YOUNGSTOWN Donell Rowe recalls fateful night in April

The bullet, lodged in a back muscle, causes pain, especially when it's cold.
By PATRICIA MEADE
VINDICATOR CRIME REPORTER
YOUNGSTOWN -- Patrolman Michael T. Hartzell's report about Donell Rowe's being shot in the chest at the Casaloma Gardens stops midsentence.
"Report incomplete due to Officer Hartzell's death" was typed in later.
Rowe said some people have mixed feelings about him, thinking he's the reason Hartzell was killed.
"They look at it like, if I hadn't been shot, the officer wouldn't have been shot," Rowe said, leaning forward and clasping his hands. "I'm sorry what happened to the officer, sorry for his family, his fianc & eacute;e."
Rowe, 23, of East Avondale Avenue, was hospitalized for 16 days after the attempt on his life outside the Mahoning Avenue bar at 12:39 a.m. April 29. Less than two hours later, Hartzell, 26, was shot once in the chest and twice in the head in his cruiser downtown.
"I felt bad for the officer. I knew I was lucky," Rowe said. "We were both shot for no reason."
Thursday, a jury found Martin L. Koliser Jr., 30, of Boardman guilty of Hartzell's murder and the attempted murder of Rowe. Jurors will recommend next week if Koliser should die by lethal injection or spend life in prison.
Rowe talked to The Vindicator last week at his 22-year-old girlfriend's Tyrell Avenue apartment. Karen Evans remembered scrambling to find a baby sitter, then rushing to St. Elizabeth Health Center when she got the call that he'd been shot.
Rowe touched his chest as he recalled the impact of the bullet and the blood that wet his shirt.
"I told the lady at the bar to please call 911," Rowe said, his soft voice quivering. "I couldn't breathe, so I went back outside and lay on the sidewalk."
As he lay with his legs curled toward his chest, he heard a woman's voice and felt her hands on him.
"She said, 'Honey, you lay like that, you're gonna die' and then pulled my legs down," Rowe said. "I don't know her name; I'd like to meet her. She put a towel or just her hands on my chest and stayed there until the ambulance came, an older white lady. I'd like to thank her."
Hartzell's involvement
Hartzell, in car 207, was the first officer on the scene. The West Side beat number, 207, remains, but the cruiser that held sorrowful memories for his fellow officers is gone.
In his mind, Rowe can still see Hartzell leaning over him.
"He was screaming at me, asking do I know who shot me -- the lady was still holding my chest," Rowe said. "Then he was demanding, saying 'You know who shot you.'"
Rowe said he didn't know -- he'd never met Koliser before the night at the Casaloma but was able to pick out his picture from a lineup at the hospital.
With pain medication, Rowe was oblivious to the news about Hartzell's death and Koliser's capture in Florida until early May, when the hospital had him moved out of intensive care.
Leaning back on a chair, Rowe gingerly lifted his T-shirt to show the scar from the bullet hole and a long surgery scar on his abdomen.
The bullet remains lodged in a muscle in his back. He said there's pain when it's cold or rainy.
Clear memory
For Rowe, the events that led up to his shooting are clear. He'd gone to the bar with a friend of two years, 23-year-old Frank A. Howley Jr. of Youngstown but didn't smoke marijuana as Howley said in court.
Rowe sat with another friend, ate and had two mixed drinks, gin and orange juice. When it came time to leave, about 12:30 a.m., Rowe walked over to Howley, who was arguing with Koliser, and said in Howley's ear "Are you all right?"
Koliser pulled a gun from his waistband and threatened but didn't shoot.
"I told him 'Go ahead, I'm not scared,'" Rowe said, shaking his head at the memory, "not the smartest thing to say." The shot came a few minutes later when he refused to shake Koliser's hand and accept his apology.
"Everyone started running," Rowe said, including Howley and the lifelong friend he'd called for a ride home, 24-year-old Julian Daatadeen of Boardman. "Frankie and me won't be friends anymore -- he left me there to die."
Rowe said he and Daatadeen, for the past six months, haven't talked like they used to, maybe because of the trial because witnesses aren't allowed to talk to one another.
After the shooting outside the bar, Howley traded cars with Koliser, who, at 2:18 a.m., ended up in front of Hartzell's cruiser at the traffic light at Vindicator Square and West Federal Street. A taxi driver saw Koliser get out of a Lincoln and ambush the officer.
Hartzell was headed to police headquarters on Boardman Street to drop off reports. He'd been at St. Elizabeth Health Center, where he interviewed Daatadeen and learned the suspect, "Marty," was driving a gray Lincoln.
Daatadeen went to the hospital after notifying others about the shooting, Rowe said.
"That night lasted forever," Evans, Rowe's girlfriend, said.
Testifying
Rowe said when he testified at trial, he got "smart-ass" looks from Koliser.
"He rubbed his chest when I was leaving," Rowe said. "He was rubbing [on him] where he shot me."
Koliser, before his capture in Florida, made a list of things he wanted to do when he returned to Ohio. "One of the things he wanted to do was come back and kill me," Rowe said.
Larry D. Allen, Rowe's 46-year-old father, said he watched Koliser in court this past week and got an eerie feeling.
"He's an evil man. His demeanor throughout the trial, it was like a big joke for him," Allen said. "For trying to murder Donell and the murder of officer Hartzell, I believe he should die for what he did. It was a cruel, senseless act."
Evans said Rowe used to want to do things, go places, but that has all changed since the shooting.
"That's true. I don't want to do things -- no motivation," Rowe said. "I will live with this the rest of my life. I'm reminded every time I take my shirt off. It won't ever be over. There's no nightmares, but I think about it every day."
Rowe starts work Monday, changing railroad ties. He believes it will help.
meade@vindy.com