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Special Agent in Charge John Steinman pleaded, “Mr. President, please wait for a few minutes until I can get a full surveillance report on the North lawn grounds and the outside of the White House to the North on Pennsylvania Avenue before you step outside.”

A determined Bill Clinton replied in his trademarked Arkansas drawl, “Nowww, John. This is just me randomly stretching my legs outside the Whitehouse. There is no planned address or pre-notification of what I am doing. You are acting like there are snipers posted all around the White House hoping to get a shot at me. Don’t you think that you are being a bit too paranoid?”

“It’s my job to be paranoid Mr. President. There are usually a lot of unscreened people near the Whitehouse during the middle of the day. Especially on the North face along Pennsylvania Avenue. Some of them are just hoping to get a look at you, Mr. President.”

Bill Clinton smiled, “That’s just what I am talking about. I would enjoy making the day of some of those hopeful people.”

Steinman answered, “I understand sir, but you don’t want to make the day of some would-be assassin too, do you?”

Clinton stated forcefully, “John, I have been cooped up in the West Wing all morning. I need to get some fresh air. I am going out on the lawn by the fountain right now."

Steinman called the team together, “We are going to accompany the President out on to the North lawn by the fountain in an unscheduled movement. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

Five men exited the West Wing where the President had been working and walked Northeast to the front of the Whitehouse towards the fountain on the North lawn. President Clinton was admiring the trees and the fountain. He looked out to see a number of people who were by the fence on Pennsylvania Avenue. Some of them seemed to recognize him and dozens of cameras were brought up to the eyes of tourists and a myriad of pictures were being taken.

Bill Clinton couldn’t stop himself from giving a sudden wave to the crowd. John Steinman was almost beside himself when the President did that. Clinton’s wave was like a signal to someone outside the fence and then to the shock and amazement of all, the signal was received and answered violently. A man named Francisco Martin Duran was waiting in the crowd of people on Pennsylvania Avenue. He was carrying a concealed Russian made SKS semi-automatic rifle. He proceeded to shoot at the group of five men. 

At the report of the first shots, both John Steinman and Michael Brown grabbed hold of the President and pulled him down to the ground near the fountain. Aaron Jones and Frank Monahan drew their weapons and rushed towards the shooter. As Duran continued firing, three nearby tourists took it upon themselves to leap upon him and knock him down. Despite their heroic actions, Duran had managed to unleash a barrage of 29 shots.

When the shots ceased, Michael checked the President who said he was okay, just a little shaken. A large number of Uniformed White House Police Officers and a full detail of Secret Service Agents were now on the scene. One of the uniformed officers was Joe Grierson. He observed how Michael had taken charge to see that President Clinton was quickly and safely escorted back inside the White House. Michael discovered that John Steinman had been badly wounded. He laid there on the North lawn of the Whitehouse near the fountain, blood bubbling from his body. Michael immediately began to aid him to stop his blood loss.

Michael turned to Grierson and calmly stated, “Joe, could you please see to getting an ambulance and some professional medical aid for John. He’s taken a couple of bullets!”

Joe nodded, but before he went off to get help, he commented, “Man, you both just saved the life of the President!”

Michael turned his attention to John Steinman. As Michael was trying to staunch the flow of blood, Steinman issued a command in a rasping voice saying, “Get the President to safety!”

Michael responded, “That’s been done, John. How are you doing?”

“I’m badly hurt. Did you get the shooter?”

“The shooting has stopped and I think we have the shooter in custody. It looks like you’ve been hit a couple of times, John. Just rest easy till professional medical help comes.” 

Steinman responded, “I need to know something. I have always felt there is something not quite right about you. I can’t go to my grave without knowing the truth. When are you from?”

Michael countered, “There is no time for this, John. You need to save your breath and your energy until help arrives. I’ve got to plug some of these holes so your lungs don’t collapse.”

Steinman would not listen, “I need to know the answer. Please grant a man his dying wish.”

Michael looked into Steinman’s eyes and replied, “I was born in 1970 in Kansas City, Missouri. You know that from my Secret Service personnel records.”

Steinman rasped back, “I don’t believe it. You have always seemed like a man out of time to me. Please tell me the truth.”

Michael looked at Steinman who was losing consciousness, “You are not making any sense. Besides, you are not going to die today, John. We will have time to discuss it later.”