COPS MEET 44 YEARS AFTER TRAGIC SHOOT
Quick action by officer saved life of other Finest shot in 1978 in Harlem
It’s a friendship decades in the making — a cop shot and paralyzed in Harlem 44 years ago has finally met the officer credited with saving his life.
Public Housing Police Officer William McNamara was shot June 10, 1978, in Harlem by a passerby who first asked for the time and then rushed the young officer, grabbing the cop’s service revolver and opening fire with it.
McNamara, then 25, was able to radio for help and within moments, two NYPD officers from the 32nd Precinct, Armando Iazzetti and James McKenny, were at the scene, W. 127th St. and Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Blvd.
Iazzetti loaded McNamara into the back of a police cruiser and McKenny sped to St. Luke’s Hospital. Just the day before, McNamara had received his college degree. At the hospital, he was given his Last Rites.
But he survived — and was told in no uncertain terms he would have died if not for the quick response of his fellow brothers in blue, though at the time the NYPD and Public Housing police were separate departments.
The two finally met May 20 at the 32nd Precinct stationhouse in Harlem at a ceremony honoring officers Wilbert Mora and Jason Rivera, who were shot to death in January responding to a call from a woman being threatened by her son.
“It was nice to meet someone who impacted me so much — he saved my life,” said McNamara, now 69. “If I didn’t get to the hospital when I got there, I wouldn’t be here. Now, he’s what I would consider a dear friend.”
Iazzetti, 72, was admittedly nervous about the meeting and unsure how McNamara has dealt with having to use a wheelchair. But the two men immediately hit it off.
McNamara, part of a support group for wounded officers, gave Iazzetti a coin depicting one officer helping another. “Survive & serve,” the coin reads.
The wounded cop didn’t break down when he finally met Bronx-born Iazzetti — but Iazzetti nearly did.
“He kept telling people, ‘He saved my life,’ and I kind of get embarrassed when people say stuff like that,” the retired sergeant said. “I’m no hero. I’m just a regular Joe.”
The meeting was set in motion five weeks earlier when McNamara attended a ceremony at the 28th Precinct stationhouse where a plaque honoring Officer Phillip Cardillo, killed 50 years ago in a Harlem mosque, was unveiled.
At the ceremony, McNamara met a 32nd Precinct veteran officer who later located Iazzetti and told him McNamara wanted to speak to him. McKenny died years ago.
McNamara and Iazzetti talked on the phone, then agreed to meet in person.
McNamara remembers the shooting vividly — the casual approach by the gunman, Solomon Gideon, 23 and high on angel dust, and the life-and-death struggle on the street, during which Gideon tore the officer’s gun from his holster and fired.
“The only thing he said to me is, ‘Now I’m gonna kill you, whitey,’ ” McNamara remembered. “I heard him cock the gun and rotated my head to the right and instead of taking a head shot I got shot in my rear neck.”
McNamara couldn’t move his legs but he was able to use
his police radio to call for help. Gideon ran off only to return moments later to pistol whip the wounded officer, knocking his teeth out before fleeing again.
Two years later, the Staten Island-born McNamara resigned from the department and sought a whole new career.
He went to graduate school, got an MBA in finance, got married and had a daughter. He worked 30 years for what is now Bristol Meyers Squibb, retiring as global procurement director.
Time and again, he tried without luck to locate Iazzetti.
Unbeknown to McNamara, Iazzetti, now a widowed father of five, had also been trying to locate him.
Now that they’ve met in person, they vow it won’t be the last time.
McNamara’s 18-year-old daughter will soon start college in upstate Binghamton, not far from where Iazzetti now lives. They’ve agreed to meet for dinner.
“Or he can come to my house,” Iazzetti said.
Gideon was busted later that day after he surrendered to his father, who waved a white cloth out his apartment window for police to see.
Convicted of attempted murder, Gideon got 25 years to life. McNamara testified before the parole board eight times and Gideon ended up spending 41½ years behind bars. Finally, he was released in January 2020.
McNamara says he doesn’t give his attacker much thought. He also said he advised parole officials that if he dies before Gideon and his death is ruled a homicide caused by complications from the gunshot wounds decades ago he does not want Gideon charged with murder.
“I just hope he behaves himself — that’s all,” he said.