Blink

“He’s got a gun!” And he starts firing. McMellon falls backward
and starts firing — and a man falling backward in combination
with the report of a gun seems like it can mean only one thing.
He’s been shot. So Carroll keeps firing, and McMellon sees
Carroll firing, so he keeps firing, and Boss and Murphy see
Carroll and McMellon firing, so they jump out of the car and
start firing, too. The papers the next day will make much of the
fact that forty-one bullets were fired, but the truth is that four
people with semiautomatic pistols can fire forty-one bullets in
about two and a half seconds. The entire incident, in fact, from
start to finish, was probably over in less time than it has taken
you to read this paragraph. But packed inside those few seconds
were enough steps and decisions to fill a lifetime. Carroll and
McMellon call out to Diallo. One thousand and one. He turns
back into the house. One thousand and two. They run after him,
across the sidewalk and up the steps. One thousand and three.
Diallo is in the hallway, tugging at something in his pocket. One
thousand and four. Carroll yells out, “He’s got a gun!” The
shooting starts. One thousand and five. One thousand and six.
Bang! Bang! Bang! One thousand and seven. Silence. Boss runs up
to Diallo, looks down at the floor, and yells out, “Where’s the
fucking gun?” and then runs up the street toward Westchester