When I pulled up to my house, there was an unknown, ragged looking van in my driveway. As I put the car in park, a strange, short man in very baggy jeans and a white muscle shirt came out my own front door with two of my computer monitors, one under each arm. He immediately saw my truck, locked eyes with me for a full second that seemed like an eternity, dropped the monitors and ran back inside; slamming the door behind him.
As I dialed 911 and my mind processed the hardened look and lack of fear in the man’s eyes, my heart began racing with more fear than I have ever felt in my life for one simple reason. I knew my family was inside that house.
After being told officers were at least 10 minutes away from our home, I could not just sit there and wonder what was happening to my family inside. As I opened the door to my truck, I jumped from the blasts of two gunshots from inside followed by a blood curtailing “NO!” from the voice I knew belonged to my daughter. It was not like the movies. I did not suddenly have a rush of resolve or determination like I always thought would happen if this moment of truth ever came. It was more a feeling of helplessness and desperation as I ran from the truck to the front door. It happened much slower than I ever imagined such a scenario would play out. Not slow motion like some movie scenes, but almost off beat, like my mind thought it should be happening three beats faster, but everything kept happening at a snail’s pace.
Fortunately, I have a Concealed Handgun License and my .40 caliber Glock 23 was in my truck. Insanely, I hit the first step of the front porch before realizing that I had not actually grabbed the gun out of the console. In that rush of adrenaline when exiting the truck, my brain somehow confused my thinking about the gun as the same as grabbing the gun…hard to explain, but I found myself on the porch empty handed.
After running back to the truck, my second trip up the porch steps was with the gun in hand… and loaded. As soon as I came through the front door, the first movement I saw was a much bigger man than the one who had been on the porch just a few minutes before. For some reason, I remember his curly hair and big beard. He was standing in the middle of our living room with a shotgun and a weird grin as if to say, “you should have stayed outside.” There was no sign of my family in this part of the house as far as I could tell in the second or two since I came through the front door. The man said nothing and he did not make any quick moves. He just slowly started walking my way as he swung the barrel of the shotgun in my direction. Either he did not see the gun in my hand or he thought this suburban dad would not use it.
I’ve read so many spy, mystery, and crime novels, that I have imagined a moment like this many times in my head. But reality is nothing like fiction. I was not angry, but I also was not calm and cool. The truth is no better than this: I was absolutely scared to death and completely unsure about every move I made. I aimed at the center of his body and fired twice. The first bullet went through his hand into his right shoulder. By the time I pressed the trigger, he was aiming the shotgun at me, so his hand was right in front of his right shoulder. The second shot was immediately after the first and went through his left arm into his chest. The police report said that the first shot spun him sideways. At the time, I wasn’t sure where he was hit. All I knew was that he was out of the fight and my family was screaming from the back part of the house.
As I ran around the corner into the hallway, the original man from the porch was crouched down in the doorway to my boys’ room. Strangely, he was now wearing a mask, but his size and the white muscle shirt told me who he was and he had a handgun in each hand, so I fired. It may not have been wise to fire so quickly, but the adrenaline was in control. I thought I fired twice, but the ballistics report would show five shots from me at that spot in the hallway. The small man in the mask crumpled to the floor and for a split second I panicked, just as that thought made its way through my head, there was movement to my left where my daughter’s room was located. And then it happened.
I froze. I just mentally shut down. It was not that different from a computer just locking up or rebooting on it’s own. The man at the door to my daughter’s room did not have a gun pointed at me. He had one in his belt and his hand was resting on it. My gun was pointed at him and his mouth was moving and I heard noise, but I could not understand what he was saying. Seconds began to tick by and nothing happened. We both just stood there and no one did anything. Maybe I was frozen by the thought it could have been my son in the mask and now I was regretting firing my weapon at all. Maybe I was frozen with indecision about when I’m justified in using deadly force and since he was not pointing the gun at me, my heart was beating out of my chest. At that very moment I knew that I had been weighed in the balance and been found wanting.
I had failed my family because I was not ready and it was a horrible feeling. Luckily things worked out. I strongly urge you to get serious about protecting your family from harm. Get the training you need and don’t be found wanting.
Proverbs says that a wise man foresees evil and “hides from it,” meaning prepares for avoiding it and does not walk blindly into danger. Avoiding danger in our society means not only staying away from dangerous back alleys, but also being prepared to deter such danger should it ever come to find you and your family. I never really considered the possibility of my family being one of the 1.3 million victims of violent crime that occur in the U.S. each year.
Rick