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After dressing, he found what he would need to assure him of success, two semi-automatic handguns. A 9 mm Glock in one hand and a .357 caliber Sig Sauer at his side would comprise the protection he needed. His heart pounded as he nervously loaded the guns and anticipated the trip to the Nashville's Regions Bank. His eyes darted nervously back and forth taking one last look to make sure he had everything, and he reviewed his plan in his mind. He had previously cut a hole in the fence leading to his escape route behind the bank to the near highway. Everything should work just fine. Although he was nervous, his criminal history emboldened him. He covered his dark hair with a hat and left for the bank.

Suddenly, loud cracks echoed through the quiet woods. The flash of gunfire followed by the deafening barrage that rang out in quick succession was instantaneous. From inside the bank and out on the street everyone heard the sickening pop, pop, pop, pop of the robber's gun. A bullet ricocheted and hit Terry's thick boot grazing his heel and dropping him immediately to the ground. Stunned by the unexpected pain, Terry felt as though someone had hit his foot with a sledge hammer, and he reeled back as bullets splashed into standing puddles and splattered mud wherever they hit. The suspect fired continuously at Terry and Aron as they instinctively ducked for cover. The man refused to be taken.

by Marilyn Jeffers Walton