The humid New York air hung heavy with anticipation as the city woke up to another day. The summer of 1978 had become synonymous with fear, a palpable tension woven into the fabric of daily life. The "Son of Sam," as he was known, had become a phantom, a creature of the night, leaving a trail of blood and terror in his wake. 
On the 8th of May, the city held its breath. This night, the target was Stacy Moskowitz, a young woman out with her boyfriend, Bobby Violante, enjoying a summer evening in the Bronx. The attack was swift and brutal, seemingly out of nowhere. As they sat in Bobby's car, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, firing a .44 caliber bullet into Stacy's head.  
Bobby, desperate to protect Stacy, leaped out of the car and ran for help. He knew that their lives were in danger, that the chilling presence of the "Son of Sam" was upon them once again. 
News of the attack spread like wildfire, casting a pall of fear over the city. This was the sixth time the "Son of Sam" had struck, each attack leaving a trail of terror and unanswered questions. The media frenzy reached fever pitch, each new detail devoured by a city desperate for answers.  
The police, under immense pressure, were working tirelessly to find the culprit. The city was on edge, with speculation and rumors swirling. Was the "Son of Sam" a serial killer, driven by a dark and twisted mind? Or was there a deeper motive, a hidden reason for the violence? 
The attack on Stacy and Bobby was a turning point.  It highlighted the undeniable danger posed by the "Son of Sam" and the need for immediate action. The NYPD, with the help of the FBI, intensified their efforts. 
This night, however, the "Son of Sam" struck again, not just at Stacy Moskowitz, but at the very heart of the city's sense of safety. The attack on the 8th of May became a stark reminder of the terror that gripped New York, a city now living in fear of the unknown. 
It would take months of relentless pursuit, meticulous investigation, and a stroke of luck for the "Son of Sam" to finally be caught. His capture, although a relief, wouldn't erase the fear and trauma he inflicted on the city.  The scars of his reign of terror would remain, etched in the memories of those who lived through those dark and fearful days. 
The 8th of May 1978 marked a night of tragedy and terror, a night that would forever be etched in the annals of the city's history. It was a night that reminded New York that even in the heart of civilization, darkness could lurk just around the corner.  
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