It was a Saturday night in Pensacola—one of those nights when the air hangs heavy, and downtown still hums long after the sun has gone down.
The corner of Intendencia and Palafox wasn’t quiet. It never was. People moved between storefronts and cafés, voices carried in the night air, and the glow of electric lights spilled out onto the sidewalks.
Then came the sound.
Five sharp cracks—close together. Not everyone recognized them at first. Some thought it was a car backfiring. Others knew better. But within seconds, there was no doubt. A man had been shot.
A Man Falls in the Street
Garvin Hoots, a 33-year-old automobile salesman, staggered and fell onto the pavement—half on the sidewalk, half in the street. Witnesses would later say he never had a chance.
Four bullets struck him in the chest. One more hit his leg. He was rushed toward the hospital, but the damage was already done. He died within minutes.
And just like that, a busy downtown street became a crime scene.
“Catch That Man!”
The shooter didn’t stay. He turned and ran – south on Palafox Street. What happened next is something rarely seen today…people gave chase.
Witnesses pointed. Voices shouted. One man later said he saw the suspect running, and as he passed, a pistol fell from his pocket onto the ground. Others saw him cut behind the post office—vaulting a wall in an attempt to disappear into the darkness.
But he didn’t get far. Within minutes—less than fifteen—police had him. He wasn’t hiding…He wasn’t fighting. He was sitting in a café just two blocks away. His name was Eddie Johnson.
A Street That Would Not Forget
Back on Intendencia Street, the crowd lingered.
There is always a moment after violence—after the noise, after the panic—when everything seems to pause. The street was still there. The storefronts still lit. People stood in small groups, speaking quietly, trying to understand what they had just witnessed. Five shots were fired in the open, in front of everyone.
It wasn’t random, and it wasn’t chance. This had started somewhere else.
The Question
Why would a man walk up to another in the middle of downtown Pensacola and fire five times? By the next morning, police would have an answer, and it would begin with a simple statement: “I don’t like rats.”
Coming: Part Two, “I don’t like Rats.”
About the Author
Michael Earl Simmons is a retired Pensacola Police Sergeant, former homicide detective, and recognized historian of crime in Northwest Florida. He is the creator of Sweet Tea Murders, where Southern history meets the darker side of human nature.