The great new reality of Chicago...concealed carry

Concealed carry shootings now part of Chicago's gun reality

John Hendricks recalls a split second between impulse and action before he took aim and shot Everardo Custodio just before midnight on April 17 after Custodio opened fire on a group in Logan Square.

Hendricks was not charged for shooting the 23-year-old because he had a concealed carry gun license and was determined to have acted in self-defense. But he said he was questioned for hours by detectives after the shooting and, seven months later, hasn't gotten his Springfield Armory .45 back from authorities.

Still, the 48-year-old South Sider said he doesn't begrudge police for the glacial movement.

"This is all new," Hendricks said, "because of the concealed carry."

The 2013 passage of a concealed carry law in Illinois — the last state in the nation to approve one — has led to a relatively small yet recurring dynamic in Chicago shootings: the lawful gunman.

Those with a concealed carry license who used their weapons have rarely spoken out about their experience.

But in a Tribune exclusive, Hendricks recounted the chaotic minutes from the night he shot Custodio.

Hendricks — an Army veteran, Uber driver, scuba diver and amateur photographer — is among 136,920 Illinoisans who had concealed carry licenses as of Nov. 3, according to state police.

How many times these Illinoisans unholstered their guns and fired remains unclear, as state police say no mechanism exists to track such incidents.

To be sure, they're nowhere near as frequent as those involving unlicensed shooters and illegal firearms. But a handful of high-profile shootings involving licensed concealed carriers since the law went into effect in January 2014 highlight this latest evolution in Chicago's relationship with guns.

Reginald Gildersleeve was shot dead last month by a concealed carry gun holder after Gildersleeve tried to rob a Gage Park corner store, police said.

A service member shot and wounded a gunman who opened fire on a group of people at a West Pullman party in July 2014.

Later that month, a man attempted to help police foil an armed robbery at a south suburban Crestwood phone store by firing at the fleeing suspect. A police officer had to duck for cover when the unidentified license holder fired at the suspect.

None of those shooters was charged. Illinois law says firearms can be used in cases of imminent danger and in defense of self and others.

While political rhetoric continues to swirl around the issue, Hendricks said he sees his concealed carry license as a right, and a way to stay safe.

"Living in Chicago, it used to be, 'don't go out at night,' or 'be more careful at night,'" he said. "It's turned into a place where it doesn't matter if it's day or night."

'Something was needed'

On the night Hendricks unholstered his gun, he was taking a break between Uber fares and was parked in the 2900 block of North Milwaukee Avenue, just north of Central Park Avenue, according to his account and court records.

He heard Custodio yelling to a group on Hendricks' side of the street and initially thought the man was shouting in a friendly, Friday-night fashion to his friends.

"But when I saw him rack the gun, I put two and two together," Hendricks said. "Something's about to go down right now, right in front of me."

Custodio started firing. Hendricks can't recall exactly how close he was.

"Close enough to hear the sound of that gun, feel in danger and actually see him pulling the trigger," Hendricks recalled. "Close enough."

He thought about speeding away.

"I would've been driving right through gunfire," Hendricks said. "As you're thinking, time's ticking. Things are escalating. Things are getting worse. So at one point, you've got to make the best decision."

He fired what police reports estimated to be about six shots at Custodio, striking the illegal gunman in the shin, thigh and stomach, according to court records.

Custodio collapsed, his targets scattered and Hendricks sped to safety before calling 911. He later found a bullet hole near the lug nut of his rear driver's-side tire.

Police responded to the scene after hearing the gunfire and found Custodio lying on the sidewalk with multiple gunshot wounds, surrounded by shell casings, according to a police report.

A "blue steel firearm" was recovered by evidence technicians about 15 feet from where Custodio was taken into custody, according to court records.

He pleaded guilty in August to charges of aggravated discharge of a firearm and aggravated unlawful use of a weapon, receiving concurrent sentences of four years and three years, respectively, according to Cook County state's attorney's office spokeswoman Sally Daly.

Hendricks returned to the scene when police arrived and held his arms in the air, concealed carry and firearm owner identification cards in hand.

