End of Watch Tuesday, October 19, 1982
Steve Taylor was smart, with a 3.9 GPA. But he was also funny and fun-loving. He had been a Pensacola Police Officer since December 1979. He loved the job, but he felt it wasn’t a natural fit for him. Steve was a math whiz – he loved numbers. He and his wife Suzanne had made their minds up a few weeks ago for him to go back to school to become an engineer. His plan was to resign in three months.
The Freedom Savings and Loan was located on the northwest corner of Palafox and Gregory Streets, in the middle of downtown Pensacola. The Tuesday afternoon of October 19, 1982, was a picturesque day. The sun was brilliant, and the temperature was in the upper 70s – perfect. Being a patrol officer in weather like that was great. Officers often roll the window down and let in the fresh air. Inside, though, was a different story.
Alarm calls are tricky. In one shift, an officer might respond to five or six, making them very routine and sometimes tending toward boring. But the potential of danger is there for every one of them, so officers must make themselves retain their awareness. On this one, Sgt. Emory Castro, who was working at the desk sergeant’s office, took the call. He, as always, transferred the caller to Dispatcher Mike Flores who put it out over the radio.
The alert tone sounded – three beeps. Once everyone’s attention had been acquired, Mike Said “0-23 (armed robbery), silent, at the Freedom Savings and Loan, 201 north Palafox St.” Officers Larry Bailly, Steve Taylor, Franco Sidoti and T. C. Miller radioed that they were responding[1].
Larry arrived first, with Steve right behind him – both at the front door on the east side of the building. Larry, a salty veteran, had been through a lot. When Steve began working on his shift, Larry took him under his wing. Steve looked up to him as a big brother, a mentor of sorts.
The other officers, Sidoti, Miller, Joe Spirakis and Paul Muller arrived shortly thereafter. The procedure was for officers to arrive and radio in the location that they were covering. When all exits were covered, Larry, the officer who arrived first, instructed the dispatcher to call inside and have an employee meet them outside. So far so good – looks routine. What wasn’t good were the goings-on inside the bank…
Janet Pearce lived in Mobile, Alabama, about 50 miles away. At 12:50 PM on the same day as the robbery in Pensacola, Janet was getting into her 1978 Buick Regal when twenty-four-year-old Clarence Hill and eighteen-year-old Cliff Jackson came up behind her and stuck a gun in the middle of her back and demanded she surrender her car. Terrified, she let them take the automobile. It was a horrendous experience for her, but not for Hill and Jackson. Hill and Jackson were neighbors. Hill, out on bond and awaiting trial on two robberies, had spent the day with Jackson drinking beer and getting high with marijuana and cocaine. When they decided to go joy riding, they went in search of a car to drive. After searching for keys in cars, they happened to notice a young woman headed for her car. As soon as she got in, they approached her and pulled her out of the car at gunpoint. Then they drove away, leaving her standing in the road.
An hour later, the duo arrived in downtown Pensacola in the stolen Buick. After parking on west Chase Street, they made their way a block north on foot and entered the Freedom Savings and Loan. The lobby was filled with people as the two armed, sunglassed men walked in. When they announced their intention to rob the bank and showed their weapon, an alert teller pushed the silent alarm. Hill jumped over the counter and put his gun to the head of one of the tellers.
Hill and Jackson were not known for their intelligence. While making extensive plans for the robbery, neither man thought to bring something to carry the money in. So, they quickly grabbed two trash-can liners and filled them with the ill-gotten gains. Then they exited through different doors. Clarence left through the west exit while Cliff exited out the east side front door to Palafox Street.
As the officers on the Palafox Street sidewalk were waiting for the employee to contact them, the door opened. Instead of the employee coming out, though, a young man appeared with a cap and sunglasses and carrying a bag. Larry ordered him to the ground. Startled at the police officers with guns drawn on him, he complied. Steve bent down to handcuff him.
