In the Aftermath of Violence, a Wounded Community Slowly Heals
Jeff Bossert wasn’t sipping his oversized cup of Lipton Tea, and James “Hub” Hubbard’s coffee was gone.
Their table at Java Jane’s Coffee Shop in Gulfport was empty.
Nancy Gable, a nearby storeowner, was huddled on the bathroom floor calling the police.
This day the two best friends were unusually separated, one was dead and the other was fleeing.
Witnesses say the argument in Java Jane’s courtyard March 26 started over a pocketknife and ended in murder. Three months later, Hubbard is in the Pinellas County jail charged with first-degree murder and Bossert’s ashes are scattered in the Gulf of Mexico and Boca Ciega Bay.
Gunshots are never normal in Gulfport. Homicide is a word on television, and violence is a drunken fist fight. Residents feel safe and their neighbors don’t scare them.
“We don’t have drive-by shootings. We don’t have the violence associated with urban environments. When you have a murder like that, it has an impact,” said Lt. Ken Dodge. “Many of the officers responding had never seen one before.”
In Pinellas County there were 44 murders in 2002, but none in Gulfport. St. Petersburg’s 19 murders were the highest reported in the county last year. Hubbard’s arrest for murder in March was a first for Gulfport police in 2003.
Bossert’s death brought to the surface some Gulfport residents’ worst fears. The murder made a few look twice at their neighbors and become more cautious about their surroundings.
“It makes you wonder about who exactly is in your space, who is in your boundaries,” Gable, the storeowner said.
Gulfport’s community has the feeling of an extended family. Residents hang work of local artists on their walls, baby-sit each other’s children and tell stories over dinner. Without asking, waitresses know what drink to serve, how patrons like their burgers cooked and whether they prefer a window seat.
Some residents have been in Gulfport their entire lives; others just a few years. Anyone who lives there knows it only takes a week or two to be part of the circle.
Before the shooting, Hubbard and Bossert were an example of Gulfport’s close-knit community.
Their friendship began eight years ago when Bossert ran a halfway house in St. Petersburg. Hubbard would ride his bike to visit simply for the enjoyable conversations.
They shared long hair and the tendency to wear hats. While Bossert’s blue eyes caught attention, Hubbard’s distinctive long gray beard was his trademark.
“They were a lot alike, which is maybe why they stuck together,” said Pat Donachy, owner of Java Jane’s. “It was rare to see one without the other.”
Between their daily meetings at the coffee shop, Hubbard and Bossert had other responsibilities.
Bossert carried Donachy’s groceries and helped with his girlfriend’s bonsai shop. He listened to folk music, hammered nails for Gable and greeted neighbors with a smile.
Hubbard, who was quieter than his friend, watered plants in the courtyard and suggested how Gable could lure in more customers.
That Wednesday, though, changed everything.
A fist fight erupted in the courtyard of Java Jane’s and the men were separated by friends. Bossert was escorted toward the street. Donachy brought Hubbard inside to ice his wounds. When Donachy looked up from the cooler, Hubbard was gone.
Gable, who was working on her art only several hundred feet away, heard the unusual noise.
“I thought ‘Who’s fighting, who would be fighting? No one here fights,’” Gable said. “The only guys out there are the ones who drink coffee every day.”
According to the police report, Hubbard went to his 1993 Chevy Blazer, removed a gun and approached Bossert near the sidewalk. In an attempt to defend himself, Bossert tried to grab the Brico 380 automatic from his friend. The struggle ended, the report said, when Hubbard shot Bossert twice in the head.
“I saw Jeff lying on the ground and my first question was, ‘Where was Hub and where was the gun?’” Gable said.
Bossert’s girlfriend Patty Gross was in her apartment next door to the coffee shop on the computer. She did not know her boyfriend was dead until a police officer knocked on her door.
“In the walkway there was blood everywhere,” she said. “I was staring at his chest and it never moved. I told them not to forget his (false) teeth, but he had been dead before he hit the ground.”
After the yellow tape was removed, a few regulars were missing in Java Jane’s crowd along with Hubbard and Bossert.
Now their table is empty and afternoons are unusually quiet. There is no one to help with the groceries or to hang pictures. And without Hubbard, Gable’s flowers are dying.
But April’s memorial service for Bossert brought together more than 100 from the community to say goodbye.
Through stories and pictures, Gulfport residents shook off their fears and felt comfort in Java Jane’s courtyard again.
The murder still seems to haunts those closest.
“You just never know about people,” Gross said. “We don’t really know our own minds, so how could we know someone else’s?”
