SF’s ’93 rampage at 101 California continues to shape gun politics, policies
Lying with her face pressed against an office floor, Michelle Scully squinted and saw the gunman’s shoe. Then, a flash of metal, the stench of barrel oil, and the steady sputter of a semiautomatic pistol. She closed her eyes.
Twenty-five years later, Scully — now Michelle Scully Hobus — remembers the massacre at 101 California St. in crisp fragments. How her husband, John Scully, pulled her to the floor and shielded her with his rangy, 6-foot-4 body. How she dialed 911 with her left hand because her right arm and hand were limp from a bullet wound. How Scully gazed at her as blood ran from his nose and chest.
“Michelle,” he said, “I’m dying. I love you.