This cold December night in the big city began quietly with a chubby man wearing thick glasses on the sidewalk outside of the Dakota building. Mark David Chapman. He had with him a copy of "The Catcher in the Rye". He read it to himself, as he sat in the shadows. He had met John Lennon earlier that morning and had gotten the Beatle's autograph. It was in one of his pockets, in the other pocket was a loaded gun.
The 40 year old rock star got out of the limo with Yoko ahead of him John turned back to thank the driver, letting his wife go on ahead. Yoko barely noticed the man standing on the corner, it was New York after all. She walked right by him. Mark David Chapman now stood in the shadows, breathing slowly and quietly. In his coat pocket he felt the cold of the gun against his fingertips. He waited. Finally the ex-beatle left the limo and began to catch up to Yoko, who was waiting for him the lobby. She watched as the stranger stepped from the shadow behind her husband. "Mr. Lennon," he yelled. But before John could turn around, a hot and stinging bullet pierced the left side of his back. BANG. Another shot, this time the bullet missed and hits the window of the apartment building. Yoko screamed. BANG. Another shot, this time hit slightly above the first. BANG. Another bullet ripped through John's jacket and into his shoulder. BANG. Yet another hot bullet hit below the last. BANG. The last of the gunshots ripped through John's aorta, the largest artery in the body.
Blood spilled out of his chest onto the frozen pavement. But he wasn't dead. John Lennon stumbled up the steps of the building, and into the lobby. "I'm shot," he muttered between deep breaths. The concierge took off his uniform and wrapped John in it. His signature round glasses were removed from his face.
The doorman ran to the murderer, who stood watching, emotionless. He shook the gun from the killer's hand and pushed it across the sidewalk. Chapman simply sat down and removed his hat. The doorman asked Chapman "Do you have any idea what you've just done?", to which the assassin responded, "Yes. I just killed John Lennon."
Yoko cradled her love, and wept.
As the cop car careened towards the hospital, Lennon rolled around the back seat. The officer asked, "Do you know who you are?" Lennon nodded weakly and tried to speak, but could only make a gurgling sound.
Lennon was pronounced dead on arrival to the ER at 11:15 PM on December 8, 1980.
Some say music died that night.
