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Paramedics treat a wounded boy outside the McDonald’s restaurant in San Ysidro as SWAT officers secure the scene. James Oliver Huberty shot and killed 20 and wounded 20 others at McDonald’s, San Ysidro, California. ZUMAPRESS

McDonald’s Massacre

The McDonald’s massacre, sometimes called the McMurder, was an incident of mass murder at a McDonald’s restaurant in the San Ysidro section of San Diego, California, on July 18, 1984. The massacre was carried out by James Oliver Huberty, a 41-year-old former welder from Canton, Ohio. In January, Huberty had moved to San Ysidro with his wife and children, where he worked as a security guard until his dismissal one week prior to the murders. His apartment was located near the site of the shooting spree.

Before leaving for McDonald’s his wife Etna asked him where he was going, Huberty responded, “going to hunt humans”. Earlier that same day he and his family visited another McDonald’s restaurant for lunch, before going to the zoo. While walking around with his wife and two daughters he made the comment to his wife, “society had its chance”.

It was another busy summer’s afternoon at McDonald’s in San Ysidro, San Diego, California. But it was about was to go down as a horrific day in US history. At 4 pm, as families sat eating burgers and fries, a balding man wearing camouflage trousers and a black T-shirt burst in. He was heavily armed. Ready for battle. And all hell was about to be let loose…

‘Freeze!’ he yelled, firing at the crowds of diners and employees.

His bullets killed a 4-month-old baby girl, other children, mums and dads.

The gunman showed no mercy. He told people to lie down or he’d shoot them. Then he shot them anyway. He picked off people outside the restaurant, including two schoolboys who were murdered as they cycled up for burgers.

The killer, who used a shotgun, rapid-fire rifle, and a handgun in his murderous assault, was James Oliver Huberty, 41.

In a siege lasting nearly an hour-and-a-half, he killed 21 innocents and injured many more. Five of the dead were under 11 years old.

His grisly attack finally ended when police snipers fired from the roof of an adjacent building, killing him. Police found piles of bodies inside the restaurant. The windows were riddled with bullets. At the time, it was the worst shooting in the US by a single gunman.

‘It looked like something I’ve never seen before in my life – men, women, little children all shot,’ said San Diego Police Chief William Kollender.

Traumatised survivors (Photo: Rex Features)

On Wednesday 18 July, at about 4:00 P.M., Huberty, a 41-year-old unemployed man, walked through the golden arches of a McDonald’s restaurant in the town of San Ysidro, on the California-Mexico border. He was dressed in combat trousers and a black T-shirt. Matching accessories included a semi-automatic rifle slung over one shoulder, a canvas bag full of ammunition over the other, a 9-mm semi-automatic pistol with a fourteen-shot clip tucked in his belt, and a twelve-gauge shotgun in his hands.

A McDonald’s assistant, 16-year-old John Arnold, standing by the service counter, glanced up and found himself looking straight down the barrel of the shotgun: “Guillermo [a fellow employee] said, ‘Hey, John, that guy’s gonna shoot you,’ ” Arnold later recalled. “He was pointing that gun right at me. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. Then he brought it down and started messing with it.” Arnold turned and walked away, disgusted by what he thought was a sick joke.

Of the customers who had noticed Huberty’s entrance, some headed immediately for the door, some shifted nervously in their seats and some, presumably thinking Huberty was a harmless zany “character” of one sort or another – a kiddies’ entertainer, perhaps, or a Rambo look-alike contestant – simply went back to reading the overhead menus, eating their Big Macs or drinking their milkshakes.

Outside, across the street, 11-year-old Armando Rodriguez was staring intently at the restaurant. He had been kicking a football about a few minutes earlier but had left off the game when he noticed a black Mercury Marquis pulling into the McDonald’s car park. A heavily armed man had climbed out of the car and walked into the restaurant. Now, as the bemused Armando watched, the man with the guns was motioning with his hand for the people in the building to get down on the floor. Some witnesses were reported to have said that Huberty shouted, “I’m going to kill you all”; one young boy reportedly said he yelled, “I killed thousands in Vietnam, and I want to kill more,” but police who interviewed the survivors believed he simply ordered everyone to lie down. Armando Rodriguez was still watching from outside. He saw a woman running for the exit and the gunman turn and fire. The woman dropped to the floor.

