[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]When I was first presented with the prospect of writing an article about the Second Amendment, I found myself questioning my qualifications. Who am I, after all, to take it upon myself to speak out about so debated a topic? I am not a Constitutional law expert, by any means. I am not a past or present member of the Armed Forces, nor have I ever been a law enforcement officer. I have no particular expertise or training in handgun safety or combat implementation. So, what do I have that qualifies me to pontificate on this hot button issue?
Well, to be frank, what I have is experience. You see, not too long ago, my wife and I were forced to exercise our Second Amendment right to bear arms in the defense of our lives, and that of our then seven-year-old grandson.
On the morning of Friday, August 15, 2014, a pair of armed men entered our backyard with the intent of forcing their way into our home, robbing us, and, potentially, killing everyone in the home. I was asleep when the back door was kicked in, but my wife was getting dressed in the dining room so as not to wake me. She saw the armed intruder rush at her and ran toward the bedroom while calling out to me for help. I ran to her aid, finding her crumpled on the living room floor with a masked stranger standing over her. Immediately, I grappled with the intruder, and in the course of the struggle, I was beaten severely in the head with a heavy blunt object that I mistook for a club or pipe.
Bleeding profusely from my wounds, I realized I was on the brink of being knocked unconscious. I called for my wife to retrieve one of our firearms and used what strength I had left to lift and throw my attacker across the room. Having won a momentary breather, I turned to my wife who was returning with a .38 revolver in hand. I opened fire on the intruder as he was trying to get to his feet. I knew right away that at least one of my shots had struck him because I heard him begin to scream in pain. I also heard a gunshot that was not from my weapon…the blunt object I had been beaten with was a handgun with an extended magazine. The single shot fired by the masked gunman glanced off my head, went through the wall behind me, and shattered the lamp on my grandson’s nightstand as he lay in bed a foot away.
With my own gun empty, I threw myself on the intruder and called for my wife to retrieve another pistol from our bedroom. We scuffled on the floor, where I was further injured by the masked intruder. I saw my wife returning with the second pistol, but I was afraid that if I let go of the attacker, he would get off more shots. I called instead for my wife to shoot him, and, in spite of her fear that she might hit me, she did what I asked and shot the intruder twice more.
In the end, the intruder died on my living room floor, stolen firearm still in hand. His accomplice had predictably run off and left his friend to die at the first sign of resistance, lending proof to the old adage about thieves and honor. My wife and I had both been badly hurt but, because we live in a country where we are guaranteed the right to bear arms in the defense of our lives, we survived. Without the rights ascribed in the Second Amendment, we may all have died that morning.
So, obviously, I did accept the invitation to write about the Second Amendment. I did it because people need to know why it exists, and what the undeniable consequences would be if it did not.
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