MODESTO — Deputy Bob Paris wasn't supposed to work the morning of April 12.
He should have been at the dentist getting a crown repaired, according to a Modesto police report obtained this week, featuring gripping transcripts from witnesses to a bloody ambush.
But the dental appointment was moved to the afternoon, so Paris adjusted his time off and showed up for work as usual that morning.
It would be his last.
"The way the rounds came through the door, it's a high-powered rifle," Stanislaus County sheriff's deputy Mike Glinskas, Paris' partner, said in an interview with police two hours after the deadly eviction attempt. "(Bullets) went through that door like Swiss cheese."
"Are you sick to your stomach at all?" a detective asked Glinskas a bit later.
"No, just, I'm very I feel very lost. It's like, what else could I have done?"
The slayings of Paris, 53, and locksmith Glendon Engert, 35, have been well-documented, with media helicopters capturing the ensuing 11-hour standoff and inferno, numerous Bee accounts and a lengthy independent review shared publicly by Sheriff Adam Christianson on Feb. 1.
That review blamed gunman Jim Ferrario, 45, and said members of the Sheriff's Department might have avoided tragedy by paying more attention to red flags.
The newly released police report agrees.
"I stressed to her, 'You need to tell (deputies) that (Ferrario) has been seen with M16s (assault rifles) and other guns and there's a possibility that he has bombs in that house,' " eviction expert Paul Tunison told detectives, recounting specific warnings issued to a sheriff's clerk before the slayings.
"I went so far as to say, 'Listen, I know I told you guys this stuff before. This is serious. Something doesn't look right.' "
A few minutes later, a detective asked, "And you made it real clear that this guy was dangerous?"
"Dude. Crystal clear," Tunison replied.
The clerk and a supervising sergeant repeated the warnings in papers given to the deputies, both reports say. The February review says they received special safety training that morning.
Glinskas told detectives he remembered reading that Ferrario could be "delusional," "unstable" and well-armed. Although Glinskas had begun serving evictions only three weeks before, he and Paris had success "selling" people on leaving peacefully, the police report says.
"We have never argued with anybody," Glinskas said. Referring to official notices posted five days before an eviction, he said: "It's not anything (like) a surprise. It's not like they don't know. They know we're coming."
Since the slayings, the department has changed policy to reduce the likelihood of someone lying in wait.
But nothing seemed out of sorts in the quiet Whispering Woods neighborhood that morning, Glinskas said. They met Engert, who began drilling the lock to a heavy security door, then paused.
"He said, 'I think I hear somebody in, you know, like somebody's in the house,' " Glinskas recalled.
That moment figures in a federal lawsuit brought by Engert's widow against the county; his parents also are positioning to sue, according to claims listed on Tuesday's county Board of Supervisors' meeting agenda.
Shots rang out moments after Engert resumed drilling.
The lawsuit and claims say deputies owed the locksmith better protection. The February review, conducted by renowned law enforcement experts, says they never should have approached the door, knowing what they knew.
"All of a sudden, I see a projectile or something whiz out the door, and that's when Bob fell and I just started shooting," Glinskas told detectives.
"The locksmith started running down the path, then all of a sudden he went down.
"I was waiting for him to (shoot) again. You know, I've seen people shot before in the military and Bob didn't say, 'I'm hurt, I'm bleeding.' He didn't cough blood. He just turned ashen white, like that. I mean, you know, just in my heart I kind of knew he was gone.
"And then the MPD showed up. They parked all the way down the street. I'm like, 'Oh, God, get closer.' You know, this one time I want lots of cops around me."
Glinskas had returned fire, he told detectives, hoping to pin Ferrario inside. It worked, but Glinskas was trapped behind a small tree.
He considered grabbing his partner's body and making a run for it. But Paris clearly was dead and Glinskas knew he would be an easy target, so he stayed put and silently urged police to hurry to his rescue.
"When somebody shoots at an officer, I mean, there's just no other choice. You feel they're going to kill us. If he had seen me, he would have killed me, too.
"I just kneeled down, sucked into that tree and I just sat there with my bullets 'cause I figured I'm just going to start firing if he comes out, 'cause that's my only hope. I'm just waiting for the firefight."
About that time, Glinskas shooed away a man on foot in the neighborhood.
Next door to the shooting, a man who had moved from Stockton four months before looked out to see two bodies only a few yards away. "I didn't expect that kind of stuff, you know, especially in the morning. I was like, 'Wow, what the hell?' " Richard Peraza told detectives.
Across the street, a 17-year-old boy saw much of the action and used his cell phone to record the tense recovery of bodies by officers unsure of what to expect from a madman barricaded inside.
The fourplex went up in flames later that night and Ferrario's body was recovered the next morning, propped against a bathtub, an assault rifle in his lap and numerous firearms and ammunition nearby. An autopsy determined he breathed in soot, meaning he was alive during the fire before shooting himself twice.
Glinskas' daughter, attending a university in another state, learned of the shootings in social media. His wife told her in a text message that he was safe. He was honored for bravery in August.
Detective Michael Hicks, the incident's lead investigator, came to the same conclusion as independent experts. Citing numerous written warnings, Hicks wrote, "It appears that deputies Glinskas and Paris had the information prior to going to the residence."
Bee staff writer Garth Stapley can be reached at email@example.com or (209) 578-2390.