That event is why I've been a fanatic about target identification since I was a teenager.ghentry wrote: . . . Add that to your other story about you and your Dad, and you've got some good war stories.
Chas.
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Return to “UPDATED: Child Home Alone”
- Thu Mar 16, 2006 3:20 pm
- Forum: General Gun, Shooting & Equipment Discussion
- Topic: UPDATED: Child Home Alone
- Replies: 33
- Views: 4314
- Wed Mar 15, 2006 5:32 pm
- Forum: General Gun, Shooting & Equipment Discussion
- Topic: UPDATED: Child Home Alone
- Replies: 33
- Views: 4314
Gentry:
This story isn’t an attempt to convince you to provide a firearm to your son, if you don’t feel it would be prudent. The age at which any person develops the maturity to make decisions concerning the use of deadly force varies dramatically and only you and your wife can make that decision. This is a story of something that happed to our youngest son.
This happened when our youngest son was 15. I was at my office when the phone rang. It was my private direct line so it didn’t come through the receptionist and I didn’t know who was calling. When I answered, my son simply said “Aw ________!� I wasn’t at all pleased to be greeted with that language from my son, but I knew something was clearly wrong. I asked what was going on and he said, “I was hoping you wouldn’t answer because someone is in the house downstairs and I was hoping it was you.� As you can imagine, the pucker factor went off the scale and I told him to go into my bedroom and get one of my 1911 .45 ACP’s, but he had already done so. I then told him to lock his bedroom door, hide behind his bed with the gun aimed at the door, be as quite as possible and call the police. This too he had already done, except for calling the police. He really didn’t want to hang up with me, but he did when I told him I would call the Friendswood PD dispatcher as well, so he’d be able to relay a message to me if necessary.
It couldn’t have been more than one minute before I was able to talk to the dispatcher - a lady I’ve known for years. She assured me two units would arrive in less than 2 minutes, but it seemed like two hours for me and two years for my son. When the four (yes 4) units arrived, one officer started beating on the door. The dispatcher told my son to lay his pistol on the bed and he told her “not until I see one of my Dad’s friends slide his badge under my bedroom door!� (Good response in my book. I wonder where he learned that one?) Finally, my son heard the front door open, some COP’s yelling and our oldest son hollering, “Bryan, what the heck are you doing!!?� (Cleaned up to meet the “10 year old daughter rule�) Yep, our UT student had come home unannounced not knowing his brother had stayed home from school because he was sick. (Years later he confessed it was to finish a project due the next day.)
It seems that the oldest son had come in, rummaged around the kitchen for a while, then went to the restroom to sit a spell. When he heard the knocking/beating on the door, he thought it was a salesman and wasn’t about to cut his project short to answer the door. When it became clear someone was going to break the door down, he reluctantly went to the door, peeked out and saw “half the Friendswood PD� with their guns drawn and looking mighty unhappy. When he opened the door, he said it looked like that Chuck Norris movie with the scene involving an attempt to rob a COP bar. “Everyone had their muzzle pressed firmly against my nose� he said, obviously exaggerating. Quickly, two of the guys recognized him and the whole thing was over.
When the debriefing was finished, I was very pleased with my youngest son’s handling of a terrifying situation. He was absolutely convinced there was a burglar in the house. I was in my downtown Houston office 25 miles away with no way to get there in time to join the fight; it was all up to him if the “burglar� came into his room before the police arrived.
He told me he’d never been so scared in his life, but he knew what to do and maintained self-control. I asked him if he felt he would have been able to hold fire until he identified his target and his answer was an honest, “I don’t know, I think so, but I was really scared. Now that this happened, I know I would next time; I’m not going to kill my brother.� He said he remembered a line I had preached to him from the first day I let him put his hands on a gun - “There are very few things in life worse than getting shot, but killing a loved one by mistake is certainly one of them!�
I was pretty much useless the rest of the day thinking about what could have happened; thankfully I didn’t have a trial going. Since no one was hurt, I was actually thankful it had happened. I taught both sons to shoot very early, but you can’t teach maturity and you can’t simulate being scared to death! This event gave him a taste of being scared he might die and having to perform under that pressure. That’s asking a lot of a fifteen year old, but he handled it well and he was definitely prepared for the next time. (That happened 12 years later and it was not his brother!) For you young folks yet to be parents, this is why our hair turns gray and falls out!
