Bridgeport, Chinatown & McKinley Park

Crime & Mayhem

My Bleak Lunch Break In Chicago: Gunfire, Then Back To Work

June 3, 2016 8:47am | Updated June 3, 2016 8:47am
The shooting happened around 1:30 p.m. Thursday in the 1000 block of West 32nd Place. Police say the would-be victim was standing on the sidewalk when a passenger in a black sedan stuck a gun out the window and pulled the trigger.
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DNAinfo/Ed Komenda

BRIDGEPORT — It happened on my lunchtime march down Morgan Street to satisfy an intense craving for a greasy burger.

Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang

Gunshots. From across the street.

Five fast steps and I dove into the tall weeds of a vacant lot on the east side of Morgan.

Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang

More shots.

The tree. I had to get behind the tree.

Are they done shooting?

Bang-Bang-Bang

On hands and knees, I dragged myself through the grass, pushed myself up and hopped a chain-link fence to find safety behind a brick apartment building.

Ed Komenda recounts his harrowing ordeal when he heard shots ring out.

My heart raced.

Where’s the shooter?

The street was silent.

I peeked around the corner.

Neighbors had started to come outside to look, too.

Was somebody shot?

I reached for my phone. It wasn’t there.

Did someone call the cops?

I could feel hot concrete under my feet. My sandals were gone, too.

Barefoot, I hopped back over the fence into the weeds. I found my phone and slipped my sandals on.

Instincts kicked in, and I made a call. My editor picked up.

I tried to tell him what happened, but could barely spit it out.

Security guards who heard the shots at Armour Elementary, less than a block away, came outside.

The cops arrived next. They found 15 bullet casings in the 1000 block of West 32nd Place, about 60 yards from where I heard the shots on Morgan.

There were too many people out to be terrified despite the terror of those 45 seconds. So I did what so many Chicagoans do after the shooting stops: I went back to work.

For me, that means asking questions.

By the time school let out, I learned there had been an argument. A gangbanger stuck a gun out the window of a car and shot at a rival but missed, hitting a parked car.

I talked to a neighbor sitting on his stoop. He took a long drag on his menthol cigarette and exhaled hard.

"It's summertime," he said. "This ain't nothing new."

He opened his pack of cigarettes and handed me one.

I don't smoke, but I lit up anyway.

It was the worst lunch ever.

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