KIRKWOOD — Police Chief Jack Plummer had just gotten home after a 10-hour workday last month when the phone rang.

Shots fired at City Hall, a dispatcher told him.

"Was it Cookie?" the chief asked.

It's not that Plummer thought the town gadfly, Charles Lee "Cookie" Thornton, was capable of killing two police officers and three city officials. The chief, like so many other city leaders, had seen Thornton's antics at City Hall.

Thornton could be outrageous, known for carrying signs with a picture of a donkey, his moniker for city leaders. But Thornton seemed harmless, the chief said.

"Why does a person cross the line from here to here?" Plummer said, stretching his arms wide. "I don't even know if Cookie knows why he went from here to there."

The chief spoke to the Post-Dispatch during the past week about the attack and its aftermath. The call on Feb. 7 was not the first to relay news about a fallen police officer from Plummer's ranks. On July 5, 2005, Sgt. William McEntee was gunned down while on patrol. Kevin Johnson was sentenced to death for killing McEntee, the penalty handed down six days before Thornton's attack.

"I'm real tired of burying policemen. I can tell you that," Plummer said.

The chief said if there is a normal, the department's staff and 57 officers have tried to return to it. Officers from St. Louis County and the Missouri Highway Patrol are no longer assisting with street patrols. The counselors are gone, too. Plummer encouraged all officers to take advantage of the professional help.

This was no time to be John Wayne, he said.

For about a week — until after the funerals of Sgt. William Biggs and Officer Tom Ballman — officers, dispatchers and other police employees were given time off. Coming back has brought mixed emotions.

"I got a sick feeling in my stomach," said Officer Kevin Reiter, 43. "Everything had changed for the worst, for good."

It was important to get back to work, to be there for the younger officers, he said.

"I know the officers killed wouldn't want us to quit," Reiter said. "But I'd understand if those young in their careers didn't want to stay, based on what happened."

Dispatcher Karrie Hanslick, 30, said getting back to her routine was an essential part of moving on. Still, it's tough for her to fathom that she'll never be taking radio calls from two of her friends.

Black bunting still hangs above the police station entrance. Teddy bears, silk roses and handmade signs from a shrine outside City Hall sit atop a wooden case in the station lobby. On top of the case is a "love book" by two young boys, Atticus and John. "Sorry" is the simple message written in crayon on one of the five pages stapled together.

The items will eventually be tucked away. When that will be, Plummer isn't sure.

"It will just feel right when it's time," he said. "They don't teach you that in chief's school."

THAT AWFUL NIGHT

The gunfire was over when the chief arrived at City Hall. Police officers had taken out Thornton with shots to the neck and abdomen. They responded to an emergency alert from Biggs, Thornton's first victim.

Biggs was walking from the station to a nearby Imo's Pizza to get dinner for some co-workers. Thornton had parked his vehicle — a decommissioned ambulance — on Madison Avenue and was headed toward City Hall when he saw Biggs and called out, Plummer said.

Maybe Biggs saw the stolen gun Thornton was carrying. Maybe it was something Thornton said. But something caused Biggs to send a distress call before Thornton shot him.

"Did he shoot Bill because he was a threat, or because he wanted his gun, or a combination of the two?" Plummer said. The chief speculates that Biggs was an afterthought to Thornton's plan.

When Plummer was told where Biggs had fallen, the chief insisted on heading that way. His officers resisted. "No, Chief, you don't want to do that," they told him.

"He's my guy. I can't let him go away without looking at him," Plummer said. The same held true for Ballman, he added.

Thornton shot and killed Ballman inside the council chambers, and then opened fire at city leaders, killing two councilmen and the public works director. Mayor Mike Swoboda was critically wounded.

As the chief reviewed the crime scene, he walked over to the gunman's body. He had to see for himself. It was Cookie. The man everyone around town seemed to like — including Plummer — was a killer.

Thornton was a regular at meetings, challenging city leaders over what he said was unfair treatment of his asphalt business. He racked up $20,000 in a variety of parking and dumping fines. He charged that the council violated his First Amendment rights by limiting his time to talk during meetings.

When Plummer would go to council meetings, he would arrive early and check on Thornton's mood. "I wanted to try to figure out what the night was going to be like," Plummer said.

But the chief decided against going to the council meeting on Feb. 7. He went home instead to let the dogs out. His wife was out of town. It was going to be a night to call his own.

Police first learned of trouble when they received Biggs' distress call. Sgt. Paul Faustich and Officer Steve Geyer ran from the police station to City Hall. Thornton had five or six rounds remaining between the two guns he was firing when the officers confronted him, the chief said. "It could have been much worse."

On Saturday, City Hall was officially rededicated, a way to show the community that Kirkwood would move beyond the tragedy. Plummer helped lead the cleanup, which began the day after the killings.

"It was a horrible, horrible scene," Plummer said. "I wanted as few people to have that image as possible. I'll be damned if I let him define what our city is visually."

RETURNING TO NORMAL

The trains that run through Kirkwood have their charm. They chug by Plummer's office every day.

The rhythm of the trains gives comfort. It's familiar. It's part of the small-town life that Plummer has loved since becoming chief nearly 10 years ago. He listens a little more closely now.

While life can't be the same, the sound is reassuring.

The chief said he will get back to clipping news articles about police happenings elsewhere and share them with his officers, something he used to do often. The stories make for good discussions about policy. Now he knows police chiefs around the country are reading about Kirkwood for the same reason.

"I know this sounds bad to say, but I would like to learn from other people's problems," Plummer said. "That hasn't happened lately."

dmoore@post-dispatch.com | 314-340-8125