We had lights from patrol vehicles and it was almost a full moon. Eventually our eyes adjusted to a mowed pasture of eight-inch high stubble by a farm house. Then came a five-hour emotional roller-coaster confrontation in that field leading to a face to face negotiation involving me and ranger Johnny A. We’re about ten feet apart, with Robert P pointing the gun toward me and Johnny alternately. Johnny and I are 90 degrees from each other to him. He’s got to turn his head from one to another. So if he tries to engage either of us he’s got to do it one at a time. Hopefully one of us can get a shot off.

He’s talking about his gal and “what a no-good bitch she is”

I interrupt him and say, “is this the woman you plan on spending the rest of your life with?”

He says, “hell, no!”

“Then, why are you letting her win?”

He’d said he wanted to see his brother, to make his peace. This was a very suicidal sounding prelude to a suicide by cop. At one point Robert P said he was going to make it to that farmhouse. Johnny who was standing between Robert P and farmhouse said, “Partner, that ain’t going to happen.” Whereupon the guy sat down.

He stops and thinks about what I said.

He turns to Johnny and says, “do you have a gun?” Johnny, who is six or eight feet from him at this point on other side of a fence, looks at him and says, “no.”

Robert P turns to me and asks, “Do you have a gun?”

I said, “Yes, I do.”

And he starts to get real pissed off

I say, “Wait a minute. I’ve not lied to you yet. I’ve been standing out here with you for five hours. Yes I’ve got a gun. I may be stupid, but I ain’t no fool.”

He starts laughing. We all start laughing. With that he gets real quiet. I look at Johnny, Johnny looks at me. We both figure, Oh boy, here it comes. He’s probably going to level that weapon at me first which will give Johnny an opportunity to take him out.

All of a sudden at 12:47 am he raised the muzzle of the shotgun up, racked six live rounds out onto the ground, then put the gun down.

“I did this joke, saying, ‘If I can’t beat the guy up, I’d sue the bastard.’”

From the audience came a yell. “Hey, Jew-boy!”

In a beat the comic replied, “Listen, pal. I wouldn’t need my lawyer for you, OK? Knock it off.”

Again came the taunt, “Jew-boy!”

It was a hot moment as the comic turned to him, “You know, look at the size of you, you big Aryan man you. I’ll be honest with you. You’d probably kick the shit out of me. There’s really nothing I could do. And, yet, I feel bad for you, because I know that’s not somethng you learned in college, how to hate Jews. So it must be something you learned at home around the dinner table. Your father, working for a rich Jewish man, saying ‘Jew, Jew, Jew, Jew-boy’. Yeah, you’d kick the shit out of me.”

As the comic scanned the audience his eyes settled on a table of black students.

“Hey you black dudes out there! If he hates Jews, you know what he thinks about you guys. Would you take that shit? ” With their attention riveted on him, he asked, “Could you do me a favor? Will you escort this asshole out of here?”

“You got it, brother!” came the reply.

The black students stood up as a group of ten and turned to the taunter. One of them said, “Get your motherfucking ass out!”