What began as a routine, even quiet, summer day at City Hall quickly turned into a scene of mayhem and tragedy. After a morning spent tackling constituent casework at my district office, I headed to Manhattan with my legislative aide, Erica, who briefed me on the agenda of the upcoming City Council session. Arriving at City Hall Plaza, we cheerfully approached the security checkpoint, where, after greeting the officers on duty, we passed through unchallenged (more on that later) and proceeded into the majestic Council Chambers of City Hall.
After the ceremonial presentations that kick off each meeting were completed, a group of adorable little girls from the Bronx all dressed up in fancy dresses and tiaras were being escorted out when, suddenly, a series of loud sounds reverberated throughout the room.
Total chaos ensued. Someone was shrieking “Gun, gun, he has a gun!” While people around me dove for cover, ran frantically and crawled helplessly in hopes of escaping, I froze for a moment, trying to make sense of the state of panic that had abruptly seized the room. After what seemed like an eternity, but was really only a second or two, one of the security personnel yelled at me to drop to the floor. I immediately obeyed. Amidst shouts and screams of “Get out!” a group of us was directed to crawl out a side door into the committee room off the main chamber. During the seemingly interminable time it took to get out of harm’s way, I confess that I truly feared for my life.
Upon entering the room that was to serve as our haven for the next two hours, I am embarrassed to admit that I turned and stood in the door, gazing in horror at the surreal scene in the chamber. To his credit, a police officer yanked me by the shirt collar and roughly shoved me into the room. He then stationed himself at the head of the room and, in a booming voice, demanded that nobody leave. (We didn’t need much convincing.) By that time, the cacophony created by the chorus of wailing sirens, the helicopters chopping through the air, and the pounding footsteps of the SWAT teams barreling into the building seemed to shake the very floor under our feet.
Concerned that my wife may have already heard the “breaking news,” I immediately called her and was able to reassure her that I was O.K. After the initial shock wore off, we all stood at the windows, gawking at the drama unfolding below in City Hall Plaza. Police officers in helmets and flak jackets, brandishing submachine guns, were jumping over fences and bushes and running into the building. Dozens of police cars and emergency personnel were converging on the scene in rapid succession. People were streaming out of the building, running in all directions.
After a while, reports began to filter in that Council Member James E. Davis of Brooklyn had been shot, and eventually we were told that his wounds were fatal and that he had, tragically, passed away. Sobs broke out in the room as we tried to absorb the shocking news that our colleague was gone, cut down in the prime of his life, and that this calamity had taken place in the seat of our city government, in what is, for us, our daily workplace.
Eventually, the building was secured, and my fellow Council members gathered together for a briefing by Mayor Bloomberg and Speaker Gifford Miller. After being interviewed by detectives, we were finally allowed to leave. I cannot describe the sense of comfort and relief that I experienced upon entering my home and seeing my wife and children. The fragility of life and the importance of thanking G-d for all that we have were lessons that were driven home
by the traumatic events that had transpired, but are ones that we should remember each and every day.
A few words about James Davis: My friend and colleague was an outgoing and gregarious individual who truly loved his job. He considered it his life’s mission to serve the people of his district and improve the quality of their lives. Ironically, his personal crusade, undertaken years before he was elected to the council, was an anti-violence project for his community.
Last summer, James and I traveled to Israel along with Speaker Gifford Miller and a group of our colleagues on a mission to support Israel. James strongly supported Israel’s right to defend herself and asked many questions at our briefings that stemmed from a sincere interest to comprehend the situation accurately. Councilman Davis’s district included a large section of Crown Heights and he had an excellent working relationship with the Jewish community there. I wish to offer my condolences to his family and hope that the memory of his passionate commitment to the people of our city, and the many lives he touched, will be a source of comfort to them.
Many questions have been raised about security at City Hall. It is important for everyone to realize that the security personnel stationed there are consummate professionals who do an excellent job. The problem arose from the fact that the courtesy of bypassing the “metal detectors” extended to Council members and City Hall staff was sometimes expanded to include their guests, resulting in the supreme irony of the victim escorting in his assassin. Mayor Bloomberg and Speaker Miller have decided that exceptions will no longer be allowed, and each and every individual entering the City Hall area will undergo the full security screening – a decision that is entirely appropriate and with which I wholeheartedly agree.
In closing, I would like to acknowledge the hero of the day, then-officer, now Detective Richard Burt, a friend of mine who is usually stationed at the entrance to City Hall. Detective Burt is to be commended for his extraordinary bravery and quick thinking in averting even greater loss of life.
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