Another fellow and I were in a Seven Eleven store. Beside the store was a garage for a filling station. A man who looked as if he were a motorcycle guy walked into the store and stood at the front of the store. He kept watching everyone in the store. I finally concluded that he was casing the store and was intending to hold it up. I slipped through a side door into the garage and told the fellow with me to come on in. I said, "I think this store's about to be held up."

I went to a phone and started to use it, but instead, I put it back down. I then walked out to the front of the store, where I saw a couple more motorcyclists. They were wearing black leather jackets with designs on the back identifying the motorcycle gang they were in. One of them had a rifle in his hand. I said to my companion, "Come on, lets get out of here. They're gonna hold up the store. We gotta go."

We got into a car and started driving off. I heard one of the men at the store yell something about a bomb, and it was clear they were now holding up the store. I heard someone say, "Are you crazy? You can't put a bomb in here."

I thought they were going to blow up the store. As we drove once around the block, I said to my companion, "Come on. We've got to find a telephone and call the police."

We drove on down the street until we saw another garage which we thought might have a telephone. We got out of the car and walked in. We told the man inside about the holdup and asked if we could use the phone. He said, "Sure."

I picked up the phone and dialed the operator. I said, "Operator, connect me with the police department. It's an emergency."

She answered, "Is this Steve Collier?"

I couldn't understand how she knew my name, but I responded, "Yea."

I thought that when I had picked up the telephone at the first garage, I must have told someone my name. The operator continued, "Well, I can't do that."

She had a Spanish accent. She absolutely refused to connect me with the police department, even when I told her it was an emergency, that a holdup was taking place. She was ridiculous, continuing to refuse to give me the number. Finally, I slammed down the phone and began trying to find the number in the phone book.

I then noticed Duesler (a law student) sitting there. He said he would try. He picked up the phone and called the operator. He said he needed the number of the police department, but he acted as if it was for a different reason. He acted as if there had been a ball game, and he was calling the station to report the score. The operator gave him the number. I gave Duesler a pen and he wrote down the number. We then called the police department and told them about the robbery. I asked someone what the name of the street was where the Seven Eleven was. It sounded as if the person said it was on Tims Street.

I wanted to drive back to the robbery scene to see what had happened. What a grizzly sight it would be if we saw several bodies strewn around the place.

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