slickdawg
12/10/2006, 08:59 AM
http://www.clarionledger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061210/NEWS/612100386
For 10 years he'd labored over this place like a man with no options.
Then the summer of 2006 came. Crime seemed rampant.
Curtis Addison's Gallatin Street auto body shop was burglarized. To protect it, he began to sleep there. He kept a gun in his pocket.
And now here he was on a warm summertime night, slouched and asleep in a dirty flower-print chair.
Just before midnight, a young man, tall and slim with a scarf hiding his mouth, waved a pistol in Addison's face and ordered him to remove his pants.
Addison awoke. He hesitated. He could not reach his gun. Not like this.
BY THE NUMBERS
Statistics from early November show crime is up significantly over last year in Jackson.
Aggravated assault
Up 25%
Robbery
Up 80%
Homicide
Up 40%
"Please don't shoot me, man," he begged. "I ain't done nothing. I got a daughter I'm trying to live for."
Before long, Addison went against what the experts say to do. He believed he had no choice. He stopped cooperating, and he attacked.
The gunman fired. Five shots landed. Addison bled from his leg, his arm, his hip, his chest and his belly.
But Addison was lucky. His story does not end there. Weeks later, he would be back at work, his accused attacker locked up in jail.
Addison, 46, opened Addison Auto Body a decade ago in a squat cinder-block building, painted stark white and fenced with razor wire.
Early on, he suffered two burglaries. Five years ago, a flood wiped out most of his shop, but he endured.
Then, this year.
On July 4, while Addison was home barbecuing, he said someone stole two scooters from the shop. He feared they'd come back.
That's when Addison, who lives in north Jackson, began to sleep at his shop, his only means of support. He could not afford another break-in, let alone closing his shop to move it somewhere safer.
He kept a rifle under the counter, a two-shot Derringer pistol in his pants pocket. Besides that, he is a big man, a former football player with the kind of body that could easily hurt a smaller man.
So there he was two days after the scooter theft, July 6, in his shop. He fell asleep in that flower-print chair watching the news, his head cocked to the left. He remembers that clearly because that's how he was when the gunman woke him.
"Get up. Get up!" the man yelled. "Take off your pants!"
Addison knew the man wanted his pants because his wallet and keys were in there. No big deal, really, because he kept his cash in his shirt pocket.
But still, Addison did not like the look in the young man's eyes, droopy, mysterious eyes that held no shame. He believed the scarf-faced man meant to kill him.
Slowly, carefully, Addison removed his pants, the skinny young man still yelling.
The robber snatched the pants away.
The Derringer in the pocket skittered across the tile floor.
Addison attacked.
He shoved the gunman but was too far away to tackle him or to go for the big gun he held.
Bang!
A bullet ripped through a pane of glass.
Bang!
Another one tore through Addison's right leg.
The gunman took off.
Addison darted to the office, slumped into a chair, and reached for the phone.
The gunman returned.
Bang! He shot Addison again. Bang! Again.
Addison ran into the snack room and barricaded the door. There was no phone in that room.
His rifle remained under the counter, his tiny pistol in the hall, useless and sitting on the tile.
Addison bled from his leg, his hip, his arm.
He waited.
Silence.
He left the snack room and went to the office phone. He was sitting there when the gunman returned.
He shot Addison twice more. The chest. The belly.
Addison ran to the front counter. He grabbed the rifle, left the pistol.
He stormed into the office with hate in his heart, but the robber was gone.
Addison dialed 911.
All five bullets that hit him went through his body without hitting an organ, an artery or a bone.
Like many trauma victims, Addison said it seemed like it took forever for the authorities to arrive after he called for help.
"It took them so long my ex-wife was already waiting for me at the hospital," he said.
Jackson police Cmdr. Lee Vance said police received the call at 11:47 p.m. and arrived four minutes later.
Jim Pollard, a spokesman for American Medical Response, the ambulance company, said the ambulance arrived three minutes five seconds after receiving the call.
In any case, Addison said he spent only a few days in the hospital, then a couple weeks recuperating at his ex's house, a couple more at home. He cleaned up the blood in his shop but hasn't fixed the bullet holes.
"I had blood everywhere," he said in an interview at the shop last week. "I didn't realize I'd bled like that until I got back here."
He returned to work in August, and said he feels great. The robber did not get the $400 in his shirt pocket, and Addison has changed the locks on his home and his business.
The police seized his pistol and rifle to run background checks. He said he purchased both legally.
The man accused of shooting him, 23-year-old Rodney Mendenhall, is jailed with no bond on an aggravated assault charge. A trial date has not been set.
Since reopening his shop, Addison bought a new pistol, which he keeps in his pocket.
He also got a giant bull mastiff named Mack. He kept the dog tied on a long rope so he could roam the shop.
Recently, Addison found the dog hanging from the rope around its neck, a few inches off the ground.
He said Mack jumped the fence behind the shop, but the rope had gotten tangled. There was no slack left.
