Transcribed and published in black and white, the shooting tape didn’t read like much, but listening to the gunfire and the screams was electrifying. Trish had inadvertently pushed the record button in the excitement seconds before the shooting. Incomprehensible shouts and curses from the two men. Muffled sounds as though someone was running or had dropped the recorder. Then pop-pop-pop, the unmistakable rattle of gunfire. A shrill scream that had to be Trish. “No! No!” from Trish. “You killed me!” an anguished cry from one of the men. More gunfire. Seven more shots. Groans, moaning. “Oh, my God!” from Trish. “Somebody call the police!” Gasps, fumbling sounds, then nothing, as Trish apparently turned off the recorder as she ran for help. She had a cell phone in her car. “Nine-one-one operator.” “This is Trish Tierney.
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