by David J. Foster
Staff Writer

"I cried all weekend," said Christine Huot, 54. "I'm going to the doctor today to see if there is someone I can talk to about it."

Three days after Huot and 120 others were locked inside the Financial Exchange, Bridge St. and Frankford Ave., during a botched robbery attempt, the five-hour nightmare keeps replaying in her head.

Huot, of the 2400 block of McKinley St., and her three- year-old granddaughter were in the Financial Exchange to pick up a check for Huot's nine-year-old granddaughter. Huot is the girls' guardian. She had no idea how important that role would be last Friday.

"I knew something was wrong when I walked in. There was no guard at the door," said Huot, who entered the building shortly after 10 AM. "To get inside, you must present a welfare identification card. Without it, you don't get in," she said. "But there was no one checking cards."

Then Huot reached the teller. "She was nervous," Huot said. "I kept saying `Take your time, take your time.' I always watch when they count out the money, and she was really messing up. She kept giving me way more money than she should have. I asked if there was anything wrong. She said, `Oh, no, no.'" Then Huot turned around.

Her eyes caught a flash of bright yellow steaming across the front door. Police were cordoning off the building. One customer attempted to leave, but was forced back by police. "That's when everything broke," Huot said.

Huot grabbed an open phone and called her daughter. "Get down here," she shouted. "Something's wrong. They won't let us out, and I've got the baby. I don't know what's going on."

Huot, now joined by other frightened customers, returned to the teller windows. They were empty. The clerks had huddled in a backroom.

The customers did not know of the 15-hours of terror inflicted on Exchange manager Nancy Ruiz. She had been kidnapped the night before and forced to open the Exchange by a gunman wearing a guard's uniform. Police later identified him as John Milbourne.

By the time police surrounded the building, Milbourne was gone.

Huot's daughter arrived at 11 AM and was ushered by police to Pratt St. She could not see her mother or child.

Inside, panic set in. "I'm a diabetic and hadn't eaten a thing that day. I needed orange juice," Huot said. And her granddaughter needed a bathroom.

The clerks, Huot said, would not allow the three-year- old into the back to relieve himself. An hour clicked by. The girl's discomfort intensified. "Finally, this one lady- I donÕt even know her name- grabbed a trash can. Other people took their coats and placed them around my granddaughter so she could go," Huot said.

While most customers cooperated, one man babbled uncontrollably. "We told him if he didn't shut up we were going to gag him," Huot said. "He was frightening us. He kept screaming there was bomb in the back, a bomb on the roof, and someone in the back with a gun."

Police learned of his behavior during an 11 AM phone call to Ruiz, who said there was someone in the facility acting "suspicious." He was later identified by Huot, detained by police, then released.

Despite the confusion, the only time Huot felt in danger was when police began removing customers one at a time.

"I was afraid this was the time we could be hurt," Huot said.

Police greeted each customer with a barricade of black bullet-proof shields and weapons positioned to fire. The police did not know if gunmen were still inside and would try to escape as one of the hostages.

Huot was one of the first out. Police placed shields over her and the child. Huot panicked: "Oh, my God, they're going to shoot us," she thought, believing snipers might be perched on surrounding buildings. We didn't find out what had really happened until we got back to (Northeast Detectives)."

During that debriefing, Huot thought about the many people who behaved "wonderfully" during the crisis, she said, "especially the man from Comcast." An unidentified Comcast salesman, on hand to solicit subscriptions, was trapped inside the building when police moved in. "He calmed everyone down, asked if they were alright, and helped organize the people when it came time to leave," Huot said. "There was no pushing or shoving."

Another woman, watching Huot's granddaughter resting on a coat on the floor, threw herself over the child when the disruptive man shouted "Get back, the police are moving!"

And the police? "They were Outstanding," Huot said. "When we got on the bus to go to (Northeast Detectives), they went to McDonald's and got us 112 hamburgers, french fires, coffee, everything. When I told them I needed orange juice, one policeman practically broke his neck running back to the McDonald's to get it for me.

"It's people like that who should be recognized."