Steve Jackson, ex-Westword staffer, threatened in crime spree: "Drop the f*cking phone"

Steve Jackson is singularly qualified to recap at least part of a crazy Jefferson County crime spree involving a couple busted on charges including robbery, vehicle theft, burglary and attempted murder. A former Westword staff writer (here's his author page), Jackson is a crime-book author of national renown -- and his account of what happened, shared on his Facebook page, is as vivid and exciting as expected. See it along with photos, video and details below.

See also: George Roloff, guilty in bizarre crime spree, inspired by fears of witchcraft?

According to 9News, the incident got underway around 2:40 p.m. yesterday, when a man and a woman identified as a juvenile traveling in a Ford Crown Victoria were pulled over by a Jefferson County deputy.

The man handed over his driver's license, but as the deputy was checking it, he hit the gas and took off.

The deputy didn't immediately pursue owing to Jeffco's car-chase protocol, which seeks to avoid such incidents unless it's determined that members of the public are endangered -- and such evidence surfaced about half an hour later. That's when the couple allegedly carjacked another vehicle, a blue Subaru, and split, only to crash the car shortly thereafter.

This mishap led to another: The couple is said to have swiped a white truck from a home on the 26000 block of Centennial trail, then wrecked it as well.

By this point, the pair were being tracked not only by a legion of Jeffco authorities, but also by a local media helicopter. However, Jackson got a closer view of the action -- because the young woman knocked on his door, beginning a sequence of events that didn't end until he was facing the business end of a rifle.

As Jackson tells it, he had returned home after losing not one but two softball games and was working around 3 p.m. when "a young woman with a bad wig" knocked on his door. Jackson wasn't initially taken aback either by her appearance (such occurrences are "not unusual in my life," he notes) or her story, which involved an auto crack-up. However, his suspicions began to bubble up when he asked where the accident had taken place and she was unable to tell him. Instead, she asked for a ride on behalf of her and an injured boyfriend and offered him cash to drive them.

After the woman testily asked, "Are you going to help us or not?," the boyfriend appeared; Jackson describes him as a "scraggly looking MF with prison tattoos on his arms." The man was holding his ribs with one hand and hid the other behind his back as he said, "Please, sir, please, help us, I'm injured."

In response, Jackson writes that he pulled out his phone and announced he would call 911. That's when the man whipped out an AR-15 Bushmaster, pointed it at Jackson's head and said, "Drop the fucking phone. Drop the fucking phone."

Instead, Jackson, who was not especially interested in being "taken hostage or murdered," slammed the door and ran into the house. He had the option of heading to his bedroom, where he stored an 870 Remington 12-gauge, or his garage. But when he heard the stained-glass window in his front door shatter and realized how long it would take him to ready the weapon, which was sheathed and unloaded, he opted for the latter destination and dialed 911.

Moments later, the dispatcher told Jackson the couple had been seen elsewhere in the vicinity -- and indeed, they were captured separately in the Lookout Mountain area after 4 p.m.

As for Jackson, he came through unscathed and with a fresh tale to tell when promoting his next book: "BOGEYMAN, coming out on August 5!!" Afterward, while imbibing at a local watering hole, he was filled with anger -- but not for the most obvious reasons.

"I still am FUCKING PISSED that we lost two games," Jackson concedes. "I should have shot the fucker out of spite. Next time I will."

