Here’s how.FINDING LEVERAGE IN THE PREDICTABLY
UNPREDICTABLE
At exactly 3 p.m., Griffin gestured toward one of his
hostages, a twenty-nine-year-old teller named Margaret
Moore, and told her to walk to the glass bank doors.
Petrified, Moore did as she was ordered, but first cried out
that she was a single parent with a young son.
Griffin didn’t seem to hear her, or to care. Once the
weeping Moore made it to the vestibule, Griffin shot off two
blasts from his twelve-gauge shotgun. Both of the heavy
rounds struck Moore in the midsection, violently blowing
her through the glass door and almost cutting her body in
half.
Outside, law enforcement was stunned into silence. It
was obvious that Griffin didn’t want money or respect or an
escape route. The only way he was coming out was in a
body bag.
At that moment, Griffin walked over to a full-length
bank window and pressed his body against the glass. He
was in full view of a sniper stationed in the church across
the street. Griffin knew quite well the sniper was there;
earlier in the day he’d shot at him.
Less than a second after Griffin’s silhouette appeared in
his scope, the sniper pulled the trigger.
Griffin crumpled to the floor, dead.