John Arnold, who had walked away when Huberty first entered the restaurant, was nicked by a shotgun pellet in the opening volley of shots. A plate glass window shattered, bodies fell all around him and Arnold dived under a seat. “I just pushed my head up against the bricks. I scrunched into a ball. I tried not to breathe. I just thought ‘Oh, please, don’t come over here.’ “He would remain in that position, thinking that same thought, for the next seventy-five minutes. Griselda Diaz and her young son, Erwin, also dived to the floor during the first volley of shots. They managed to crawl to a side door and safety.

Many other customers were not so lucky. Huberty calmly fired off round after round. When one gun was empty, he moved on to another. Most of the victims were hit within the first few minutes of shooting. The first emergency call, from a McDonald’s employee, was logged at 4:03 P.M. Other calls quickly followed. Betty Everhart, a retired nurse who lived opposite the restaurant, had like many people mistook the first shots for a car backfiring. But two men ran to her door, telling her that somebody was shooting a gun and to call the police.

Meanwhile, McDonald’s employees in the kitchen, wondering what the commotion in the restaurant was all about, soon found out. Alicia Garcia was cooking chips when Huberty walked in. She turned and ran downstairs to a cloakroom, taking two of her colleagues with her. They were joined by other employees with the same idea. The small group huddled together nervously while, upstairs, the firing continued.

Huberty shot dead the manager, Neva Caine, and rooted out four other employees who had tried to hide. He fired on them from close range and two girls were killed instantly. A third, wounded, tried to crawl away, as did a young man, Albert Leos. Huberty pumped more bullets into the girl, killing her, then found himself with an empty magazine. He returned to the service counter, where his bag of ammunition sat, and began reloading. Albert Leos terrified that the gunman would return at any moment to finish him off, tried to get to his feet but was unable to do so. He had been shot four times – in the left arm, the right arm, the right leg and the abdomen. Desperately, he dragged and pulled himself across the kitchen floor, heading for the steps to the basement.

But Huberty had plenty more targets to aim at – in the restaurant, and in the playground and car park outside. Three youngsters, Joshua Coleman, David Flores and Omar Hernandez, pushing bicycles along the pavement in front of the building, suddenly collapsed in a heap. Rafael Meza, an employee of an all-night grocery chain just up the street, had run down to the McDonald’s soon after the gunfire started. He tried to reach the boys but “somebody was shooting at me with a pistol. Then all the windows started breaking. I hid behind a truck… There were bullets flying everywhere… Everybody was screaming and running around, they were just running for their lives… You could see people getting shot and falling down, just like in a shooting gallery that you couldn’t get out of, just like in the movies.” A couple and their 4-month-old daughter were hit, as were a couple in their seventies, the oldest victims of the massacre.

When the first police car arrived at 4:07 P.M., its windscreen and emergency lights were shattered in a barrage of gunfire. The police officer alerted radio dispatch that a major siege was in progress and requested a SWAT (Special Weapons and Tactics) team. Inside McDonald’s, though, bodies already lay everywhere. Some people played dead. Most weren’t playing. “It’s an absolute massacre,” Police Commander Larry Gore later told reporters. “It’s a total disaster inside the facility.” Huberty had systematically killed staff and customers with no more concern than a slaughter-man killing cattle.

Victor Rivera, a maintenance man, had taken his wife and daughter to McDonald’s. It was the little girl’s favourite restaurant. Victor was shot dead. His wife and their 4-year-old daughter were both wounded.

Jackie Wright Reyes, her 8-month-old son, a friend, and Jackie’s 11-year-old niece had stopped off for a snack. The niece was the only one of the quartet to come out of the McDonald’s alive.

Ron and Blythe Herrera had been on vacation with their 11-year-old son and were on their way home. Mother and son were killed. Ron suffered seven gunshot wounds but survived.

Lawrence Versluis, a 62-year-old truck driver, was having his coffee break. He had worked for the same local company for almost forty years and was due to retire at the end of the week. Huberty shot him dead.

