Gunfight leaves Cincinnati police officer, suspect dead
CINCINNATI — The call came in at 9:03 a.m. Friday — an urgent description of a belligerent man with a gun.
Seven minutes later, a second call followed, and after that, the normally peaceful intersection of Roe Street and Whetsel Avenue in Madisonville descended into chaos.
When it was over, Cincinnati Police Officer Sonny Kim — a decorated and well-liked cop of 27 years — was dead. The father of three wasn't supposed to be on duty Friday, but he'd been tapped to work overtime in a city that's combating an uptick in crime.
Also killed was 21-year-old Trepierre Hummons, who police said made those 911 calls himself while pretending to be a simple bystander. He wanted to die at an officer's hand, Police Chief Jeffrey Blackwell said, and had even texted friends about his plan.
Hummons left what appears to be a farewell message on his public Facebook page that read: "I love every last one of y'all to whoever has been in my life ... you're the real mvp." The time stamp on the message was 8:55 a.m.
While the events leading up to Kim and Hummons' deadly meeting Friday are still being sorted, the aftermath is clear: Kim became the first Cincinnati officer killed in the line of duty since 2000, and Hummons the 29th civilian killed by an officer since then.
The incident left a usually quiet neighborhood on edge.
It left friends of Hummons confused and angry, yelling at officers at the scene and condemning police on social media.
And it left a police department in mourning for a decorated officer that Blackwell called "one of our best."
"We lost a brother today," Blackwell said. "Our hearts are broken."
FAREWELL MESSAGE
The seeds of the confrontation may have been planted just after midnight Friday, about nine hours before the shooting started.
Police say that's when a woman filed a sex offense report against Hummons.
Hummons' mother would later tell police her son was having trouble with his girlfriend and wasn't behaving like himself. Early that morning, he'd sent an ominous text message to friends: "I really love you and thank you for all you've ever done for me."
Hummons was no stranger to police. He spent three months in juvenile detention four years ago, when he was 17, after robbing a man's home at gunpoint and then stealing his car. His adult record included numerous traffic tickets and a disorderly conduct charge.
Police said he also was a member of the Clutch Gang, which operates in Madisonville.
His mother, though, just wanted to find her son. She went looking for him sometime before 9 a.m. and found him in the street, shortly before Kim arrived.
As Hummons approached Kim, police say, Hummons' mother stood between the two men and told Kim, "I'll take him home." Then her son drew his gun. And Kim drew his.
Hummons shot Kim multiple times and, soon after, wrestled away the officer's Smith & Wesson semi-automatic handgun, police say. He then began shooting at a probation officer who had stopped to assist on his way to work.
Another police officer, Tom Sandmann, came under fire as soon as he arrived on the scene.
While Hummons' mother tried to help the dying Kim in the street, her son turned Kim's gun on Sandmann and began firing, police say.
Sandmann took cover behind his car, returned fire and fatally wounded Hummons.
Then came the frantic radio calls.
"Attention all cars and departments," the dispatcher said.
"Officer down."
FROM SOUTH KOREA TO CINCINNATI
Kim, 48, was a South Korea-born immigrant who came to the United States in 1973. Raised in Chicago, he moved to Cincinnati in 1986, Blackwell said.
Two years later, he joined the city police force, where he earned 22 commendations over the years and was praised in 2012 by the U.S. Department of Justice for his service.
He had another love, too: karate. In March 2014, he dovetailed his two passions during an interview with the online karate magazine the Shotokan Way.
"As a police trainer, we have a saying which is: 'You will perform how you train,'" Kim told the magazine.
But as seriously as he took his training, his friends on the force said Kim was best known as a fun guy.
"He was always joking around," said Sgt. Stephen Hoerst.
"We were just at the range with him the other day. Afterward, you have to clean your gun and he was joking around like, 'I'll buy your lunch if you clean my gun.'"
His fellow officers called him Bruce Lee, but with a caveat: "Bruce Lee is all serious, and he was a complete cut-up," Hoerst said.
On Friday, though, those who knew him, and many who didn't, remembered Kim as a hero.
"There is a deep injustice when people believe they can shoot at police officers," Mayor John Cranley said.
OFFICERS MOURN FALLEN BROTHER
Officers fought to save Kim's life on the street before he and Hummons were transported to the University of Cincinnati Medical Center.
There, dozens of police officers gathered outside in a steady rain. They hugged and comforted one another as they kept a somber vigil.
By noon, word that Kim had died was starting to spread, which Blackwell confirmed at a news conference a half-hour later.
"CPD lost one of its best today," he said.
City Manager Harry Black said the city would honor Kim.
"This is a stark reminder that all jobs are not created equal," said Black, adding that police officers "have the courage and conviction to do what many of us might not be prepared to do — that is, to sacrifice their lives if necessary."
That hero's treatment began with the officers outside of the hospital. Even after Kim's death was announced, they stood together in the rain.
An ambulance pulled up to the hospital at about 1:15 p.m., nearly four hours after the shooting. Kim's body was loaded inside, and the officers snapped a silent salute.
Emotions were still raw hours later, when police gathered for a vigil outside District 2 police headquarters. About 200 people showed up, and some questioned whether the vigil should be for both Kim's family and Hummons' family.
In the end, religious leaders offered prayers for both.
Contributing: Henry Molski, Kevin Grasha, Emilie Eaton, Fatima Hussein, Jeanne Houck, Carrie Blackmore Smith and Cameron Knight of The Enquirer