Killer's Death Stirs Memories of a Deadly October Day in Rockland

Word of the recent death of Marilyn Jean Buck in Brooklyn of uterine cancer brought back many painful memories for Rocklanders who can't forget the deadly day in October 1981 when Buck was part of the terrorist crew that robbed a Brinks armored truck at the Nanuet Mall. Within minutes, a Brinks guard was dead and two Nyack police officers were slain.

Buck escaped arrest on that day, Oct. 20, but she was captured in 1985, hiding in Dobbs Ferry. She was convicted in 1988 of racketeering, armed robbery and murder and was sentenced to 50 years to life in federal prison. In July, she was released from a federal medical center prison in Texas.

In the wake of Buck's death, Patch.com asked retired South Nyack-Grand View Police Chief Alan Colsey to reflect on the day of the robbery, when he captured part of the Brinks gang in Nyack as they were trying to make their getaway. Here are his reflections...

By Alan Colsey

I remember the day clearly, even now. It was a crisp autumn afternoon - sweater weather. Police radio frequencies drone endlessly, then this message:

KEA-323 TO ALL CARS AND STATIONS: ALARM W-WLLLIAM -
3183, W3183. AN ARMED ROBBERY OF AN ARMORED TRUCK
JUST OCCURRED AT THE NANUET MALL IN THE LAST FEW
MINUTES. VEHICLE DESCRIBED AS A RED VAN WITH A SUN
ROOF. THAT IS A RED VAN WITH A SUN ROOF.  LAST SEEN
HEADED ONTO MIDDLETOWN ROAD, NO DIRECTION, NO FURTHER INFORMATION AT THIS TIME. SUPPOSEDLY TWO ARMORED GUARDS HAVE BEEN SHOT. ALARM W-3 183, ARMED ROBBERY, AUTHORITY CLARKSTOWN PD. THE TIME IS 3:56, KEA-323.

Experienced with major felonies in Rockland County, police officers immediately move toward any primary escape routes within their jurisdiction - state highways, interstate highways and the ever-present Tappan Zee Bridge.  As Chief of the South Nyack Police Department, before the consolidation with Grand View, I headed out of my office to join other officers already moving to key locations.

More information - the suspects have switched vehicles and are now believed to be operating a yellow Honda Accord and a U-haul truck, headed toward Rt. 59. Nyack Police officers approach the NYS Thruway entrance at Mountain View Ave. and Rt. 59. Sgt. Edward O'Grady, Detective Arthur Keenan, Officer "Chip" Brown and Officer Brian Lennon are all present when a U-Haul truck is observed approaching.  Sgt. O'Grady directs the placement of the patrol units to prevent entry to the southbound Thruway and then advises his desk officer that they are going to stop the truck for investigation, the time now is 4:00 pm.

I hold my position south of their location, prepared to engage in any possible pursuit of the suspects onto the Thruway. A mere two minutes later the switchboard at Nyack Police headquarters begins to light up with the first reports of what has transpired. Desk Officer Jack McCord transmits the information, the chilling news that still brings a nervous shudder:

I HAVE A REPORT THAT MY CARS ARE SUPPOSEDLY
INVOLVED IN A SHOOTING WITH A U-HAUL TRUCK
AT WALDRON AND 59. . . SHOTS FIRED. . . POSSIBLY
AUTOMATIC WEAPONS...

Then Detective Keenan reports the very worst, directly from the scene:

WE'VE GOT TWO OFFICERS SHOT UP HERE,
MOUNTAIN VIEW AVENUE.

The police radio crackles with more information as it comes in — automatic weapons, definitely automatic weapons; the suspects are fleeing up the hill on Mountain View Avenue in a large white Buick. I fly north on Rte 9W to Rte. 59 and approach the site of the shootings. Utter chaos everywhere I look. People are running - an ambulance on the way to Nyack Hospital is being commandeered to transport the mortally wounded officers. I feel powerless, I wasn't there when it happened, now I'm too late to help and I don't know what to do.

My initial feelings of fear turned to terror, and then to anger. These were police officers, the same as me, but they were also my friends. I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I turned away from the scene of violence and bloodshed, unable and unwilling to interfere with the rescue effort, and turned my unmarked police car back toward Rt. 9W. In that instant I decided the only thing I could do was to try to catch these obvious monsters as they attempted to make their escape toward Christian Herald Road. As it was, I guessed right.