When Hill walked out onto Gregory Street, he didn’t see his partner. He walked to the corner in a hurry. When, seeing the policemen taking Jackson into custody, he approached them in a cowardly manner from behind and fired twice into Taylor’s body[2]. The first bullet entered his body under his armor into his back, pierced his lung and passed through his aorta. The second bullet entered his chest near his sternum. Hill’s next shot struck Officer Larry Bailly in the neck. Bailly felt a sting in his neck, but returned fire, emptying his gun at Hill, who was “twisting and dancing” to avoid being shot. He was hit by Bailly.
Steve got up, staggered toward the street, then got on the police radio to report that the men had run. The only thing that came out of his mouth, though, was a painful whimpering noise. It was the last sound he would ever make. He collapsed on the street as his comrades ran to his aid.
As he was running away, Clarence Hill ran northeast across Palafox Street and to the corner of Wright Street. It was then that Sgt. Paul Muller, racing to the scene, saw a man with a gun and a bloody shirt crossing the street. As Hill rounded the corner of Palafox and Wright Streets and went to the back of the corner restaurant, the Dainty Dell, Sgt. Muller got out of his car and took aim at Hill. When Hill saw Muller, he turned to him, threw the gun down, and raised his hands in surrender. Then he collapsed. Sgt. Muller approached him at gunpoint and called for nearby responding firemen to tend to his wound.
Meanwhile, Officer Bailly struggled with Jackson. When Jackson finally broke free, he ran around the north side of the bank and headed west between the buildings. Officer T. C. Miller shot him, but he kept running. With a bullet in his abdomen, Jackson made his way to the Big Ten tire store on the next corner and, to steal it, crawled into an automobile. Bad move – first, the auto wouldn’t start. Second, bleeding liberally, Jackson collapsed and was subdued by an employee, a customer, and Officer Pat Adamson. Both criminals were taken into custody, along with the $6703.00 they had stolen.
Larry returned to Steve to check on him. As he did, he noticed something wet on his uniform[3]. When he looked, he was surprised to see that it was blood! He checked himself over and discovered that he had been shot in the neck. In the confusion, Larry had responded like the soldier he was. Even though he was shot in the neck, he emptied his six-shot revolver at Clarence Hill, striking him four times. He then wrestled with Cliff Jackson long enough for other officers to arrive and stop him from escaping. Then Larry went back to check on his buddy. All of this was done before he tended to his own wound.
In the next few moments, many things happened fast. LifeFlight helicopter was summoned and arrived on Palafox Street, Larry and Steve were tended to with the best care available, the criminals were taken to the police station, and the scene was taped off while investigators attempted to piece together what happened.
Suzanne’s tears couldn’t find their way through the shock…yet. That would come later. A joke? Disbelief? This could not be happening. Yet, there was Franco Sidoti, a partner and good friend to she and Steve. And the look on his face told the story. She stared in his eyes for hope, for comfort, for…anything. But all she could gather from the strong young officer was fear, confusion and hurt.
The scene in the emergency room can only be described as hopeless chaos. Beyond the traffic jam of police cars in the parking lot, a sea of light blue police uniforms blocked the entrance as the police car carrying Suzanne, the newest widow in Pensacola, arrived. As Suzanne got out, all eyes were on her and all talking stopped. The crowd parted like the Red Sea parted for Moses and the Children of Israel. Every eye – some with tears – showed the same helpless pain. They couldn’t help her or to make the situation better.
After three days of testimony from police officers, witnesses, doctors, and the co-defendant, Clarence Hill and Cliff Jackson were found guilty of premeditated and felony first degree murder. The jury further recommended that Hill die in the electric chair. On May 27, 1983, Judge Barfield sentenced Hill to die for his deeds. Justice at work, but it didn’t bring Steve Taylor back.
On Wednesday, September 20, 2006, Clarence Hill was declared dead at 5:11 PM, eleven minutes after the lethal injection process began. Steve Taylor would have been 50 years old. His widow, family, friends, and fellow officers had to wait 24 years – 8766 days – for the day to arrive.
Rest in Peace, Steve.