I could see where the gunfire was coming from but it had finally stopped, so I didn't bother trying to get over to it or anything. I was relieved that it had stopped and my heart beat started to finally slow down.
I stood up from behind the van that I was behind, and just looked around the parking lot to see if there was anybody hurt.
As I was looking around, I happened to notice a man lying in the middle of one of the aisle ways, so I quickly ran over to him.
When I got to him, he was lying on his side. So, I rolled him onto his back and I saw right away that he was shot in the shoulder and unconscious but he was still breathing.
I lifted my head in relieve and seen a lady on her cell phone. I could hear what she was saying on the phone and by the way it sounded, she was talking to a 911 operator. So I yelled, "Excuse me! Miss! Lady on the phone!"
She quickly spun around towards me and I waved for her to come over to me.
When she got close enough, I asked her, "Are you okau?"
"Yes!" she said with a panicked tone in her voice and tears going down her face.
"My name is," I started to tell her, "Detective John Grizzley."
"OH! Thank god! You are a cop." She interrupted me. "Is it over?"
"Yes it is," I answered. "Just calm down. What is your name?"
"My name is Jennifer," she replied.
"OK, Jennifer! Who are you on the phone with?"
"Can I talk to them for a minute, please?" I asked her.
"Yes, of course," she answered me in a calmer voice as she handed me her phone. "Is this man dead?"
"No," I answered. "He is just unconscious, but he was shot in the shoulder."
"OH, good! I mean, not good that he was shot but good that he is still alive," she replied in a very nervous tone.
"Hello!" I said into the phone, "Is this a 911 operator that I am talking to?"
"Yes this is," the person on the other end replied.
"I am Detective John Grizzley," I began to say, "of the Toronto Police Department. Badge number 4725. There has been a shooting at the supermarket on Queen Street. Multiple shots fired. As far as I can see only one person has been hurt. He was shot in the shoulder and is unconscious."
"Okay," the 911 operator replied, "I will send assistance right away, Detective."
"OH MY GOD!" Jennifer interrupted, "you have been sot, too!"
Right at that very second I could feel the burning in my right side. I quickly looked and I saw the blood on my shirt. My heart started to race, right away. I lifted my shirt to see the wound. One of the bullets graced me but it still burned really, really badly.
The 911 operator heard what Jennifer said and asked, "Are you okay, Detective? I heard the lady say that you were shot."
"Yes, I was shot, but I am okay," I replied. "One of the bullets only graced my left side."
"The police and ambulance are on their way, Detective," the 911 operator continued. "I told them that you were shot as well. They should be there any minute."
"Okay! Great! Thank you," I said as I hung up the phone.
He drove to the post office and parked in one of the parking spots in front of the building. He turned towards the briefcase so that he could check to make sure that it was locked so that there was no way anybody could open it or that it would just fall open for everyone to see what was inside of it.
"I am going to have to put you in a box or something," he said to the briefcase. "Because they will definitely want to look to see what is inside of you."
He got out of the car, without the briefcase, and went into the post office to see on what he could find to put it in.
He walked around the post office for a couple of minutes and wound up buying a box, some tape, and some styrofoam to make sure it didn't move around very much.
Once he bought the stuff, he went back out to the car, put the briefcase in the box, placed the styrofoam around it and then taped the box closed.
Once he had the box nicely closed, he got back out of the car and went back into the post office with the box.
When he got up to the counter, he placed the box onto the counter. "What can I do for you, Sir?" the Clerk asked.
"I would like to send this to a friend of mine."
"Okay!" The clerk replied as she grabbed the box to put it on the scale. "This box has a little bit of weight to it. It will likely cost quite a bit to send."
"That is no problem," he replied. "It is a gift."
"Where is it going?"
"To New York City," he answered.
The clerk then put the postage stamp and the address on the box and then put it in the back with the rest of the parcels.