A sudden flash: the John Skaggs incident

American Handgunner, Jan-Feb, 2005 by Massad Ayoob

Situation: You're trying to calm a man believed to have a knife, when suddenly he's on top of you with metal flashing in his hand ...

Lesson: Training pays dividends when the timeline between survival and death is razor-thin ... and, sometimes, razor-sharp.

John Skaggs was a police officer in East Moline, Ill., at a time when the community had a population of 50,000 people, and 56 taverns, many of which were open from 6 a.m. to 4 a.m. It was a tough town. The graveyard shift, midnights, was "burglaries and bar fights" for East Moline cops.

It was a time when "officer survival" training had just become a buzzword in law enforcement. Not all cops were on board with the concept then, but Skaggs certainly was. He was an assistant professor teaching judicious use of deadly force in a local police training program, but not yet a firearms and tactics instructor. Of all the officers on midnight shift, he alone had bought a snatch-resistant holster, a Smith & Wesson Security Plus. Few of his fellow patrol personnel were into guns or practicing on their own time, and John frequently wound up with their practice amino allotment added to his own. He had put finger-grooved Pachmayr Professional grips on his department issue Smith & Wesson Model 10.38 Special service revolver, to make it fit his hand and point better. He rigorously practiced quick draw, popping the Security Plus' safety strap with his thumb as he rocked the gun forward to clear its trigger guard from the securing niche and then whipping the muzzle up on target. He had learned to fire the instant the barrel came into line with the threat.

The Melee

On the night in question, the call came in as a routine bar fight. The location was a block outside of Skaggs' patrol sector, but he was the closest to the scene so he guided his squad car immediately in that direction. He was the first to arrive. Backup officers would soon pull in behind him.

"Two guys went outside to fight," he was told, and Skaggs quickly discovered that one of the men in question had been stabbed eight times. "I thought he was just punching me," the wounded man moaned. Skaggs nodded: that was common. Soon emergency medical personnel had arrived to whisk the wounded man to the hospital. Those emergency medical service professionals, and the surgeons at the hospital, would save the victim's life that night. John and the other cops were now able to turn their attention to finding the perpetrator.

A bar patron pointed out that man. John patted him down, but found nothing. Other officers were asking customers what they had seen, and one witness said that the man had gone into the men's room. There they found large quantities of blood in the sink, where someone had apparently washed it off his hands, but a thorough search of the public bathroom turned up no weapons of any kind.

Emerging back into the main area of the bar, they were met by another patron who pointed out two men and a woman. He told the officers, "The guy with the knife was with them." Someone said the man who had done the stabbing had given the knife to one of the trio. Skaggs mentally registered a medium-tall female, a man of average height, and what struck him as a "man-mountain" who stood approximately six feet ten inches tall and weighed some 325 pounds. The three were about to slip out the front door. Skaggs shouted to another officer just arriving, "Larry, stop them, we need to talk to them."

Skaggs and Officer Larry Hubbard approached the trio, and ushered them into a V-shaped alcove at the entranceway to the bar, where they hoped they could talk quietly. Hubbard took the average sized man to interview, while Skaggs spoke with the giant.

The man seemed reluctant to cooperate. The bar was still crowded, and Skaggs was aware that a stranger had come up behind him. That made him nervous, and he turned edgeways to keep an eye on him. He was now within arm's length of the six-foot-ten suspect. Always diplomatic, Skaggs told the tall man politely, "You're not in trouble. We just need the knife in evidence. Your buddy's the one in trouble. Just give it to me, and give me your name and address."

"I don't have it," the giant answered, towering over Skaggs.

Then the man who had moved in behind Skaggs blurted, "He's putting it inside his wife's shorts."

The cop was already on a high alert status, but now he went to a Day-Glo shade of Condition Orange. Not only was the uncooperative man nearly twice his size, but now there was reason to believe he was armed with a weapon that had already tasted blood tonight. They were within arm's reach of each other, and if the man had heard what the witness said ...

The Shooting

There was a swirl of movement in the dimly lit alcove. Skaggs swept the woman out of the way with one arm, pushing her out of knife range and out of his own line of fire.

He saw a glint of metal in the giant's right hand, sweeping up toward him. What happened next was pure reflex.

Earlier in the week, Skaggs had put in a long session at the range on his own time, practicing fast draw to the shot with his service revolver and the security holster. His right hand carried out that movement now, running purely on long-term muscle memory.