The lobby of the North Hollywood branch of Bank of America was packed on the morning of February 28, 1997.

It was the last day of the month, and it was a Friday, which meant it was

payday. By 9.15 a.m., there were already a few dozen customers in the bank. The branch was on

Laurel Canyon Boulevard in the San Fernando Valley. The valley, as it's referred to in L.A., is the

sprawling network of connected cities

that lie north of the famous areas of downtown L.A., Hollywood, and Santa Monica.

The valley is the more quiet, residential, family-oriented part of the greater Los Angeles area,

at least relative to the continual chaos of tourism, movie premieres,

and general mayhem of the rest of the city. On that morning in February of 1997, the North

Hollywood branch of Bank of America was missing a teller, so the line was long. There was a woman in her

70s, a man with his teenage son,

people cashing paychecks, couples supplying for home loans.

But none of them were prepared when a customer walked out of the doors

on the north side of the bank at roughly 9.20 a.m.

and was thrown back inside and pushed to the floor.

The customers weren't prepared for the two men who stalked inside.

They wore ski masks, combat gear from head to toe, and tactical vests strapped with ammunition.

They carried automatic rifles that most of the customers had only seen in action movies.

The customers still hadn't processed what was about to happen when one of the men shouted

for everyone to get on the ground and to shut their eyes. The other man fired a volley from his

assault rifle into the ceiling. Dust and debris rained down on the customers.

The sound was deafening in the confined space.

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