Cigars...Strudel...& Hollowpoints
FEBRUARY 15, 2012 9:31PM

Why I Have Guns....

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I must first state that my daughter is very sensitive about this episode in her life. She was 11. I will not post this on Face Book. It will remain here.

I will give her a different name as it will eventually show up on Google.


It was February. The same week as our wedding anniversary and my birthday. My wife had a hysterectomy that week and thanks to crappy health insurance was only allowed one night in the hospital. We were to take hourly walks between her release on a Wednesday and the removal, by me, of her catheter on Friday.

We lived in a very nice apartment complex in Mesa, Arizona. We were in the back adjacent to a nice playground for the kids. Next to the complex was the typical unprotected concrete wash. No guard rails and during winter, it was full of rushing water. People drowned on like clock work. I never understood not protecting this danger.

It was midday and I was walking my wife around the complex. We hadn’t seen Tracy for over 30 minutes. We made her check in every half hour. She had lots of friends to play with and we considered it safe. But this day, she had not checked in.. so as we walked, we asked her little friends if they had seen her? None had.

My wife shrieked out in panic and screamed at me to go find her..some motherly instinct told her something was very wrong.... we quickly walked back to the apartment and I went off searching for our kid.

After scouring the complex, I walked along the barren area between the buildings parallel to the concrete wash. We were a good half mile away from a major street that the complex was on. I thought that she would never go this far without our permission, which we would never give.

I had decided to turn back... but a gut feeling told me to keep walking. As I neared the end of the walk, there was a house with an abandoned guest house in the back. The main house was empty and there was graffiti on the guest house. All of the windows in the guest house were broken. And then I saw her little pink two wheeler bicycle.

I began screaming out her name as I moved directly perpendicular to the guest house. There was a 3’-6 chain link fence between me and the house. I was just bout to jump the fence, when a boy came out…a teenager. He looked at me and went back inside.

A moment later, Tracy came running out, screaming that she had been molested. I yelled for her to run to the open gate. She came to me in hysterics. Three teen boys came out.

I screamed at them, “What did you do? What did you do?”

They smiled and said they had done nothing. I bent to one knee to purvey my daughter’s condition. Her clothing was torn. She had a facial expression I hope I never see on anyone I love. I told her to get on her bike and ride home as fast as she could and have mom call the police.

The older teen came out, laughing, saying they were only fooling around. I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him almost half a mile back to our apartment. I screamed at him at the top of my lungs with every curse word I could think of. The kid was as big as me but I had Herculean strength.

At this point, I considered killing him and throwing him into the rushing water a few feet away. But common sense showed up. If I hurt this pariah, it would be about me and not him. My daughter would lose a father. And the world would lose flea feces….the boy.

As I got to my front door, I still had a death grip on his collar and then the police drove up in 3 cars.

They arrested all three boys and my daughter was taken to the hospital.

I learned the next day that this boy had molested my daughter and was only moments away from raping her. After my arrival, he went back in and threatened her that if she ever said anything, he would kill her. The prison psychiatrist wrote us and told us that he was a sexual predator and would have killed her. So my wife’s shriek and my gut instinct saved her life.

The kid was Mexican and his family lived in the same nice complex under Section 8 rules. When management found out, they were given 3 days to get out. The boy’s family were serious gang bangers and did not like what “I” had done to them.

My car was repeatedly painted with warnings. They were arrested over and over.

And then the cops told me a contract was put on my head.

I bought two guns. I took classes on how to shoot and about safety. Both my wife and daughter took the classes and I bought them guns. I taught Tracy to shoot and she became a markswoman at the age of 11. Prior to getting my concealed carry permit, I carried openly. Which was legal in Arizona.

I found a mentor who gave me a crash course in shooting. He was very wealthy. He mentored Tracy as well. He was a member of the JDL (Jewish Defense League-a radical group that believe violence is a part of the defense of Jew's rights.) He offered me an opportunity to arrange for some Black Ops JDL members to take care of the people who were harrassing me. I declined while laughing. I asked him, "Who do you think the cops are going to question first if this family begins to disappear? ME!"

We had to get out of there. So I found a gig with a company in Northern California and we moved without a forwarding address.

At the time, Arizona had a law that if a man was deemed an active sexual predator, his release date meant nothing and he could be remanded until deemed safe. That boy spent years in prison. We told the authorities that we would not be reachable. They understood.

It took two years before I stopped spontaneous crying. I played that scenario over and over again as I lay in bed every night. Would I have done the world a service by ending him? What I would give for two minutes alone with him in a dark alley...

Surprisingly, the kid bounced back admirably. A very strong kid. My wife and I were shocked at her strength.

Tracy wants to be a cop. She wants to help people. At the moment, she’s an EMT.

Subsequent to this, I developed a love of target shooting for the discipline and relaxation it brings. I entered shooting matches. But I have never hunted. No stomach for it.  

To this day, I keep a gun in every room. You just never know....

Author tags:

open call, guns, molestation, rape, murder

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I will take my first gun safety and shooting class in early March. I have crossed over to the other side. You and your wife are outstanding parents.
Thank you Gabrielle. I am very happy to hear that you are taking steps to provide yourself with a rational way to defend yourself and your family. I pray that you never have to use that terrible power.
A post script....
I took my daughter to the range every weekend. She was a natural and the employees began to call her Annie Oakley. I bought her a Browning .380 with a tactical holster. She continued to take classes with me including several different CCW classes. She learned the law, safety, and how to shoot. After a couple months, the owner of the range and gun store asked me if I could continue to bring her with me every weekend. He would pay me to do so. It appeared that men who brought their reluctant wives to the range to buy them a gun would watch as my daughter shot at paper targets. And how at ease she was with her gun. He literally flabbergasted women to see an 11 year old wander around the gun store with a weapon at her side...while she bought Cokes and Skittles. I declined of course. My daughter was not a trained seal.
Apparently, she became the main reason why women relented.
I also took her to big gun shows with me and I let her carry the gun at her side which was legal in Arizona. Young boys with their fathers would tug their dad's sleeve and point and ask why they couldn't do the same. LOL! We took the fascination and mystery of firearms out of the equation for her and I never needed to lock my guns. As she got older, I would make sure that when boys came over to the house, they would see me cleaning my guns at the kitchen table. They would congregate in our office with the computer. As they were in there, I placed gun periodicals on the floor in front of the door so they had to step on them as they left the room. No one messed with her. And she was never allowed to touch her gun without my permission.
Gripping story, Katman. One of those nick in time situations. I wish more people who see personal ownership of guns as unnecessary would read this.