By Tom O'Neill
The Cincinnati Enquirer

LUDLOW - Nothing heroic here. Don't even whisper the word.

Ron Lantz of Ludlow outside his Poplar Street home Thursday. (Craig Ruttle photo) | ZOOM |

That's Ludlow truck driver Ron Lantz's take.

Problem is, after Thursday, he might have a hard time finding anyone - from the nation's capital to his cheering Northern Kentucky neighborhood - who will agree with him.

Mr. Lantz, 61, a grandfather who has just five more runs scheduled before retiring to Florida, called 911 early Thursday morning, saying a Chevrolet Caprice with New Jersey plates he had just seen at a Maryland highway rest area fit the description of the wanted vehicle in the D.C. sniper case.

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Police in Maryland confirmed the overall details of his account, but said they received several calls and could not identify any callers by name.

"I'm no hero," Mr. Lantz said, moments after arriving home on Poplar Street in Ludlow, his 5-year-old granddaughter, Karyn, clutching his leg. "I done my job, what I thought had to be done - but I'm no hero."

His daughter, Ronda Zwick of Ludlow, is among those who don't agree.

`Crazy, crazy day'

"I don't even think he realizes what he's done," she said. "It's been a crazy, crazy day."

It's a day that actually started late Wednesday night, when Maryland authorities at a press conference released a description of a vehicle: blue Chevrolet Caprice with New Jersey plates.

While listening to The Truckin' Bozo radio show on Cincinnati's WLW-AM, Mr. Lantz wrote it all down.

"I hope," he said, "I did the right thing."

An hour or so later, he was in the middle of the story that has gripped the nation when he pulled into the rest area off Interstate 70 in Frederick County, Md., and noticed the car under a light, a young man standing at the passenger door with something in his hand.

Mr. Lantz said he parked 50 yards away and called 911, just after 3 a.m. The dispatcher instructed him to stay away from the vehicle but to block the exit with his rig. He and another trucker did just that.

"I just thought, `Now's the time,' " he recalled. "They couldn't get away."

He was anxious, but not afraid.

About 10 minutes later, he said, he watched as dozens of police from the sniper task force surrounded the Caprice, guns drawn. The suspects appeared to have been sleeping.

Familiar with territory

Mr. Lantz knows the rest stop well because he's been stopping there twice a week for years. It's the only one between Baltimore and Hagerstown, Md.

The 400-mile trip from Maryland behind him Thursday afternoon, he stepped out of his rig in a red flannel shirt, baseball cap and work boots. He was met by gawking neighbors and reporters from throughout the region.

"I think he would have killed somebody right in that rest area," he speculated. "It's odd the way things fall in place."

Poplar Street on Thursday had a circus feel, with neighbors pouring onto their front porches as TV news trucks set up their remote feeds.

It's an out-of-the-way corner of Ludlow, wedged against the Savannah Foods Industrial plant and the Southern railroad tracks. A block away, the two towers of the First Baptist Church rise above all else.

Benny Johnson, Ludlow's assistant police chief, said he knows Mr. Lantz from seeing him around town and described him as "a pretty decent guy.''

"Who would ever suspect someone from Ludlow actually spotting these snipers in Maryland?'' Mr. Johnson said.

Ludlow Councilwoman Cindy Schachere said she talked to Mr. Lantz on Sunday when she heard that he wanted information on the city's proposed tax for fire service.

"When my girlfriend called me (Thursday) with the news (about Mr. Lantz), I looked at my son, Tony, and said, `You're not going to believe this.' "

"It's unbelievable," said Jeff Moore, 46, who lives four doors down on Poplar.

Neighbors proud

When Mr. Lantz told reporters he would "turn right around" and give (any reward money) to victims' families, his neighbors broke out in applause.

"I'm proud of my neighbor," Mr. Moore said. "This is amazing."

Unlike every other neighbor in this old-feel riverside city, he's also grateful - in a unique way.

He and his wife, Sandy, grew up in Prince George's County, Md., near several shooting sites. Both still have family there. Mrs. Moore has been too fearful to visit his brother, who is hospitalized.

"We've been on the phone a lot the past few weeks," Mr. Moore said. "My friend said the streets down there are like ghost towns."

He has friends who live within a mile of the school where the 13-year-old boy was shot and critically wounded Oct 7, one of three victims the sniper didn't kill.

Mr. Lantz has been closely watching the news too, and a week ago joined a group of about 50 truckers at an impromptu prayer session over the sniper case. It was just 25 miles from where the apprehension occurred.

Mr. Lantz said he's a devout Christian who believes that his being in that place, at that time, is no coincidence.

"You don't think the Lord works in mysterious ways?" he said.

Mr. Lantz hauls plastics to make storm doors. Same route every time, Ludlow to Monroe, Ohio, to Wilmington, Del., then back home via I-70 in Maryland.

His employer, Bass Transportation in Flemington, N.J., confirmed Mr. Lantz works there and was in the Maryland area early Thursday, but declined further comment, saying it has been inundated with calls from national media.

Mr. Lantz turns 62 on Dec. 12, mandatory retirement age. His next scheduled trip is Monday, and he said he has every intention of making it.

Enquirer reporters James Pilcher, Cindy Schroeder and William A. Weathers contributed to this article.

E-mail toneill@enquirer.com

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