The convenience-store incident kept delivering surprises.
With CNN, ABC, and local affiliates replaying the footage nonstop, the "elfin Hero," the "Can Knight"—Landon Williams—was suddenly everywhere.
The jarring contrast between his pretty-boy face and lightning-quick moves made him impossible to forget.
First to call was Marie Claire.
Editor-in-chief Nina Lawrence telephoned Tracy herself, breathless: "Ms. Miller! We saw Landon's story—fantastic! The board just voted. The shots we took last week are gorgeous, and with this heat we're bumping him from inside pages to the next cover. More spreads, more money—we'll fly off the shelves!"
It meant a quantum leap in exposure: inside pages to cover in one stroke.
—
Then an even wilder opportunity knocked.
North America's largest canned-goods maker, Del Monte, caught the clip.
The can Landon hurled at the Robber was their classic luncheon-meat.
To Del Monte it was manna from heaven—millions of dollars of free, explosive branding.
A handsome kid bludgeoning an armed criminal with their product? Priceless.
Del Monte's marketing chief rang Tracy through WMA, hungry to collaborate: they wanted Landon Williams for a new TV spot.
The concept? Re-stage the showdown: Landon enjoying a tasty Del Monte can, another unopened on the table; he saves the day with the same "rock-solid" product—literally.
And the paycheck, for a fledgling actor, was colossal.
Tracy could hardly believe her ears.
After a preliminary call she sprinted to Landon's apartment where he was studying a script. "Landon—guess what!" She spilled the details, then hesitated: "They'll need you to nail the throw, take after take… can you?"
She'd seen his skill, but commercials demand surgical precision.
Landon flashed an easy grin. "Easy. Hitting a mark with power and accuracy? I could do it all day. Give me any object, any spot—done."
Watching him, Tracy's heart skipped; the man had looks, talent, and a superhuman sense of control.
"I'll lock it in," she said, already hearing cash registers.
—
Even Ron Howard, busy prepping A Beautiful Mind, rang. "Hey Landon—saw your 'performance' on TV! Canned a gunman? Hollywood couldn't write it! You okay?" "Fine, thank you, Director Howard." "Good. Looks like we cast the right Charles. Keep it up—see you on set."
If Ron Howard was calling, the ripple was nationwide.
Landon hung up and stared at Los Angeles traffic below. A single random moment had rerouted his entire trajectory: A Beautiful Mind, 24 hours, the Marie Claire cover, and now Del Monte.
The food giant moved fast.
They hired top-tier agency McCann, which built a perfect convenience-store set inside a Burbank soundstage.
On shoot day Landon arrived with Rachel and Zoey.
Rachel, thrilled and terrified, was the female lead—her first real gig, courtesy of Landon.
Days earlier Tracy had walked in on the two of them cozily together.
Her professional smile cooled; jealousy stabbed.
Landon, sensing it, simply asked: "For the victim role—someone fresh, pretty, believably scared—what about Rachel?"
Tracy reappraised: oval face, bright eyes, dimples—perfect for the rescued ingénue.
Still, the words stuck in her throat.