred dollars at most,” Macy said at a press conference staged outside of the bar where the shooting took place. “We can find no reason for this guy to have started shooting.”
Macy went on to say that it was unclear whether Dorsey and Cross had attempted to stop the robbery, thereby causing the shooting to start. He said both detectives were shot while sitting in a booth in the dimly lit bar area. Neither had drawn his weapon.
The detectives had been conducting an interview in a business near Nat’s bar when they decided to take a lunch break in the bar, according to Macy. There was no indication that either man had been consuming alcohol in the bar.
“They went there as a matter of convenience,” Macy said. “It was the unluckiest decision they could have made.”
No other patrons or employees were in the bar at the time of the incident. A person who was not in the bar saw the gunman fleeing after the shooting and was able to provide police with a limited description of the suspect. As a safety precaution the witness was not identified by police.
I stopped reading to ask the librarian if I could simply print the story out.
“It’s fifty cents a page,” she said. “Cash only.”
“Okay, do it.”
She hit the PRINT command and then leaned backwards in her seat to see if she could see down the aisle to the reference desk. Standing, I could see it better.
“You’re still clear. Can you do one more for me?”
“If we hurry. What is it?”
I raced through my memory banks trying to come up with a name that would work for what I wanted to do next.
“How about the word ‘terrorism’?”
“Are you kidding me? Do you know how many stories that word’s been used in during the last two years?”
“Right, right, what am I thinking? Let’s cut it down. The search words don’t have to be connected, like in a sentence, right?”
“No. Listen, I need to get back to my -”
“Okay, okay, how about the words ‘FBI’ and ‘suspected terrorist’ plus ‘Al Qaeda’ and ‘cell’ spelled with a ‘c.’ Could you try that?”
“That will probably break the bank, too.”
She typed in the information and we waited, and then the computer reported that there were 467 hits, all but six of them since September 11, 2001. Beneath this number the computer printed out the headline of each story. The screen displayed the first of forty-two pages of headline listings.
“You’re going to have to look through this yourself,” Mrs. Molloy said. “I need to go back to my post now.”
I had started the last search almost as a joke. My assumption was that Parenting Today would either interview Mrs. Molloy after I left or send another agent while he continued the tail. I wanted to add a terrorism angle to my search just so they would have something to puzzle over. Now I realized I might be able to find out about what the bureau was doing.
“Okay,” I said. “That’s fine. Thanks for all of your help.”
“Remember, we close the library at nine this evening. That gives you about twenty-five more minutes.”
“Okay, thanks. Where did that printout go, by the way?”
“The printer is at the front desk. Anything you print will come out there. You come to me and pay for it and I give it to you.”
“A well-oiled machine.”
She didn’t answer. She walked off and left me alone with the computer. I