Continue to read Jackson's unedited Facebook account of his experience and see raw helicopter footage of the pursuit. Steve Jackson's Facebook account:
Another day in the life ... Sheesh. First my team loses BOTH of our softball games this morning but I'm home alone working about 3 p.m. when a young woman with a bad wig knocks on the door (that in itself is not unusual in my life). She claims that she and her boyfriend were in a "car accident" and need a ride to the Denver area. I live in a community in the mountains west of Denver, not much in the way of strangers up here. So I ask this young woman in the bad blond wig, "Uh where's the crash." To which she responds, "I don't know I'm not from around here," a might testily I might add for someone seeking help. She begs for my help, offers cash. I tell her I'll call a towtruck if she can just tell me where this crash occurred. Again she is clueless (I dont think it was the blond wig), but says, "Please just give us a ride, I'll give you cash. My boyfriend is hurt." At this point the "boyfriend" who is out of sight at the bottom of the stairs leading to my front porch yells, "Please please help us, sir please, i'm hurt." Badwig girl then says (a bit testily again) as I get my phone off the counter, "Are you going to help us or not?" (FU you little troll, my team just lost TWO games, I am not in a mood to be trifled with). I say that no, I'm not driving her and her mystery boyfriend down to Denver. At which point, he (i.e. scraggly looking MF with prison tattoos on his arms) semi-emerges from around the corner at the base of the stairs and, holding his ribs with his right hand behind his back says, "Please sir, please, help us, I'm injured." At which point I hold up my ancient LG flip phone that I love nearly as much as Winkie the Wonder Dog and say, "Oh, then I'll call 911." At which point he suddenly produces an AR-15 Bushmaster, points it at my head as he starts to advance up the stairs while saying, "Drop the fucking phone. Drop the fucking phone." Now I went through a lot of trouble to get a refurbished LG flip phone after I drowned my first one, so no way am I dropping my fucking phone, nor am I about to be taken hostage or murdered without doing something. So I slammed the door on Bigwig Girl and her ugly boyfriend with the big gun, and took off for the back of the house. Sorry Winkie who is bravely running in circle barking but its every man for himself. I reached the point in the house where I can go upstairs to the master bedroom where I have an 870 Remington 12 gauge or downstairs through a passageway to the garage. At which point I hear the stained glass window in the front door shatter. Numbnuts apparently doesn't realize that I didn't lock the door when I slammed it and is not trying to reach through to unlock the already unlocked door. Unfortunately because of young children in the house who I have not yet educated about firearms, the shotgun is sheated and unloaded. I decide that there's not enough time for the gunfight at the Okie Dokie corral, and leap down the stairs and run for the garage where I call 911. Several tense moments pass before the 911 operator tells me that the suspects have been seen a few blocks away and that I am "probably" safe to emerge from where I have hidden my self in a corner behind several bicycles and a piece of bullet-proof cardboard. Oh, the operator tells me that the house is surrounded and to lay low in case the SWAT team comes in guns ablazin I ask her about the percentages on "probably" and don't get a response. Winkie is now quiet and I assume they've murdered my dog. Can this day get any worse? But as it turns out said Ugly Gunman and BadWig Girl have high-tailed it and will later be captured after carjacking five other cars which they wrecked. Now I have a problem. First my stupid softball team lost two games. I fucking hate that. Next, I have a car I hate and should have let them have the keys if I knew they were such bad drivers. Then I call my girlfriend and tell her about what happened and she says, "They broke the stained glass window! The fuckers." "Uh, but I'm okay." "Good because I would have had to replace the carpet because I'd never be able to get the blood out." Then I have to tell the story to a dozen cops and I'm getting hungry and therefore cranky. And I'm realizing that if I'd allowed myself to be taken hostage, I might have had a book in this, as it is it's just a news story." Then, after this interview with the local news, I realized I missed a chance to promote my new book (BOGEYMAN coming out on August 5!!). But I did go to my local watering hole where the story was good for a few rounds of free drinks to all those impressed with my escaping skills (I ordered several really nice The Macallan and Tres Anos tequilas (I asked that out of respect for what happened not to refer to them as "shots" but "small samples.") So that was nice. But I still am FUCKING PISSED that we lost two games. I should have shot the fucker out of spite. Next time i will.

Here's raw footage of the pursuit from 7News.

Send your story tips to the author, Michael Roberts.

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Michael Roberts has written for Westword since October 1990, serving stints as music editor and media columnist. He currently covers everything from breaking news and politics to sports and stories that defy categorization.
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