Mack choked to death.
For 10 years he'd labored over this place like a man with no options.
Then the summer of 2006 came. Crime seemed rampant.
Curtis Addison's Gallatin Street auto body shop was burglarized. To protect it, he began to sleep there. He kept a gun in his pocket.
And now here he was on a warm summertime night, slouched and asleep in a dirty flower-print chair.
Just before midnight, a young man, tall and slim with a scarf hiding his mouth, waved a pistol in Addison's face and ordered him to remove his pants.
Addison awoke. He hesitated. He could not reach his gun. Not like this.
BY THE NUMBERS
Statistics from early November show crime is up significantly over last year in Jackson.
Aggravated assault
Up 25%
Robbery
Up 80%
Homicide
Up 40%
"Please don't shoot me, man," he begged. "I ain't done nothing. I got a daughter I'm trying to live for."
Before long, Addison went against what the experts say to do. He believed he had no choice. He stopped cooperating, and he attacked.
The gunman fired. Five shots landed. Addison bled from his leg, his arm, his hip, his chest and his belly.
But Addison was lucky. His story does not end there. Weeks later, he would be back at work, his accused attacker locked up in jail.
Addison, 46, opened Addison Auto Body a decade ago in a squat cinder-block building, painted stark white and fenced with razor wire.
Early on, he suffered two burglaries. Five years ago, a flood wiped out most of his shop, but he endured.
Then, this year.
On July 4, while Addison was home barbecuing, he said someone stole two scooters from the shop. He feared they'd come back.
That's when Addison, who lives in north Jackson, began to sleep at his shop, his only means of support. He could not afford another break-in, let alone closing his shop to move it somewhere safer.
He kept a rifle under the counter, a two-shot Derringer pistol in his pants pocket. Besides that, he is a big man, a former football player with the kind of body that could easily hurt a smaller man.
So there he was two days after the scooter theft, July 6, in his shop. He fell asleep in that flower-print chair watching the news, his head cocked to the left. He remembers that clearly because that's how he was when the gunman woke him.
"Get up. Get up!" the man yelled. "Take off your pants!"
Addison knew the man wanted his pants because his wallet and keys were in there. No big deal, really, because he kept his cash in his shirt pocket.
But still, Addison did not like the look in the young man's eyes, droopy, mysterious eyes that held no shame. He believed the scarf-faced man meant to kill him.
Slowly, carefully, Addison removed his pants, the skinny young man still yelling.
The robber snatched the pants away.
The Derringer in the pocket skittered across the tile floor.
Addison attacked.
He shoved the gunman but was too far away to tackle him or to go for the big gun he held.
Bang!
A bullet ripped through a pane of glass.
Bang!
Another one tore through Addison's right leg.
The gunman took off.
Addison darted to the office, slumped into a chair, and reached for the phone.
The gunman returned.
Bang! He shot Addison again. Bang! Again.
Addison ran into the snack room and barricaded the door. There was no phone in that room.
His rifle remained under the counter, his tiny pistol in the hall, useless and sitting on the tile.
Addison bled from his leg, his hip, his arm.
He waited.
Silence.
He left the snack room and went to the office phone. He was sitting there when the gunman returned.
He shot Addison twice more. The chest. The belly.
Addison ran to the front counter. He grabbed the rifle, left the pistol.
He stormed into the office with hate in his heart, but the robber was gone.
Addison dialed 911.
All five bullets that hit him went through his body without hitting an organ, an artery or a bone.
Like many trauma victims, Addison said it seemed like it took forever for the authorities to arrive after he called for help.
"It took them so long my ex-wife was already waiting for me at the hospital," he said.
Jackson police Cmdr. Lee Vance said police received the call at 11:47 p.m. and arrived four minutes later.
Jim Pollard, a spokesman for American Medical Response, the ambulance company, said the ambulance arrived three minutes five seconds after receiving the call.
In any case, Addison said he spent only a few days in the hospital, then a couple weeks recuperating at his ex's house, a couple more at home. He cleaned up the blood in his shop but hasn't fixed the bullet holes.
"I had blood everywhere," he said in an interview at the shop last week. "I didn't realize I'd bled like that until I got back here."
He returned to work in August, and said he feels great. The robber did not get the $400 in his shirt pocket, and Addison has changed the locks on his home and his business.
The police seized his pistol and rifle to run background checks. He said he purchased both legally.
The man accused of shooting him, 23-year-old Rodney Mendenhall, is jailed with no bond on an aggravated assault charge. A trial date has not been set.
Since reopening his shop, Addison bought a new pistol, which he keeps in his pocket.
He also got a giant bull mastiff named Mack. He kept the dog tied on a long rope so he could roam the shop.
Recently, Addison found the dog hanging from the rope around its neck, a few inches off the ground.
He said Mack jumped the fence behind the shop, but the rope had gotten tangled. There was no slack left.
Mack choked to death.