Savage Son. Corey Mitchell
there!” she shouted frantically. “The killers might still be inside their house!” She was frightened to tears and was determined that her husband not join the list of fatalities.
Cliff Stanley had not cared about the possibility of a shooter or shooters still hiding out inside the Whitaker home. Regardless, he continued holding the temporary bandage on Kent’s gushing wound.
Kent then looked up at his neighbor and said, “Cliff, they really could be inside there. I don’t want you getting shot.”
Cliff snapped to and realized that both his wife and Kent were right. He needed to get the hell out of there. But instead of fleeing, Cliff decided he needed some protection of his own. He went to get his shotgun.
“I’ll be right back, Kent.”
Cliff darted up from his wounded neighbor and bolted back toward his home. He went inside, determined to find his weapon, which he did. He began to load the shotgun with bullets when his wife stepped in front of him. She was scared.
“If they pull up,” she said in reference to police officers, “and they see you with that shotgun, they’ll probably shoot you, too. They might think you are the one who shot the Whitakers.”
Cliff knew his wife was right. He felt so frustrated. It seemed as if there was nothing he could do for his friends. He decided it was best to put down his own weapon; however, he knew he had to do something. Instead, he returned back to the Whitakers’ front porch and attempted to comfort Kent.
Cliff then heard the screech of police sirens.
The whole scenario took less than ten minutes. To Cliff Stanley, it seemed like a lifetime. “Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion,” he recalled.
Sugar Land police officer Kelly Gless was the first to arrive at the scene. He slowly exited his vehicle to assess the situation. He was very cognizant of the fact that the shooter or shooters might still be in the house or in the nearby vicinity. Officer Gless noticed Cliff holding a bloody shirt up against Kent Whitaker.
“Sir, could you please step away from that man?” Gless asked Cliff.
“I’m their next-door neighbor. I found them like this,” Stanley assured the officer.
“That’s fine, sir,” Gless responded. “I need for you to step away from that man, and please stand on your driveway.”
Cliff immediately complied, looked at Kent one more time, then retreated back to his yard.
More police cars pulled up onto Heron Way. The revolving lights on top of the vehicles intermingled with the red, green, and white Christmas decorations throughout the neighborhood. It looked like a spinning holiday season kaleidoscope.
Darlene came out of the house to join her husband. Cliff began to pray out loud so Kent could hear him. Cliff and Darlene clutched each other and worried about their newfound friends.
An ambulance pulled up to the location immediately thereafter. The emergency medical technicians (EMTs) jumped out of the truck and quickly examined the scene. The prognosis was grim, especially for Tricia Whitaker. One of the EMTs phoned in a request for a Life Flight helicopter. Tricia would need immediate surgical attention at the nearby Memorial Hermann Sugar Land Hospital. Her chances of holding on were slim.
3
December 10, 2003, 8:20 P.M.
Sugar Land, Texas
“All units, we have a reported shooting [on] Heron Way in the Sugar Lakes Subdivision,” the voice over the dispatch called out to Sugar Land police officer Kelly Gless. Though Gless was actually patrolling in District 1 of Sugar Land, and Heron Way was located in District 2, he realized he was very close to the district line. The six-year veteran relayed that he would head for the scene.
When he arrived at the address, Gless was surprised to be the first police officer on the scene. He spotted a man on the front porch of the house, frantically waving his arms at him. Gless cautiously exited his vehicle and approached the front porch. As he worked his way up the walkway to the front, he noticed an injured woman lying on her stomach in the doorway. She was moaning and in obvious pain. The man was clutching his right shoulder, which was bleeding.
Officer Gless then looked inside the foyer and saw the body of a young man. At first, there did not seem to be any movement from the young man, but then his arm began to twitch spasmodically. That stopped and the arms rested, outstretched. Gless could see that the young man had suffered some sort of serious chest wound and had bled profusely.
“Help my wife,” Kent Whitaker pleaded with Officer Gless. “Please help my wife.”
Gless directed his attention to Tricia Whitaker. She was gasping for air.
“Ma’am, have you been shot?” Gless asked the barely coherent mother.
Tricia was not able to respond to the officer.
“Ma’am, have you been shot?”
Again, nothing.
Since Gless was on the scene by himself, he was at a distinct disadvantage in case the shooter or shooters were still inside the residence or on the premises. Instead of barreling into the house and chasing down the shooter, Gless determined his safest bet was to wait until help arrived. He then left the front porch and took cover behind the hedge at the front of the porch.
“Unnnnggghhhh!” A terrible moan emanated from the young man in the foyer. Gless knew he needed to summon help for the boy and the woman immediately. He grabbed his receiver and put a call in for a Life Flight rescue helicopter. It was only a matter of time before it would be too late.
“Please, Officer. I have another son inside,” Kent Whitaker cried out to Officer Gless in reference to Bart. “He went inside after the shooter, and I haven’t seen him. Please, please check on him.”
Gless motioned to Kent to stay still and to be quiet.
Eventually Gless was joined at the Whitaker home by two more police officers. After their arrival, even more officers appeared. They were able to create a three-man search team to enter the house to see if they could locate any survivors, any more victims, and/or the shooter or shooters.
Officer Gless stayed outside to secure the perimeter around the Whitaker home.
One of the three men on the search team was Phillip Prevost, a fourteen-year veteran who had spent his last seven years with the Sugar Land Police Department (PD). When he got the same call for a shooting at 8:20 P.M., he took off, Code 3, which means with “lights and sirens.” He hurried off to the scene, but he turned his siren off by the time he reached the freeway. He did not want any criminals to hear his approach. He then pulled into the Sugar Lakes Subdivision and headed toward Heron Way. He turned all the lights off on the cruiser as he got closer to the house. He then parked his car three houses down the street and ran toward the Whitaker residence. (It is Sugar Land PD protocol not to park directly in front of a location where a shooting has occurred so as not to become one of the shooter’s next victims.)
Officer Prevost spotted Officer Gless. He glanced over and caught sight of Kent Whitaker, who was apparently standing up by this time. Provost then spotted Tricia Whitaker. He could hear the blood gurgling inside her chest and throat. Prevost then spotted Kevin Whitaker inside the house. He approached the house to see if he could help the young man.
Officer Prevost was aware that the fire department had probably been called. They would not enter the house if there was a chance that an armed shooter could be inside. Prevost knew the people lying down in their own pools of blood needed immediate medical attention, so he went about clearing out the house in order to assure the fire department.
Prevost walked up to the front door, with his gun drawn. He glanced down at Tricia Whitaker and precariously stepped over her prone body. Once he got inside, he also had to straddle Kevin’s body to make any forward progress.
Once Prevost made his way past Kevin, he spotted a small table in a living area. It was dark inside