WILMINGTON - Deputy Christopher Long hovered over the right shoulder of the guy whose job it was to get into Peyton Strickland's home the easy way: knock and be invited inside.

Long's task that evening -- Friday, Dec. 1 -- was riskier. If he and the rest of the New Hanover County Sheriff's paramilitary team had to charge through the front door with a battering ram, Long would be the first inside. He would hunt for guns and order everyone in the house to get down, District Attorney Ben David said.

Long didn't set foot in the house.

Instead, he fell apart in the yard -- crying "Oh Jesus, oh Jesus" -- after he unleashed a string of bullets at Strickland through the door, said Sharika Hankins, a member of the grand jury who heard an agent from the State Bureau of Investigation describe that night, and who disagreed with the group's decision to not indict Long on a charge of second-degree murder.

One bullet blew through Strickland's brain; another struck his chest, barely missing his heart. He died nearly four hours later.

In just two minutes, a search that had come together in a single afternoon collapsed. With it, so did the 10-year career of a law enforcement officer. Long is being criminally investigated for killing Strickland. The sheriff's team was there to clear the way for campus police from UNC-Wilmington to arrest Strickland, 18, on charges of beating a student and robbing him of two PlayStation 3 video game systems two weeks before, according to a search warrant. UNCW police had hoped to find one of the scarce $641 machines at the house and planned to arrest two of Strickland's friends -- Ryan David Mills and Braden Riley -- in the robbery.

Collision course

The day began simply enough for Strickland and Long.

Strickland, a Durham native, didn't have classes that day at Cape Fear Community College, so he and his roommate, Mike Rhoton, cleaned the house, Rhoton said.

Long, meanwhile, had a normal workday. As a full-time member of the sheriff's department's Emergency Response Team, he patrolled the county's schools, ready for action should a shooter attack or someone threaten to set off a bomb, Sheriff Sid Causey said.

Sometime that afternoon, UNCW Police Chief David Donaldson called the sheriff's office, Causey said. The campus police needed help with their investigation into the beating of a UNCW freshman and the theft of the PlayStations two weeks before. Causey was out, so a secretary patched him through to Chief Deputy Tom Parker, Causey said.

Donaldson asked whether the UNCW officers -- restricted from policing off-campus -- could get help from the Emergency Response Team for a high-risk search on Long Leaf Acres Drive. Parker, the only man besides the sheriff who can mobilize the team to help another agency, sent the team's commander, Lt. Doug Price, to meet with Donaldson and get more details, Causey said.

UNCW officers and Price pored over a map of the quiet residential neighborhood where Strickland lived, Causey said. Price read a draft of the search warrant and checked out an Internet picture of Mills, 20, of Durham, who police suspected was Strickland's accomplice. In the photo, which was attached to the search warrant, Mills is flanked by two armed buddies, smirking as he clutches a shotgun.

Price agreed that it might be a dangerous trip to the house on Long Leaf Acres Drive. He told the sheriff later that day that the team ought to get involved, Causey said.

Price made a few passes by the mustard brown brick rental home so he could draw a map and show his men, Causey said. He called nine of his deputies together that evening and spelled out the plan:

Seven would cluster on the 8-foot-wide porch, ready to force their way inside if the young men did not open the door when the deputies knocked, Causey said. One deputy would stake out the rear of the house with his police dog, in case the boys bolted out the back. Price would hang back in the yard with six UNCW officers, Causey said.

While the deputies prepped, UNCW Detective Chris Padgett went to meet with a magistrate and swear that everything he had written in his warrant to search 533 Long Leaf Acres Drive was true. At 6:20, Magistrate Brad Sanders scribbled his OK to search the home for the PlayStation 3 console, according to the warrant.

Attempting the search

About 8:30 p.m., 16 uniformed officers swarmed the half-acre property, according to Causey and the warrant. Deputies massed on the porch. One deputy, whose name hasn't been released, stood in the center, clutching a battering ram. Long was to his right.

Inside, Rhoton and Strickland were taking a break from cleaning to play the latest Tiger Woods golf video game on the PlayStation in the living room, Rhoton said.

A deputy rapped on the door. Strickland, sitting on the edge of the couch nearest to the front door, headed to the foyer. Rhoton paused the game and stayed on the couch.

As Strickland turned left into the foyer, he stared out the door's three small windows at the team of heavily armed deputies, David said.

What happened next isn't quite clear.

David, the district attorney, said in court that Strickland looked to his right, then stepped back into the living room. The deputy, taking that as a sign he was refusing to let them in, knocked again, then charged the door with the battering ram. Long mistook the hammering of the ram for the blast of a gun and opened fire, David said.

Rhoton said he heard only a thud -- likely the battering ram -- and a series of gunshots.

Strickland staggered back, spun around and fell to the floor in the living room, just behind the couch where he had been sitting moments before, Rhoton said.

Blaze, Strickland's German shepherd, bounded to the now open door, David said. Long fired at Blaze, and his fellow deputies, Larry Robinson and Greg Johnson, shot at the dog, too, David said. Blaze yelped and faltered to the porch, staining it with his blood as he died, Rhoton said.

Long stumbled back in the yard, Hankins, the juror, recalled the SBI saying. Other deputies announced themselves and charged the house, Rhoton said.

Rhoton said as he started to stand, a deputy ordered him down on the floor in front of the sofa and pointed a shotgun at him. Rhoton heard Strickland moaning and vomiting; he begged the officers to help his friend.

Records from the county 911 communications center show that it took nearly four minutes for the nearest ambulance to arrive, almost five minutes more to load Strickland on a stretcher and 14 minutes to drive across town to the hospital.

Rhoton doesn't understand the need for such force.

The door wasn't even locked.

Families find out

Deputies finally allowed Rhoton to stand up after they had taken Strickland away, Rhoton said. They escorted him to a police Chevy Tahoe in the yard. Police searched for the PlayStation; they found one like it and collected several pipes for smoking marijuana, according to the search warrant.

Three miles away, Mills, who police think committed the robbery with Strickland, rushed to Long Leaf Acres Drive, friends have said. Someone had called to tell him there was trouble at Strickland's place. After he stepped out of the car, UNCW police handcuffed him and searched his Toyota Celica. Inside the trunk, they found a loaded shotgun, said Donaldson, the UNCW police chief.

A neighbor who heard the commotion made a call to Kevin Riley in Apex, the father of Braden Riley, a roommate who lived in the house. There has been trouble at your boy's place, shots fired and police everywhere, the neighbor told the elder Riley, according to Strickland's father Don and 911 records.

Riley's father knew his son was out of town but frantically rang New Hanover dispatchers shortly before 10 p.m. to find out what had happened.

Braden Riley, who had been called by his dad, rang Strickland's parents in Durham to tell them what his dad had heard. Don Strickland said he called the Wilmington police three times, trying to find out what was going on. No one would answer his questions.

It wasn't until 11 p.m. that Don Strickland learned that his son had been hurt. A trauma surgeon at New Hanover Regional Medical Center called to tell him that Strickland had been shot in the head. He was on life support and likely brain-dead, the surgeon said. Don Strickland, his wife, Kathy, and daughter Collin jumped in the car and rushed to Wilmington.

Halfway there, on a barren, dark stretch of Interstate 40, Don Strickland's phone rang again. His son didn't make it.

(Staff writer Jim Nesbitt and researcher Brooke Cain contributed to this report.)

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