The heavy afternoon sun beat down on the bustling Brooklyn streets as Sonny Wortzik and his accomplice Sal Naturile approached the First Brooklyn Savings Bank. The front doors swung open with an unsettling clang, drawing the attention of the few tellers and customers scattered inside. Sonny’s heart pounded in his chest, but his face portrayed fear as he stepped into the bank, his demeanor a mix of determination and desperation.

Sonny quickly scanned the room, noting the exits and the security guard by the door. He nodded to Sal, who nervously adjusted the strap of his duffel bag. Clearing his throat, Sonny pulled out a concealed rifle from his hidden gift box and raised his voice to command attention. “Everybody stay calm! This is a robbery!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the marble floors and high ceilings.

He and Sal visibly trembled as they stated their demands to the tellers. As the seconds ticked by, Sonny’s mind raced, calculating every possible outcome, every potential threat. He held his rifle tightly in his hand, shaking as he moved the hostages together, his eyes landing on one bank teller in particular causing his hands to get clammy, sweat beading down his cheeks, and his own face visibly distressed.