This story originally published in The Star on Feb. 20, 1994.
There was hardly enough time to scream.
In less than a second, just before 9 p.m. on a recent Friday, Diana Hudson’s living room was transformed into a scene of bloodshed and pandemonium.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Duck!” Hudson yelled to her nine grandchildren as a 9 mm bullet – fired from a passing red Chevette and powerful enough to shatter bricks – pierced the walls of her home at 51st Street and the Paseo.
Wood splintered from the window frame. The bullet sailed into the room, tore through a lampshade and sped just over the heads of her grandchildren, who were there to spend the night – kids 2 to 12, most under age 9. Some in their pajamas, watching television, playing on the floor.
“Everyone get down!” Hudson screamed.
She tried reaching for 6-year-old Tashay Campbell, who was kneeling on the mattress of a fold-out couch. A second slug smashed through a window and rocketed with destructive force into her granddaughter’s face.