He said it was a common-sense approach after what had transpired.

"A shooting just happened," Hendricks said. "I'm the one that called, and I'm the shooter."

"At the time, I remembered I still had my firearm on me," he recalled. "I let them know that my firearm's on my right side."

Police disarmed and questioned Hendricks at the scene before more questioning at a police station that stretched through the night.

He said he was treated well but wished detectives had let him order a pizza.

"You had just went through something that was tremendous, and something new, so there's a moment that you know there's going to be a long process," Hendricks said.

Police have yet to return his firearm and are not returning his calls, he said.

Police spokesman Anthony Guglielmi said an investigation into the gun was ongoing and that he did not know when it would be complete.

He declined to comment on the specifics but said such investigations can include ballistic testing, trace comparison and other means of finding out if a firearm was involved in other incidents.

Police representatives said this week that a Tribune open records request filed Oct. 27 for the entire case record was still pending.

At the time of the shooting, Uber policy mandated that its contractors abide by local laws. Uber later banned gun possession by passengers and drivers, according to company representatives.

Hendricks said he remains an eligible driver but hasn't done work for Uber in a few months.

He doesn't consider himself a hero, just someone who was able to stop a threat to his safety. He said he never spoke to Custodio's targets after the shooting.

"There was a threat to me and I helped somebody in the process as well," Hendricks said. "It's a positive feeling."

But Hendricks said first and foremost, he had wanted to get away from Custodio's gunfire.

"The last resort is to stop a threat or end a threat," he said. "When people say things happen fast — it does. You either rely on your training or you rely on your instinct. Everything becomes more reliable. Your training, your instincts, your gut. Everything."

'Too much ill intent'

Charles Houston said his friendship with Hendricks is the type in which they don't speak for long periods, but then pick up right where they left off.

The 53-year-old information technology specialist met Hendricks when they both lived in South Chicago, and Hendricks asked Houston to teach him martial arts.

Houston said he was "pretty shocked" when Hendricks told him about the shooting.

"I understand the stress it put him under," Houston said. "He was pretty shook up by the whole thing."

Houston said the incident falls in line with his friend's character: Hendricks, he said, is protective of himself and others.

While he doesn't question his friend's reaction to the shooter, Houston said he is generally against concealed carry in Illinois.

"We're not on the same page with that," he said.

Houston said he's fine with gun carriers in some areas but that it doesn't work everywhere — certainly not in Chicago.

He recalled living just outside Phoenix for years. There, he said, gun carrying was common, and it wasn't problematic.

"The problem is everyone who has ill intent," he said. "And there is an overwhelming number in Chicago that do. ... Too many illegal guns and too much ill intent."

It's a perilous combination to have concealed carriers side by side with illegal gun toters, Houston said. Still, he's glad his friend had his gun that night. He has tried to be there for Hendricks since it happened.

"I don't think that's something you can easily forget," Houston said. "I wish it hadn't happened at all."

'You're never looking for trouble'

Hendricks said he was formally trained to handle firearms while in the Army but that he also grew up around guns. He recalled his dad taking him to shoot while on family vacations in Arkansas, where he first learned to be safe and respectful around guns.

He said the 16 hours of training required to receive an Illinois concealed carry license are "very, very good."

"I'm a strong advocate of training," Hendricks said. "Training, training, training."

He said he owns "quite a few" guns and has several holsters and fanny packs for when he's out in public. During a recent interview, the gun on Hendricks' hip was not apparent until he pointed it out.

"You're not always conscious of carrying," he said, just like you aren't always conscious of carrying a wallet.

Hendricks said he's a stickler for the concealed carry rules — even when they aren't convenient. He has gotten used to turning back when he sees a "no gun" sign on a Chicago storefront.

Once, he said, he stopped short outside a University Village Quizno's. An employee out front was sweeping. Hendricks told the employee he had a gun on him and the employee said to go in anyway. But Hendricks said he wouldn't.

"It says 'law-abiding' for a reason," he said of the concealed carry law. "I'm going to abide."

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