In the restaurant and outside – in the car park and the playground, among the comical pirate statues and other figures familiar in McDonald’s advertisements – twenty-one people lay dead or dying and nineteen lay injured. Out on a nearby eight-lane freeway, Interstate 5, a motorist was shot and wounded. Meanwhile, inside, burger cook Albert Leos had managed to haul himself down to the basement. His colleagues, hiding there, tended him as best they could. Upstairs, Huberty continued to roam the restaurant, firing sporadically.

Outside, the police closed off six blocks of San Ysidro Boulevard and the Highway Patrol shut down Interstate 5. By 4:55 P.M. the SWAT team had assembled and taken up positions at the post office to the south of the restaurant, at a doughnut shop to the north, and on San Ysidro Boulevard to the east. McDonald’s tinted windows, many of them now patterned with dense spiders’ webs of fractures, gave appalling visibility for officers trying to assess the situation inside. To make matters worse, from a tactical point of view, Huberty was occupying high ground: when the restaurant was built, it had been elevated some three feet, with a retaining wall running around three sides. SWAT filed Commander Jerry Sanders was in a difficult position and, until he could gain more information on the situation inside the restaurant, had no option but to maintain a “red light” condition: no firing unless the gunman tried to escape.

By 5:13 P.M. Sanders was sufficiently clear on the position to proceed. There was just one man with a lot of guns. Many people were dead, too many for witnesses even to begin to estimate the number, but others were still alive. The gunman was no longer shooting at the customers, though. He had turned his attention to police officers outside. He was coming closer to windows and doors and, as he continued to shoot, more and more glass panes were falling out of their frames. He was leaving the interior of the restaurant – and himself – increasingly exposed. Sanders changed the red light condition to green – any sharpshooter seeing a clear shot at their man could take it.

SWAT sniper Charles Foster and his spotter Barry Bennett had taken up a position behind a parapet on the roof of the post office. There was a shot from the restaurant and another pane of glass exploded outwards. Bennett caught a brief glimpse of the gunman. The description matched the one he had just heard over his walkie-talkie. “All right, mister, now we can do it,” he said. Chuck Foster gave his .308-calibre sniper rifle one final check.

At 5:17 P.M., four minutes after receiving the green light, Bennett spotted the gunman again. He told Foster, “There he is, right in the window. It’s him.” Foster rose smoothly up from behind the parapet and found Huberty in his sights. He drew in a breath, held it, and gently squeezed the trigger. The single bullet crashed into Huberty’s chest just above the heart, and tore through his body, shattering the spinal column. A bullet fired simultaneously from an M-16 by an officer below Foster, and two bullets fired by a third officer with a .38 revolver, all missed. Foster’s single shot was sufficient, though, and Huberty dropped to the floor. In the eerie silence following seventy-five minutes of gunfire, officers with binoculars observed Huberty’s prone body (found to be alcohol and drug-free at the subsequent autopsy), waiting to make sure he was dead. Once they were satisfied he was, SWAT personnel entered the restaurant.

The scene that greeted Jerry Sanders and his men would come to haunt them. “It was like an awful still life,” Sanders told The Times later. “One of the little bodies I picked up… was about the same age as my daughter… I went through nightmares… So did a lot of the other guys… You can never put that vision out of your mind.”

18 Jul 1984 — April 23, 2013 – San Diego Police officers escort out McDonald’s employees after the gunman, James Oliver Huberty shot and killed 20 and wounded 20 other July 18, 1984, at McDonald’s fast food restaurant.

For the survivors and the families of those who do not survive, the suffering often goes on and on.

It’s been 33 years since a gunman walked into the restaurant in a part of San Diego that abuts the U.S.-Mexico border and killed 21 people, including children. Nineteen others were wounded.

For many of the survivors, the pain of what they went through following the shooting on July 18, 1984, lingers.

“It destroyed my life,” says Maria Leticia Rivera, who was inside the restaurant that afternoon with her husband and two daughters. They were 1 and 4 at the time. In the midst of the chaos, she managed to talk her children into going to sleep, while she played dead.

They survived, but her husband — Victor Rivera — was killed.

Former San Diego Mayor Jerry Sanders, who in 1984 was a police, SWAT commander. He also was later police chief. Sanders and others said there were too many unknowns as the shooting incident began to unfold for police to barge in right away. They couldn’t see easily into the building because of the tinted windows, some of which were riddled with web-like cracks and gaping bullet holes. And they didn’t know initially how many shooters or how many victims were inside the restaurant.

“I simply don’t how you would do it differently,” Sanders said. “You have to have a plan so you don’t go in and get more people killed.”

The survivors — some dressed in their McDonald’s uniforms — running from the restaurant after the killer, 41-year-old James Oliver Huberty, was shot through the chest. The stories they told are harrowing and heartbreaking.

There’s Alberto Leos, then a 17-year-old McDonald’s employee, who despite being shot repeatedly was able to crawl down 25 steps and toward a closet where others had taken shelter. They helped drag him inside.

Leos is now a San Diego police captain.

Maricela Duarte, who lost her left eye in the shooting, recalled that her baby daughter was pulled away from her in the commotion. Later, she learned a stranger had handed the infant to a police officer, who rushed the injured child to a hospital. The baby, Karla Felix, survived.

Duarte said, “I don’t hate this man,”  adding that she might feel differently if she had lost her child.

A bloodied victim is led away by police as SWAT officers assist the wounded at a McDonald’s restaurant, July 18, 1984, in San Ysidro, California. AP Photo

Huberty used a 9 mm Uzi semi-automatic (the primary weapon fired in the massacre), a Winchester pump-action 12-gauge shotgun, and a 9 mm Browning HP in the restaurant, killing 22 people and wounding 19 others. Huberty’s victims were predominantly Mexican and Mexican-American and ranged in age from 8 months to 74 years.

The massacre began at 3:40 p.m. and lasted for 77 minutes. Huberty had spent 257 rounds of ammunition before he was fatally shot by a SWAT team sniper, Chuck Foster, perched on the roof of the post office adjacent to the restaurant. Initially, law enforcement and emergency crews responded to the McDonald’s located at the U.S. International Border with Tijuana at 3:15 p.m., and 15 minutes later changed directions after they learned that the shooting was actually taking place at the McDonald’s next to the post office approximately 2 miles away.

Although Huberty stated during the massacre that he had killed thousands in Vietnam, he had never actually served in any military branch. Eye-witnesses stated that he had previously been seen at the Big Bear supermarket and later at the U.S. Post Office. It was surmised that he found the McDonald’s a better target.

Due to the number of victims, local funeral homes had to use the San Ysidro Civic Center to hold all the wakes. The local parish, Mount Carmel Church, had to have back-to-back funeral masses to accommodate all the dead.

A San Diego Police Officer escorts a woman away from the scene in San Ysidro. Daily Mail.

Why would James Huberty – a father-of-two – commit such an atrocity?

James Huberty was born in the early 1940s and raised in the golden post-war era. As a young boy in Canton, Ohio, he contracted polio and, according to his father, Earl, suffered from crooked knees and mild, spastic paralysis that occasionally caused numbness throughout his body: “His whole nervous system was hurt. It screwed him up. It made changes in him when he was little. Maybe he would get quick-tempered.” The debilitating disease was not; however, the only, or indeed the acutest, source of pain for the young Huberty. When he was 7 years old, his mother, Isel, heeded a “calling” and became a missionary. By 1950, she and Earl were divorced. Their boy was deeply affected by the loss of his mother. According to David Lombardi, Pastor of the Trinity Gospel Temple in Canton, “His father raised the family, and Huberty got embittered by it … he blamed God for taking his mother away from him.”

Bertha Eggeman, who lived down the road from the Huberty farmhouse, recalled, “Jimmy was a loner-not a bad boy but, someone who spent most of his time by himself … He just did not want to mix, he didn’t want to talk to people.” According to Eggeman, guns were about the only thing that interested him. Alte Miller, an Amish farmer, agreed: “He was always a shooting guy … he’d shoot five heads of cabbage and pick one.” After the massacre, Huberty’s wife, Etna, gave her impressions of his formative years in a letter to KFMB-TV, in San Diego. “He had a very unhappy childhood. He was very sad. He came from a broken home. He was always very sad and very lonely. His only close friend was his dog Shep.”

