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Tuesday, May 04, 1993 Page: 3A QUICK WORDS: GUNS REPLACE GALLANTRY
When guns replace gallantry
As officials wrapped up a press conference at Mercy Hospital detailing the
results of one domestic dispute, another troubled relationship was sizzling on
the street right outsideA used black Grand Prix idled in the hot sun as a
woman held open the door and leaned into the passenger side. Exchanging heated
words, the woman’s body language indicated that blows might be forthcoming at
any moment.
Just minutes earlier, Luzerne County District Attorney Peter Paul
Olszewski, Jr. had thanked the press for coming and stepped away from the
microphones.
It had been a long night for Olszewski and other police officials assembled
at the hospital. They had spent about 15 hours Sunday and Monday trying to
convince George Russ to release his 8-year-old son and surrender without
bloodshed.
Russ and his wife had separated, she had the kids and Sunday was his
visitation.
Russ and his guns, however, had not separated.
And violence prevailed.
During the press conference following Russ’ autopsy, police said the
44-year-old apple farmer had threatened to kill the child and himself and
eventually opened fire on police, hitting a state trooper twice with a .44
Magnum handgun.
Troopers returned fire.
Struck twice, Russ then placed his pistol in his mouth and blew off the top
of his head, police said.
With the child safely returned to the arms of his mother, the dust settled
on another domestic dispute remedied by the civilian use of a traditional
American handgun.
After Monday’s press briefing, a tired and edgy Olszewski left the hospital
and walked almost immediately into another squabble between husband and wife.
“Is that an assault?” asked Olszewski, turning to Chief Detective Mike
Dessoye and First Assistant DA Dan Pillets who looked up the block at the
developing disagreement.
Things looked tense.
Dessoye quickly headed across the street and hustled around the back of the
car.
eaching inside, he placed his badge under the male driver’s nose,
identified himself as a police officer and appeared to snatch the car keys
from the ignition.
When the man reacted, Dessoye grabbed the man’s left wrist, bending the
elbow back toward his neck.
Opening the door, Dessoye helped the man from the car and turned him
around.
The man seemed stunned and put his hands on the roof of the car.
“He’s my husband, hey, he’s my husband,” said the woman, who had rushed
around the back of the car. “I’m late for work and I’m just bitching at him.
Let him go.”
“What’d I do? I didn’t do anything,” complained the man, who asked Dessoye
for his name.
The officer told him, shrugged and moved away as Olszewski, Pillets and
state police Capt. Frank Panuccio stared at the souped-up car with the baby
inside.
A set of little pink booties kicked back and forth from a car seat on the
rear passenger side. The child, wearing a little knit hat to match the
booties, was oblivious to the ruckus.
Obviously, domestic disputes aren’t always resolved as easily.
And, although the woman actually blamed herself for what occurred on a
public street between her and her husband, it didn’t much matter whose fault
it was.
What matters is that relationships are complicated.
George Russ might have once dressed his son in knitted booties and dropped
his wife off at work with a kiss.
Then the marriage vows crumbled.
Guns meant more than gallantry.
Promises to honor and cherish turned venomous as something that once seemed
so nice went terribly, terribly wrong.
And yesterday, watching a young married couple argue in the sun as George
Russ’ corpse lay in the hospital morgue just across the street was enough to
send chills up your spine.
Steve Corbett’s column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday.