Hot on the Trail

Samantha Schink's classmates helped rescue her just in time.

The Attack

In the summertime, Samantha Schink rode her purple bike all over her hometown of Nampa, Idaho. She pedaled to summer-school classes and the rec center, where she swam and lifted weights. A petite five-foot-three high school senior, Sammy never worried about safety in the quiet streets of her rural community. One warm evening last August, as she rode on the sidewalk along South Powerline Road, she heard a car engine slowing behind her. Before she could turn to look, the car jumped the curb and rammed into her bike, bending the rear tire and sending her sprawling onto the grass. A burly man with a brown buzz cut hopped out of the gray Dodge Stratus and ran up to her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Sammy got to her feet. "I'm fine." But when she tried to get back on her bike, the stranger grabbed her and pushed her to the ground, she later testified. He covered her mouth with his hand, she said, and started tearing at her white tank top and sports bra. Sammy kicked and clawed, but she was no match for the stranger, who was a powerfully built five feet, nine inches and 195 pounds. Her screams vanished into the night.

Heroes With No Special Plans

"Hey, look at that!" Luke Schumacher slowed his Jeep Cherokee along the dark street, where only a few lights glowed from the thin scattering of homes. About 100 yards ahead, a car had jumped the curb. They could see its red taillights bobbing in the blackness.

Luke and three of his buddies were on their way across town to pick up another friend. As usual on summer evenings, the boys had no special plans. Maybe play some Xbox, cruise around town, stop at Taco Bell or Wal-Mart.

But now, the teens saw a girl lying on the ground. "Pull over," said Zachary McIntyre from the backseat. As they approached, a man ran to the car and sped away.

The girl got up and ran to their window, screaming. It was one of their classmates, Sammy Schink. Her top was ripped, and she had scratches across her chest and neck.

"What happened?" the boys all yelled at once. Zach and Matt Rodriguez jumped out of the Jeep. Luke gunned the engine and took off after the Dodge. It was several hundred yards ahead, careening down South Powerline on three tires. The front right tire had blown out, and the car was riding on the wheel rim -- sparks shooting into the black night. The driver switched off his headlights and turned left onto York Street. Luke made the turn too.

Drew Jenkins clambered up to the Jeep's front seat as he punched in 911 on his cell phone. "Someone's been hit on a bike," he said. "We're following the guy who hit her." As they sped through the looping streets of a subdivision, Drew rattled off the names to the operator: "We're on York. Now we're on Crestview."

Meanwhile, back on the sidewalk, Zach and Matt were trying to calm their sobbing classmate. "He tried to rape me!" she told them. But before she could finish describing what happened, the blast of a car horn jolted the three teens.

We Might Never Have Caught Him

The Dodge was back, heading directly toward them. Through the window, the driver looked ominously muscular. Zach, at five feet, ten inches, weighed just 155 pounds. But he was intent on stopping the hit-and-run driver. As Zach stepped off the curb, the Dodge swerved toward him.

Zach stretched to open the driver's door. No luck. He chased the car on foot, out of sheer desperation. The rattling Dodge kept going, blowing past stop signs and a red light. In the Jeep, Luke leaned on the horn while both boys yelled out the windows, "Stop the car!" The end came when they turned down Fern Street, which dead-ended at an open field. The car rammed into a ditch and finally stopped.

For the first time, a thread of fear crept into the boys' minds. "What if he has a gun?" Luke wondered. "We better stay back."

But without a look in their direction, the man jumped out and took off running. Several miles away, police apprehended Mark Mead, a registered sex offender on parole for a 1992 rape conviction. Mead, 35, was later acquitted of attempted rape, but convicted of reckless driving, leaving the scene of an accident, and resisting arrest. He was sentenced to three to five years in prison.

Assistant Police Chief Timothy Vincent praised the four friends for getting involved. "Without their help," he said, "we might never have gotten the guy."

The boys themselves are more modest. "I may be a hero in some people's eyes, but my dad's the real hero," said Matt Rodriguez. His father, a serviceman, was in Iraq.