Livonia police officers packed a hot courtroom Wednesday -- some of them standing in the aisles -- as a judge sentenced a Detroit man to 100-150 years in prison for his role in the shooting death of a police officer in January.
Terry Bowling, 49, a habitual criminal, showed no reaction as Oakland County Circuit Judge Michael Warren sentenced him.
Warren sentenced him to the high end of the state's guidelines and said Bowling, a drug addict, had "utter disregard for the law, a selfish man unwilling or unable to live in a civilized world."
Earlier in the hearing, Bowling -- in orange jail garb and shackled at the waist -- apologized to the family of Officer Larry Nehasil, 49, who died during a shootout Jan. 17 in a Walled Lake neighborhood.
"The loss of life they're suffering through. I'm terribly sorry for that. It's a terrible thing," Bowling said.
The sentencing ends any hope for Bowling to walk free someday. In September, he pleaded no contest to second-degree murder with hopes that the judge would sentence him to the guidelines' minimum of 30.4 years.
The long sentence pleased those in the courtroom.
"We are elated," said Curtis Caid, interim chief of the Livonia Police Department and Nehasil's brother-in-law.
Bowling's attorney, Randall Lewis, pleaded for leniency and left without talking to reporters.
Bowling and his brother, David Bowling, were committing a string of home invasions in January and were under surveillance by Livonia police when they broke into a home in Walled Lake. Nehasil confronted David Bowling in the backyard. Both men died in the shootout.
Terry Bowling attempted to flee the scene and rammed police cars, but was apprehended within seconds. He was charged with first-degree murder because he was committing a felony -- home invasion -- when Nehasil was killed.
Before the judge rendered the sentence, Linda Nehasil described the happy life she had with her high school sweetheart and their two teenage sons.
"I miss Larry with every ounce of my being, and I so very wanted to be with him," she said, struggling with tears.
She said she had grown accustomed to turning to him in the nighttime over the years. "Now, his side of the bed is still made in the morning."
Copyright 2011 - Detroit Free Press
McClatchy-Tribune News Service
