Behind The Smile

Stephen Deere and Doug Moore: Kirkwood — In his hands were a bank ledger, an envelope of money and a photo album.

He knocked on the door of Chuck Runnels' home and flashed that wide, toothy smile that made everyone feel comfortable calling him "Cookie."

It was Feb. 7, three hours before Charles Lee "Cookie" Thornton walked through the doors of City Hall carrying two handguns. Three hours before six people would be dead, Thornton among them.

"I need you to do me a favor," Thornton said.

Runnels said Thornton wanted him to hold on to the money and photos from a civic group they had helped to start. Thornton didn't say why. Runnels never thought to ask. The friends had known each other since kindergarten.

"I automatically assumed he was going to Florida for a couple of weeks," Runnels said. "I wish I would have said, 'Cookie, why are you dropping this off?'"

Now a series of "if-onlys" flit through Runnels' mind. Did he miss a sign that something was wrong? Could he have changed anything with a question?

But no one seemed to know the level of anguish behind Thornton's smile. His deception. His delusion. His demons.