New Details In City Hall Murder

An aspiring politician strolled past a metal detector at tightly guarded City Hall - escorted by the councilman he once hoped to replace - then pulled a gun in the crowded balcony of the council chamber and shot his rival to death.

Reports Thursday paint a strangely conflicted portrait of the gunman, who is said to have at one point asked his victim to hire him, and is also said to have filed a report with the FBI, accusing the councilman of harassing him.

Immediately after the shooting, a shaken Mayor Michael Bloomberg quickly clamped down on the security loophole - an informal exemption from metal detector screening, for council members and their guests - which allowed the man to slip into the building with both a gun and extra bullets, hidden in a sock.

The attack Wednesday turned New York City's seat of government into a crime scene, with screaming political aides, visitors and journalists diving for cover. A security officer fired up at the gunman, killing him with five bullets.

Councilman James Davis, 41, a former police officer and ordained minister who campaigned against urban violence, was struck several times in the torso and died at a hospital. He had planned to introduce legislation on workplace violence that afternoon.

Police say his killer, Othniel Boaz Askew, 31, died a short time later at the same hospital. For a time before emergency workers arrived, the two fatally wounded men were lying side by side in the balcony.

Mayor Bloomberg said the attack "strikes at the very essence of democracy." He was startled at his desk in City Hall when the gunfire erupted but was unharmed.

Bloomberg says Askew had filed papers to oppose Davis in a three-way council race in this fall's Democratic primary. But he was not an official candidate because he had not filed enough petition signatures.

Davis spokeswoman Amyre Loomis said Davis and Askew had recently called a truce, and had met three times in recent weeks. When Askew showed up Wednesday at Davis' office in Brooklyn and asked if they could go to City Hall together, Davis agreed.

In an interview with the New York Times, Loomis says Askew had asked the councilman to hire him and Davis was beginning "to think of himself as something of a mentor" to Askew.

FBI spokesman Joe Valiquette sheds additional light on events leading up to the shooting.

He says just three hours before the shooting, a man identifying himself as Askew called the FBI's New York office to allege that Davis was harassing him over the upcoming primary election.

According to the New York Times, Askew filed a complaint claiming that Davis told him a background check revealed that Askew was gay, and he told Askew that information might come out in the primary campaign. A law enforcement official quoted by the Times says Askew considered that remark by Davis to be a threat.

Both men arrived together at 1:45 p.m. Wednesday at City Hall, where Davis planned to introduce legislation on workplace violence, Councilman Charles Barron said.

Barron said Davis introduced him to Askew, saying, "This is the guy who was once against me, but now he's with me." Askew offered a firm handshake and an intense stare, Barron said.

A short time later, Barron stood staring into the balcony as the gunman shot down at Davis' prone body with a .40-caliber pistol. "He wasn't shooting randomly," Barron said.

As shots echoed across through City Hall, people dove for cover beneath their desks and the rotunda filled with screams.

"We were at my desk ... the city council meeting had not started the roll call and, all of a sudden, we heard a really, really loud shot, like really loud. And we dove under our desk. People were saying go under your desk,'' city councilwoman Gale Brewer told CBS.

"It was so loud you couldn't hear the direction," said City Council photographer Dan Luhmann. "At first, it was absolute stillness. And then people rushed out and ducked under their desks and it was chaotic."

The shooting raised new security questions at City Hall, a two-century-old stately landmark positioned near the southern tip of Manhattan, no more than a five-minute walk from the World Trade Center site.

It was once so loosely guarded that passers-by could enjoy lunch on its sun-drenched steps. But stricter security was installed by Bloomberg's predecessor, Rudolph Giuliani, then tightened further after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks.

Davis, who was black, joined the police department in 1993, a decade after he was allegedly beaten by two white officers. He founded a not-for-profit organization, Love Yourself Stop the Violence, denouncing violent music lyrics and stores that sold realistic toy guns.

He was elected to the City Council in 2001, becoming active on public-safety issues and working to keep a check on excessive behavior by police.

On Wednesday, the councilman was carrying a licensed gun, but police said he never had time to remove the weapon from its holster.

As many as 14 bullets rattled around the second floor of City Hall during the gunfire. City Council members and reporters in a nearby press room took cover under their desks.

"I heard bang, bang, bang, bang," said councilman Mike Nelson. "I thought it was firecrackers. Then I heard people screaming, and then I saw people ducking."

Outside, police in riot gear swarmed nearby streets, and police tape blocked sidewalks. Sirens screamed, and confused downtown workers ran away from the building.

Subways under and near City Hall were shut down for about an hour. The Brooklyn Bridge, which pours eastbound cars onto streets that border City Hall, was also shut down briefly.

Later in the day, Davis was eulogized on the U.S. Senate floor by Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, who called the slaying of the anti-violence crusader "a tragic, terrible irony."

Davis' brother, Geoffrey Davis, said he was overwhelmed.

"I'm confused right now," he said. "How could this have happened in City Hall?"