Introducing
Your new presentation assistant.
Refine, enhance, and tailor your content, source relevant images, and edit visuals quicker than ever before.
Trending searches
Pulitzer Prize Winner 1999
"The year was 1990, and the robbers were never caught.
Mr. Grehl, who is white, dusted off a gun he had inherited from his father, a .32-caliber Beretta automatic, seven shots in the clip. He started bringing it to work, loaded, in a holster behind his back. He vowed to use it if he had to."
"He drops the phone, steps forward, drawing his pistol.
The robber, two steps from the cash register, turns to face him.
Four feet apart, their eyes meet, fleetingly. The robber whips out his gun and begins to raise it.
Mr. Grehl jerks his Beretta to eye level and fires.
Seconds later, Tony Williams lies face down on the floor, next to a dusty stack of Yellow Pages and a shelf filled with tonics and cough syrups.
He is dead, a single gunshot wound to the head."
FONTS
This story is about Dennis Grehl, a pharmacist at Reford's Pharmacy in Detroit, & his encounters with armed robberies at the shop.
It is also about Anthony (Tony) Williams, a man who's mother didn't know how much trouble he was really in or what it could lead to.
"Get on the ground," a man holding a gun screamed. "I'll blow your heads off if you move."
Dennis Grehl and a co-worker complied. Dreamlike, he found himself lying face down on a cold, gritty black-tile floor, a pistol against the back of his head.
"Mr. Grehl is a pharmacist, unassuming, mild mannered. A family man with a wife and a daughter.
He was being robbed. He works in the Redford Pharmacy, a small neighborhood place in northwest Detroit. It's been around forever; the kind of place that delivers."
*
"Beyond the buzzer and the panic button and the no-working-alone rule, employees no longer linger at the pharmacy much after 6 p.m. All five watch out for each other on the way to their cars.
Mr. Grehl had the extra burden of dealing with his robbery. He had replayed it thousands of times in his head, second-guessed himself, had nightmares about it. But it was always there, in the back of his mind.
He kept thinking how he would react if it happened again. He remembers running through scenarios, enacting "3,000 dress rehearsals in your mind."
The first words out of his mouth: "Give me the money, bitch!"
He flashes a gun tucked under his shirt.
Mr. Grehl tries to be philosophical. "I can't say I'm glad I did it -- kill somebody," he says. "But I'm glad it didn't turn out the way it could have."
But will it ever end?
Not long ago, a teenager Mr. Grehl didn't know entered the pharmacy alone. She asked: "Is this the place where the shooting was?"
Mr. Grehl replied: "Yes."
The girl said: "I just wanted to see who killed my baby's daddy."
She was out of the store before her words could sink in.
1999 Tom Hallman Jr. The Oregonian, Portland, OR
For his unique profile of a man struggling to recover from a brain injury.
1999 Eric L. Wee The Washington Post
For his moving account of a Washington lawyer whose collection of postcards helps to preserve his memories of a fleetingly happy childhood.