On Christian Herald Road I see the yellow Honda Accord speeding toward me in the opposite direction, travelling east back toward Nyack, with three occupants inside. I back into a nearby driveway to turn around when a speeding car comes within an inch of taking off the front fender of my police car - the white Buick containing three more of the killers. NOW I have them!  Two cars, at least six suspects, and the chase is on.

In the midst of all the chaos and confusion already on the police radio, I report my situation to Officer McCord on the desk at Nyack PD - direction of travel, vehicle descriptions, license plate numbers, etc. while cutting across Rt. 9W, south on Midland Avenue, at 80 miles an hour, passing cars left and right. The Nyack Community Ambulance is pulling out of their barn onto Midland Avenue, responding with lights and siren to the shooting scene at Mountain View Avenue. The traffic light is turning red for Midland Avenue at the intersection of Fifth Avenue. Suddenly the two suspect vehicles turn down Sixth Avenue, avoiding the ambulance and the traffic light. Cars slide, tires spin and gravel flies in all directions. The driving doesn't bother me. What begins to bother me is that they're heading back into the congestion of the center of town. What bothers me more is that I've watched what I believe to be "shooters" move into the back seat area of each of the vehicles. And I can only imagine who or what they may have inside their trunks.

The long hill on Sixth Avenue comes to an end at the bottom in a "T" with Broadway.   It can only be left ... or right into town. The Buick, having passed the Honda on Midland Avenue, is now in the lead. The worst - it turns right, going south on Broadway into Nyack. I begin to slow coming down the hill behind the Honda, continuing the pursuit. Crash!!!   The Honda skids across Broadway and into a concrete wall and stairs next door to the "Pretty Penny" home of actress Helen Hayes.

Now what? I slow to a stop and wait. Back thirty or so yards behind them I watch to see if the Honda will continue the attempted escape or if the Buick will return, possibly coming up behind me. Nothing. I turn the front wheels and the engine block in a direct line of cover and defense between me and the Honda. I request back-up and exit the driver's door onto my knees, staying low and drawing my service revolver across the hood of my car, aimed at the immobile Honda and its occupants. The time is 4:11 pm.

They hit the wall too hard, the Honda won't move. Judith Clarke opens the passenger door and puts her feet on the pavement while remaining seated in the car. She's trying to reach behind her seat to get at something on the rear floor. David Gilbert exits the driver's side and begins to walk slowly back in my direction. I yell at them to get away from the car, keep their hands up where I can see them. Clarke ignores my orders and Gilbert tells me that he needs my help because his friends have been hurt in the accident. Yeah, I think, and my friends have just been shot, by you, and that was not by accident.

Meanwhile, Clarke continues to fish around behind her seat. Pedestrians begin to approach the crashed car to render assistance. I yell, mostly expletives, to stay away from the car, stay back!!  Unknown at the time to these civilians, or me, is that Gilbert is distracting me on one side while waiting for the back seat occupant, Samuel Brown, to take me out. But Brown has been too badly injured in the crash and is out of action. That leaves Judith Clarke to undertake her fishing expedition — for the loaded 9mm semi-automatic that has fallen out of Brown's hands onto the back floor of the Honda.

I wait. I yell. I scream. I call McCord back on the radio to request assistance, again. This time Chief Thomas Coffey answers, as McCord has left the police station to try and cut off the white Buick on its way south on Broadway. I tell the Chief I have two suspects at gunpoint and likely a third.  He orders any available units to respond to my location to assist. Orangetown Police Officer Michael Seidel does, 12 gauge shotgun in hand. I wanted to kiss him. The time is 4:15 pm.

As additional units arrive at Sixth and Broadway we are able to take control of the scene and make the necessary arrests of the three "perps." The 9mm pistol is secured from the back of the Honda and we carefully approach the trunk area to further investigate. No more suspects, only green bank bags. Inside the bags we discover proceeds of the robbery, $1.3 million intended for the Federal Reserve.

The tension and chaos begin to recede. The white Buick, driven by Marilyn Jean Buck, has made good its escape. But the news from the hospital, delivered to me by off-duty Nyack Police Officer Pete Cacciamani, is that "Chip" Brown is dead and that Eddie O'Grady is fighting for his life. As it was, they both lost.

The hours, days and weeks that followed — the identifications, the searches, the hearings, the security vigils. . . the mourning, the funerals, the trials — revealed the horrific act these "terrorists" had brought upon a Brink's guard and two heroic cops, as well as the shocking reality that the citizens of bucolic Rockland County had forever lost their innocence. None of us would ever be the same.