The True Story of My Life #7 (Hostage Situation Pt. II)

My guitar was lying in the middle of the dining room floor. I had last played the night before, sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, next to an acoustic corner.

I picked up the guitar and then he wanted us to go back to the same bedroom so he walked behind us with the gun.

One of us had to use the bathroom and asked him if she could go and he said yes, but that we all had to go in together. It was a small bathroom with a screenless window by the tub. Once we were in the bathroom, Shirina quickly motioned for us to stand up against the wall, away from the door. I think she was worried he was going to shoot through the door. I saw the window as an escape and motioned, asking them with my lips if they wanted to try it and they shook their heads no. I would have tried the window myself but they were worried he would hear the window opening or catch us midway. And while Monica and I were petite, I'm not sure that Shirina would have fit. There was no shoot-out. He directed us back to the bedroom.

I chose a chair rather than sit on the bunkbed. I was afraid to sit in the chair and have my legs exposed, and to single myself out in that way, but I felt better when I held the guitar against my chest. I asked him if there was a song he wanted me to try to play and he said to play whatever I wanted. So I tried and nothing came out. Like a bad dream, I opened my mouth to sing and there was no noise. I was too scared even though I think I appeared to be calm. I coughed and said my throat was dry and that I needed some water. But I swallowed a few times and tried again and began to sing. I was so nervous I missed some notes, but after the first verse, I began to relax. I sang the song: Jesus, Name Above All Names.

The strangest thing happened, because as I played and sang, I lost my fear and at the same time, for the first time, the gunman became nervous and seemed to be losing confidence. I felt a peace and calm come over me. It was like there was a transfer of power at that moment. I could feel the change and see it with my own eyes. I sang another song that I had written and both Shirina and Monica were either watching him or me and sitting very still, and Monica was praying.

He just stood there, his gun down, and knife down, and came across to me as very nervous, sort of wanting to pace but not pacing. He suddenly must have recognized he was influenced and snapped back into a directive mode, and said firmly, "I have to finish the job." He said we were going to go into the next bedroom and told me to stop playing. I saw Shirina's eyes widen.

I felt he was trying to take control of the situation again and didn't say anything and we went into the next bedroom. He started going through the closet and things in that room and pulled out underwear and made derogatory comments about it. He was sort of targeting Shirina and told her he wasn't going to have her dress up, just me and Monica. Shirina, meanwhile, was making mental notes of his height, weight, a tatoo she spied on his arm (I believe) and other identifying characteristics. He kept saying he had to finish the job and we were going to go someplace.

I asked him about his family. He was married and had kids. He made some comments about her and I used it to follow up with another question to keep him talking. The more he talked, the less he focused on what he was doing. He said, "I don't know why I chose this house." He said we were a bunch of "christians" and he wished he hadn't chosen this house. I asked him if he went to church or what religion he was. I always looked him in the eye. I tried to speak to him as if he was no threat, but a potential friend. He kept talking and said he used to go to church when he was younger but not anymore, and he talked about family problems. I told him he could come to church with us sometime if he liked, and I told him that if he wanted us to, we would pray for him too, right then and there. He said yes, he wanted us to pray for him.


to be continued...