Gentry, I would definitely get the pepper spray in addition to other efforts you make.
Regards,
Chas.
This story isn’t an attempt to convince you to provide a firearm to your son, if you don’t feel it would be prudent. The age at which any person develops the maturity to make decisions concerning the use of deadly force varies dramatically and only you and your wife can make that decision. This is a story of something that happed to our youngest son.
This happened when our youngest son was 15. I was at my office when the phone rang. It was my private direct line so it didn’t come through the receptionist and I didn’t know who was calling. When I answered, my son simply said “Aw ________!� I wasn’t at all pleased to be greeted with that language from my son, but I knew something was clearly wrong. I asked what was going on and he said, “I was hoping you wouldn’t answer because someone is in the house downstairs and I was hoping it was you.� As you can imagine, the pucker factor went off the scale and I told him to go into my bedroom and get one of my 1911 .45 ACP’s, but he had already done so. I then told him to lock his bedroom door, hide behind his bed with the gun aimed at the door, be as quite as possible and call the police. This too he had already done, except for calling the police. He really didn’t want to hang up with me, but he did when I told him I would call the Friendswood PD dispatcher as well, so he’d be able to relay a message to me if necessary.
It couldn’t have been more than one minute before I was able to talk to the dispatcher - a lady I’ve known for years. She assured me two units would arrive in less than 2 minutes, but it seemed like two hours for me and two years for my son. When the four (yes 4) units arrived, one officer started beating on the door. The dispatcher told my son to lay his pistol on the bed and he told her “not until I see one of my Dad’s friends slide his badge under my bedroom door!� (Good response in my book. I wonder where he learned that one?) Finally, my son heard the front door open, some COP’s yelling and our oldest son hollering, “Bryan, what the heck are you doing!!?� (Cleaned up to meet the “10 year old daughter rule�) Yep, our UT student had come home unannounced not knowing his brother had stayed home from school because he was sick. (Years later he confessed it was to finish a project due the next day.)
It seems that the oldest son had come in, rummaged around the kitchen for a while, then went to the restroom to sit a spell. When he heard the knocking/beating on the door, he thought it was a salesman and wasn’t about to cut his project short to answer the door. When it became clear someone was going to break the door down, he reluctantly went to the door, peeked out and saw “half the Friendswood PD� with their guns drawn and looking mighty unhappy. When he opened the door, he said it looked like that Chuck Norris movie with the scene involving an attempt to rob a COP bar. “Everyone had their muzzle pressed firmly against my nose� he said, obviously exaggerating. Quickly, two of the guys recognized him and the whole thing was over.
When the debriefing was finished, I was very pleased with my youngest son’s handling of a terrifying situation. He was absolutely convinced there was a burglar in the house. I was in my downtown Houston office 25 miles away with no way to get there in time to join the fight; it was all up to him if the “burglar� came into his room before the police arrived.
He told me he’d never been so scared in his life, but he knew what to do and maintained self-control. I asked him if he felt he would have been able to hold fire until he identified his target and his answer was an honest, “I don’t know, I think so, but I was really scared. Now that this happened, I know I would next time; I’m not going to kill my brother.� He said he remembered a line I had preached to him from the first day I let him put his hands on a gun - “There are very few things in life worse than getting shot, but killing a loved one by mistake is certainly one of them!�
I was pretty much useless the rest of the day thinking about what could have happened; thankfully I didn’t have a trial going. Since no one was hurt, I was actually thankful it had happened. I taught both sons to shoot very early, but you can’t teach maturity and you can’t simulate being scared to death! This event gave him a taste of being scared he might die and having to perform under that pressure. That’s asking a lot of a fifteen year old, but he handled it well and he was definitely prepared for the next time. (That happened 12 years later and it was not his brother!) For you young folks yet to be parents, this is why our hair turns gray and falls out!
Gentry, I would definitely get the pepper spray in addition to other efforts you make.
Regards,
Chas.