Meet Lance Anderson, the man who survived the Zenex shoot-out
Lance Anderson and his mother, Jean.
The bullet wound at the back of his head is still raw; the exit wound is high on his forehead – and his head is shaved. These are the only signs that Lance Anderson is lucky to be alive.
He took the bullet meant for me on May 10: seconds before me he walked into the shop at the Cyrildene Zenex when a gang of 10 men went on a wild shooting spree, killing a security guard and wounding three others.
We’re having coffee at his Sandringham house hardly four weeks after the shoot-out – and marvel at life. Yes, it is a miracle; he is walking, talking, living proof. “I suffer from the odd headache; my body is still sore; I’m sometimes dizzy and my head is still very tender – but that’s all,” Lance says. His short-term memory is back. There is no apparent brain damage. “I just lost a bit of grey matter,” he laughs.
We paste together the pieces of that fateful day: he walks to the shop while I hand over my keys to the petrol attendant; he enters the shop with me seconds behind him; he is told to lie down – and immediately shot pointblank in the back of the head while lying in the door. I turn back…
He stopped my bullet…
We talk about trauma: he had his first counseling. “I knew I was shot, but didn’t know where. I felt no pain, just blood over my face. Where I was lying I could see a lot of blood – but I got up and walked back to my car.
“I was freaked out. I couldn’t talk, couldn’t answer. I remember everything up to when the cop jumped into the car from the passenger door. Then I passed out…”
Lance still has difficulty coming to grips with it. “Why?” He was last at that garage as a little boy with his uncle. “And I’ll never use a garage shop again.
“I was a cop for two years and a police reservist for another two. In all that time I had lots of guns pointed at me, but was never shot. Why now? I just don’t trust people anymore.”
He still hasn’t read my front page eye-witness account in The Star. “I can’t – but I’ll get around to it, I’m sure.”
Strangers bind us together: a teacher from Sacred Heart College is his cousin; another his neighbour; an Observatory resident has Lance as a client; his father phoned; his girlfriend’s father; residents… He had a chain of prayer supporting him.
“I went to the doctor at Milpark last week and bumped into the emergency worker who looked after me at the Zenex. She couldn’t believe I was standing in front of her. She nursed me until I was airlifted to Milpark.
“I told her how my family is forever teasing me about that helicopter ride: I had this bird’s eye view of Jo’burg at R35 000 – and saw nothing!
“That afternoon her mother, who works for Netcare, phoned me: Netcare has decided to give me another ride in their helicopter. This time I’ll see it all…”
It’s a good news story, we agree. But we still have to find the sense in it. Lance can’t.
And me? I want to make a difference: I’m joining the police reservists – if they’ll have me…