‘He acted so strange, just kept to himself,’ another neighbour recalled. Others remembered a violent streak, an obsession with guns. He’d shoot the heads off cabbages and run into the woods at night for target practice.

Then his behaviour turned sinister. He shot a neighbour’s cat. Hurting animals can be the first step for murderers. For Huberty, it was a sign of things to come.

After his grandmother died, Huberty left home. His father was now remarried to a teacher with children of her own. Neighbours say Huberty didn’t get on with his step-mum. When he visited, he’d get out of his car with a gun, fire a round of shots to signal his arrival.

Investigators look for evidence in the parking lot of the San Diego, Calif., McDonald’s restaurant in July 1984, following a shooting massacre. (VINCE BUCCI: ASSOCIATED PRESS)

Whatever the pain and sadness of his childhood, Huberty’s adult life developed happily enough. In the prosperous postwar era, when social advancement beckoned for even the least talented, Huberty, whom David Lombardi described as “halfway intelligent,” made the most of the opportunities. He enrolled at Malone College, a small humanities school in Ohio, where Etna was also studying. He graduated and began training to obtain a state licence as an embalmer and funeral director. A fellow embalmer, Reverend Dennis Dean, noticed that the young Huberty possessed “a considerable ballistics knowledge … He was a gun collector … he was preoccupied with weapons and the things which various calibres could do to the human body.” Loquacious on the subject of firearms, Huberty was otherwise very reserved.

In 1965, he and Etna were married at the Trinity Gospel Temple. The ceremony was performed by Pastor Lombardi, who knew both the families well. Etna’s parents were active in the church and Isel Huberty had attended on occasions, too-until she received her calling to missionary work. Lombardi also knew Etna and James, although “with him, you always felt a little uneasy about the way he harboured something inside. He was pent up; he was a loner and he had kind of an explosive personality.”

After getting married, and he and his wife had two daughters. The family lived in middle-class suburb Massillon, in Ohio. When the girls invited their friends over, they’d be shocked to see Huberty’s gun collection spread across the table. He was also seen toying with a switchblade knife.

But Huberty was only ever in trouble with police once before the shooting – for being drunk and disorderly at a petrol station. He was fined and paid court costs.

The Huberty household wasn’t a stable one. Huberty jumped from one job to the next. He even trained as a funeral director and embalmer. His funeral-parlour boss remembered him as a ‘loner’, with a ‘short, quick, temper’. Huberty then found work at a steel plant but, when it shut in 1981, and he lost his job, he ranted to colleagues of his despair.

‘If this was the end of his making a living for his family, he was going to take everyone with him,’ a former workmate said. ‘He was always talking about shooting somebody. He says, “Hey, I got nothing to live for. I got no job or anything.’’

People began to see Huberty as someone to avoid – he was always complaining, always holding a grudge… In January 1984, the family moved from Ohio to San Diego for a better life. They rented a tiny apartment, and Huberty found work as a security guard.

The dream soured when he lost his new job – more failure, more financial worries. He talked obsessively of war, even walked up to a policeman one day and announced he was a ‘war criminal’, despite having never served in the Forces.

His wife suspected he was having a breakdown. She said he was constantly sad and lonely. The day before the massacre, she apparently urged him to call a mental-health clinic.

Workers remove all McDonald’s Corporation emblems from the fast-food outlet that was the site of last week’s massacre in which a gunman killed 21 people before the was totally wounded by a police sniper,1984.

On the day before the massacre, Huberty had called a mental health centre. The receptionist misspelt his name on intake as “Shouberty.” Since he had not claimed there was an immediate emergency, his call was not returned. The following morning, Huberty was in court for traffic offences, but the judge let him go with a fine. He took his family to McDonald’s – not the one he would later attack – and then for a trip to San Diego Zoo.

Looking at the caged animals, Huberty told his wife, ‘Society had their chance…’

Was this the moment he made his awful decision?

Back home, he changed into combat gear and headed for the door. He told his wife he was going ‘to hunt humans’.

