By John Boch
It’s getting around bedtime for the family and your 17-year-old daughter needs to get something out of the car before going to bed. She goes outside, not a care in the world in your neighborhood that seems “safe” by any normal standards.
The car is parked at the curb of the street, complete with a streetlight across the street. It’s a nice evening outside. The windows are open to let in the cool air.
You didn’t see them coming, but two big guys in their 20s or 30s, grab your little girl. Why? Who knows. They force her, at gunpoint, back towards the house.
You notice what’s going on and yell to your spouse “INTRUDERS!” – your family’s codeword for a home invasion or hot burglary.
Your family has a plan. You haven’t really practiced it too much, but you’ve talked about it.
You grab your gun and your wife goes for hers. The younger child hides in his room, taking cover as you’ve told him to do if he ever heard mom, dad or his bigger sister yell that word.
The thugs roughly push your daughter through the front door. They are pumped with adrenaline, suffering tunnel vision and auditory exclusion, in a state of hyper excitement that they are going to pull off a robbery and maybe a bonus rape or two as well. After all, your daughter is pretty and they’ve got guns.
Unfortunately for them, you’ve got an equalizer. Long ago you decided that you were not going to be a helpless victim. You’ve had some good introductory training to use your concealed carry piece effectively and you’ve been to the range and practiced a few times. You’re scared and nervous, but you’re running on autopilot, thanks to your training.
It’s chaos, but you’re ready. You’ve already got your gun on the door, having found some concealment behind a chair.
They come in, unaware that you’re waiting for them.
You shoot at thug number one, the one closest to you. It seems different shooting a real person instead of a target. It’s more difficult as the target is moving – and trying to kill you – but you’ve got the element of surprise as the last thing he expected to walk into was your 124-grain hollowpoints.
You see him trying to bring his gun to bear on you as you fire. It’s difficult to see if you’re making hits other than the thug looks uncomfortable and he’s slowing down.
You want him to fall; to stop his attack. You know you can fire faster, but you know you have got to take good shots so as not to hit your little girl. Thug number one crumples, apparently out of the fight.
One down, one to go. Plenty of ammo left. “Please Lord,” you think to yourself as your swing your muzzle to the next target who is half-trying to put your daughter between him and you.
Things are moving so quickly, yet in slow motion as you’re experiencing tachypsychia. You line up the front sight blade on the bigger guy’s chest when you can. Carefully you press the trigger, again so as not to accidentally shoot your little girl. Again and again. The gun bucks in your hands. You hear a pop that’s not from the bad guy’s gun but you don’t have time to look to see where it came from.
Thug number two stops his advance. You think you’re making good hits, but can’t really tell as bodies are jostling around. The staccato pops continue as the big guy is taking fire from both you and your spouse. She has already called 9-1-1 to report the home invasion and is now contributing to the counter-battery of fire against the remaining intruder.
The big guy has let go of your little girl. He’s backpedaling then turns and flees for his life out the door he came in. You fire one last shot as he’s turning that goes low. Hurriedly stumbling down the steps of the porch, he flees. You see him running – staggering would be a better description – down the street and close the door.
Your daughter is on the floor sobbing. You check her out and she’s bloody, but alright. She’s shaken up, but not bleeding. The blood is from her attackers.
Your wife is holding up okay, considering. She’s pointing her gun at the uninvited guest laying face down on the floor in your living room. He’s gasping for air like a fish out of water, twitching and bleeding out on your carpet. You kick his weapon out of his hand and wait for the police.
You consider providing aid to him and dismiss it. “F him,” you think.
You hear sirens and hope they are coming towards your house.
Police arrive in what seems like an eternity later, pouring in from every direction.
The guy on the floor isn’t moving. He’s not breathing either, but your primary concern is for your family.
This happened in St. Louis just a couple of days ago.
Two chuckleheads – professional scumbags with long arrest histories – grabbed a 17-year-old girl around 11pm and forced her back into the house. Dad saw them coming and sounded the alarm to the rest of the family.
Shots were exchanged and both bad guys took multiple rounds. One expired on the livingroom floor, the other is in critical condition after he found his brother and the brother took him to the hospital.
Lots to be learned here. Not the least of which is to have self-defense firearms available to you in your home. If dad’s gun had been locked beside the bed, this would have had an entirely different ending.
ST. LOUIS (Post Dispatch) • A husband and wife armed with guns were able to stave off an apparent home invasion Monday night, police said.
One man was killed and a second taken to a hospital in the incident, which happened about 11 p.m. in the 4600 block of Newport Avenue.
Police say a 17-year-old girl who lived at the home was outside retrieving something from her car when she was approached by two masked and armed men who forced her into her house, using her as a shield.
The teen’s father, 34, saw the men walking up with his daughter, got his firearm and fired several shots at them, striking both of the men as they entered his home. The teen’s mother, 34, also retrieved a gun and fired once at the men but did not hit either, police said.