Guns are the greatest equalizer. On Friday night, the very night before a man with a gun took lives in a horrific mass shooting, a woman with a gun was safer because of having it.
It was after supper when the dogs in the back began barking. A car had come down my long private driveway and pulled to a stop. I live way down a long country road, and my driveway is the last one on the road. Uninvited visitors are extremely rare. We’re too far out there for the usual smattering of Jehovah’s Witness, little girls selling cookies, and neighborly drop-offs of homemade jam. I looked outside and saw that two men had gotten out and approached my daughter while one waited in the driver seat of the car. My daughter, 15, was doing some of the after dinner chores. I had a bad feeling immediately. I knew it, because I was adamantly told by that gut instinct that doesn’t hint something is wrong, but pounds your heart like a drum to get your attention, and screams it inside your head. I stopped for just long enough to grab my loaded Glock 19 and for the first time since purchasing it, I racked the slide and chambered a round for a reason other than target practice. For the first time, I did so because of another human being. I did so because there were 3 men out there with my child and they were bigger than both of us. They were undoubtedly stronger, and we were outnumbered, and I knew that there was the potential for something bad to happen. I stuffed the gun into the side pocket of my hoodie and hurried out. I asked the men brusquely, “Can I help you?” One was the talker. He was bearded, over ,,,
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