The first bullet from Kenna's Glock pierced the front passenger window but didn't shatter it, leaving a spiderweb of cracks in the glass. The bullet screamed down past Danny and Keshon, missing them by inches, and lodged near the bottom of the drivers door.
"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" Danny shouted as he put up his hands. Now everyone was alert, diving for cover, curling up for protection.
The Caravan bumped into the police car and started it rolling down a slight grade. The cruiser came to a rest about 100 feet away.
Kenna cleared the glass from the cracked passenger window with his flashlight. Danny was lying down to shield himself, but Kenna would say it looked as if Danny were trying to reach for something, or even get into the driver's seat, which Keshon had just vacated. Danny, only a few feet from Kenna, begged him not to shoot again.
"The van's not in park!" Danny shouted. "Stop shooting!" But as he leaned toward the driver's seat and reached for the gearshift, two bullets ripped into his right arm.
"Please don't shoot!" he begged. Still reaching for the gearshift, he pulled himself forward by grabbing the steering wheel and turning it. A third bullet hit beneath his left shoulder. A fourth entered his right hip. Blood pooled on the passenger seat in a heap of glass shards.
At curtis high, many of Keshon's passes wound up in the hands of a skinny, mocha-colored forward one year behind him, a Puerto Rican with Division I skills but a soft side that frustrated his coaches. Danny Reyes had caught the attention of recruiters, who invited him at age 11 to join New York City's elite amateur team, the Gauchos. He was a 1995 honorable mention McDonald's All-American, and of the four young men in the van that April night, he had the best chance of succeeding in basketball.
"He was such a quiet kid, almost to his detriment," says Richard Potter, the assistant coach at Curtis who first saw Danny play in CYO leagues. "He had long arms, he could put it on the floor. I wanted to get him fired up. He could have been an Ail-American."
But fired up wasn't his nature. The son of a retired policewoman and a retired truck driver, Danny is the youngest of four children in a close Christian family. Once when a brawl erupted in a hallway at Curtis, with seven or eight guys throwing haymakers, Danny was the peacekeeper, pulling bodies away until guards arrived. He still has the Good Samaritan certificate awarded him the next day.
After helping Curtis repeat as champion in 1995, Danny graduated and went with his parents to Puerto Rico for the summer, where he played in the professional Superior Basketball League. "I hoped it was the start of something big," he says. When summer ended, he moved back to New York to live with his sister in Queens.