Aftershocks of a Crime Spree

Dando parks the truck outside Figa Brothers, a small neighborhood liquor store. Joe Figa opened the store in 1941. His four sons have worked there for the last 50 years.

At one time, this store was the center of the neighborhood. When times were tough, Joe Figa used to let people buy food on credit. Now, the neighborhood has disintegrated and the store has become a place to rob.

Doyle grabs the shotgun.

The Figas have taken several precautions against crime. They replaced the old wood door with a steel one after somebody tried to break in a few years ago.

They close the store at 7:30 p.m., 1 1/2 hours earlier than they used to, because they were sick of dealing with drunks and addicts later at night. They stopped selling the cheapest whiskey and wine, as well as tobacco rolling paper, because of the customers they drew to the store.

Doyle opens the door and pulls a mask over his face.

"Give me all of your money," he says, pointing the shotgun at Mike Figa's chest.

Mike Figa, 77, opens the cash register, trying to stay calm. His father was shot while trying to resist two armed robberies, but he survived.

During another robbery, his brother Fred was told to kneel down behind the counter and a robber held a gun to his head, but never fired. About seven years ago, Mike Figa asked someone for identification and the man pulled a gun, shoved it in his face and said, "This is all the ID I need." Both of the Figas' wives have been robbed at gunpoint in the last 10 years.

"Give me the money," Doyle demands, the sawed-off shotgun waving over the register.

Mike Figa gives him $100.

Doyle runs out the door, and Figa yells to his brother Theodore in the back room.

Theodore Figa looks out the rear door and watches Doyle get into the passenger side of the pickup truck. He glances at the license plate but it's dirty.

Doyle screams at Dando: "Floor it, he's got a gun!"

But the store owner doesn't.

The Figas don't think that arming themselves would do any good.

Dando speeds off, hits a car and races down the road.

The Figas are shaken but thankful. The brothers feel blessed that they have faced so many guns and nobody has ever gotten killed. A religious family, they feel a guardian angel has been looking over them.

Since the robbery, the Figas have installed a video surveillance system. They hope it is a deterrent.

"We are fortunate," Mike Figa says. "But there is no joy in this anymore."

Ryner learns about the robbery at Shenanigan's.

Dispatch gives a description: a tall, skinny white male, buzz haircut, dark coat and a camouflage mask.

And a description of the female: A petite white female, long blond or strawberry blond hair.

Ryner drives through Pontiac, in Car 25, looking for the pickup.

Police in White Lake figure out that the suspect is Doyle and he's driving a maroon GMC pickup.

Dispatch gives Doyle's address: 685 Crescent Lake Road in Waterford.

Waterford? That's one of my guys, Ryner says to himself.

He parks at Dixie and Kennett, near a little grocery story by a flea market, watching for the truck.

About 200 yards down the road from Figa Brothers Market, Willard Ousnamer and his wife of 50 years, Dorothy, are watching television.

On the wall, above the couch, there is a small picture of their granddaughter Debra Dando, in a collection of photos of their 10 grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren.

Dando was over about a week ago, asking for money as always.

They know she's on drugs. They know she needs help. But they don't know what to do. As a teenager, Dando spent three years in mental hospitals for children. But it didn't really help, in Dorothy Ousnamer's eyes. They see her as a simple person, someone who doesn't understand the consequences of her actions.

On television, there is a report of a series of armed robberies in Oakland County. The female suspect is described as a petite blond.

"That could be Deb," Will Ousnamer says.

His wife nods.

"Could be."

And they go on watching television.

Dando and Doyle go to a crack house and buy drugs. He gets a $60 rock of crack and she gets $20 worth, using the money from the liquor store.

They smoke it while driving the back streets of Pontiac.