Saved by the Gun
by Mike Straw
Late on July eighteenth 2000 in remote Vershire, Vermont serious firearm enthusiast trim, medium height, forty-seven-year-old transplanted lifelong New Yorker Andrew Patti cautiously approached his door with the comforting nine-millimeter Glock he always wore on his right hip, habitually heeding his father’s frequent warning: “Be careful. Strange things happen.”
When his dog Roxie barked, Andrew had the uncomfortable sense of being watched.
Right after he bought the house sans a perimeter fence and gate, a stranger appeared at their door late at night: a young man with a tentative, solicitous air.
Just two weeks later, without benefit of video surveillance or motion detectors, it happened yet again, this time, a polite young woman.
The next time, minus any annunciator or alarm system, a six-foot, one hundred fifty pound, brown-haired, dark-clad sixteen-year-old insistently banged on his door and, after abruptly denying him assistance, Andrew began to suspect that this was the initial phase of a home invasion.
After revealing the legal defensive pistol to the menacing threat and surprised to discover the surly teen indifferent to its implied power, Andrew picked up his phone - it was dead.
His suspicions based on the threat’s deportment were impeccable: what he couldn’t observe was the second lethal threat, Robert Tulloch, a similarly-attired fifteen-year-old equipped with an identical concealed SOG SEAL 2000 three-inch-wide, seven-inch-bladed knife his brother-in-crime, James Parker, had severed the phone line with, or, already guilty of theft by breaking and entering, the fact that the nefarious pair had already dug Andrew’s grave!
Shortly thereafter, a thoroughly frightened Andrew hired a highly-recommended local builder to install a new locking storm door and a secure new sliding door around back: John Parker, James’ father.
Now pay particularly close attention to these facts: the profile of this encounter reflects perfectly the standard reported by Kleck, Lott, Mustard et al, that in ninety-eight percent of cases, the mere display of a legal defensive firearm is sufficient to deter any further criminal activity.
The threat wasn’t killed, shot, fired at, aimed for, or otherwise threatened; the mere display of a legal defensive firearm by a resolute unorganized Militia member turned the tide.
Conversely, simply dialing nine-one-one and pathetically bleating for mercenary strangers to miraculously rescue the trembling ward of “government” wasn’t a viable option, and in this particular case, wasn’t even possible.
Second, the legal defensive firearm wasn’t taken by the threat and used against the unorganized Militia member.
Third, the fawned-over “children” vindictive Sara Brady is so fond of protecting were the perpetrators!
Well, Sara will bluster, this was an exceptionally rare case.
As Lieutenant Colonel “Jeff” Cooper eloquently noted, “Statistics are cold comfort when you discover that your case is the ‘rare exception.’”
Hanover New Hampshire, home of Dartmouth College, is the type of social fascist enclave so infuriating, or at least embarrassing to solid conservatives, that when nearby lucrative ski resort town Killington Vermont threatened to secede over their oppressive tax burden - squandered by governor Howard “Scream” [Dean] introducing such essential politically-correct social programs as “gay” “marriage” - certain New Hampshire residents - perhaps too quickly - offered Hanover in exchange!
On January twenty-seventh 2000, the European-born residents of the three hundred thousand dollar, three-thousand-two-hundred square-foot mansion at One-fifteen Trescott Road in Hanover’s sleepy bedroom community, Etna, sixty-two-year-old, six-foot, one hundred fifty pound Half (pronounce the “l.” it means “help” in German), and fifty-five-year-old, five-foot Susanne (pronounced “Soo-ZAHN-uh”) Zantop, environmentalists and fans of far-left-slanted disinformation media outlet national “public” radio, both highly-paid professors, avowed atheists and Democrats, tragically proved Half’s fatalistic view of life: ”If something’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen.”
Susanne’s friend Margaret Robinson opined, “If an unknown came to the [Zantops’ habitually always-locked front] door, they would have to make a pretty good case to get in.”
Yeah, right: the Pied Piper could have waltzed into this place with his first fairy tale.
Cunningly posing as clean-cut students conducting an environmental survey for the internationally-recognized Mountain School in nearby Vershire Vermont, the unsuspecting wealthy professors invited their murderers into the sprawling, opulently-decorated mansion.
When Half helpfully opened his fat wallet to show Robert a business card, greedy Tulloch, spying the three hundred forty dollars in cash, immediately started brutally stabbing the elder Zantop, then gleefully slit his throat.
Susanne, summoned from the kitchen by his cries, died by James Parker’s bloody hand the same painful way.
Interestingly, both sadistic murderers came from a state where no legal defensive firearm permits were even available, let alone required - anybody can walk around openly with a cannon there - but chose to employ simple, comparatively inexpensive knives instead: so much for vindictive Sara Brady’s - who cheerfully acted as an illegal “straw purchaser” for her son’s high-powered scoped sniper rifle - nutty theory of so-called “gun control.”
After the two bungling junior murderers were finally identified, a startled Andrew recognized Tulloch’s picture staring at him from the front page of the newspaper, graphically declaring, “holy shit! …This is why we have to have the Second Amendment! This is why you’ve got to have a [legal defensive firearm]! If it wasn’t for that goddamn Glock I’d be dead today and so would my son. That goddamned [legal defensive firearm] saved our lives!”
I respectfully submit to
you that here’s all the evidence necessary for rational, intelligent,
reasoning people to decide whether to risk their precious family’s
lives on the lies and deceit of those - like insane Sara Brady who, in
the long run, wish them dead - or the well-reasoned, practical advice
of those compassionate, patriotic individuals - like John Lott, Gary Kleck
and John Mustard -who wish all good Americans long lives of liberty.