His wife later said she didn’t understand what he meant, and he was ‘calm’ when he drove off to McDonald’s. An autopsy confirmed that Huberty wasn’t under the influence of alcohol or drugs. After the massacre, his wife claimed the man she’d loved ‘would never have done this…if he had been in his right mind.’

With Huberty lying dead among his victims, no-one knew for sure why he did it. But it seemed that years of rage and disappointment had built up like a pressure cooker. And, on 18 July 1984, James Huberty finally exploded – with utterly devastating results.

When questioned by police, Etna gave no explanation as to why she failed to report this bizarre behaviour. A witness, who spotted Huberty as he left his apartment and proceeded down San Ysidro Boulevard with two firearms, phoned the police, but the dispatcher gave the reporting officers the wrong address.
On September 26, 1984, McDonald’s tore down the restaurant where the massacre occurred and gave the property to the city. They, in turn, established the Education Center as part of Southwestern Community College. This location was built in 1988 as an expansion of its off-campus locations. In front of the school is a memorial to the massacre victims, consisting of 21 hexagonal granite pillars ranging in height from one to six feet.

In 1986, Etna Huberty, his widow, unsuccessfully sued McDonald’s and Babcock and Wilcox, James Huberty’s longtime former employer, in an Ohio state court for $7.88 million, claiming that the massacre was triggered by the combined mixture of McDonald’s food and work around poisonous metals. She alleged that monosodium glutamate in the food, combined with the high levels of lead and cadmium in Huberty’s body, induced delusions and uncontrollable rage.

An autopsy did reveal high levels of the metals, most likely built up from fumes inhaled during 14 years of welding. Autopsy results also revealed there were no drugs or alcohol in his system at the time of the killings.

McDonalds Memorial – Memorial for all the people killed in the July 18, 1984, massacre.

Some reports suggested that Huberty and his wife argued on the day of the massacre but these were discounted by police. In the afternoon, the couple were sitting in the bedroom of their apartment when Huberty got up and pulled on camouflage pants and a black T-shirt. He said he was going out. “Where are you going, honey?” Etna asked him. “Going hunting humans,” he replied. He finished dressing and, as Etna said “When he left the house about 3:45, he said, ‘I will not be going far.’ I said, ‘Do you not want to stay here with us?’ He said, ‘,No.’ I called to him and told him that I had talked to Mr Smith, the man who bought the house in Massillon Ohio, and he advised me that he would refinance the house and pay us off in October and we could buy a business. Then he left.”

Etna had offered her husband a final straw to clutch at, but it was of no interest. Huberty either no longer believed in. or was no longer prepared to wait for, some possible rosy future. His life, so far as he could see it, had come to the end of the line.

James Oliver Huberty is remembered as a man who never smiled, a man who liked guns. But mostly he will be remembered by this: “He was always talking about shooting somebody,” Terry Kelly, who once worked beside him, said Thursday.

Huberty, 41, was an angry man who took his family, his private arsenal and his bitterness to search for a better life away from this northeastern Ohio town, where a distressed economy had cost him his job. Acquaintances in this Rustbelt area were not altogether surprised when they heard that Huberty had killed 21 people in a McDonald’s restaurant near San Diego Wednesday.

Former co-worker Kelly, now a Starke County deputy sheriff, recalled that when Huberty lost his job, at the Babcock & Wilcox plant in nearby Canton in October 1982 “he said that if this was the end of his making a living for his family, he was going to take everyone with him. He was always talking about shooting somebody.”

In Canton, Brother Dave Lombardi, minister of the Trinity Gospel Temple, said he believed that Huberty’s problems went back to childhood when the boy’s mother deserted the family to become a religious missionary to an Indian reservation.

“He had real inner conflicts,” said Lombardi, who later performed the marriage ceremony for Huberty and his wife in 1965. “He was pent up; he was a loner, and he had kind of an explosive personality. When you talked to him you knew he had nervous anxiety and was wound up inside.”

A portrait of Huberty, drawn from law enforcement officials and those who knew him, reveals an uncertain man who shifted directions several times in his life. One trait remained consistent, however: Huberty struck others as a loner who did not much like people.

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