After my unfortunate role as the teenage trigger man in a negligent discharge that almost claimed the life of my friend, I was forced to deal with what happened alone. Not because my parents didn’t care, but simply because I internalized what happened. In 1976, there was no Internet. Cable TV was in its infancy. I had never heard of Jeff Cooper. I was in a new city with no friends. There was only me and I blamed the gun, as well as myself . . .
After all, if there hadn’t been a gun I wouldn’t have shot my friend. And I wouldn’t have felt so guilty and ashamed. Ipso facto.
My first step on my journey towards becoming a gun rights advocate happened in October 1983.
Terrorists bombed the Marine Corps barracks in Lebanon. Suicide bombers detonated two enormous truck bombs claiming the lives of 220 Marines, 18 Navy personnel and three Army soldiers. The blast injured sixty Americans, some of them horrifically.
Like all anti-gunners, I believed it was OK for the military to train with and use firearms. I was mystified as to why the guards at those barracks were carrying weapons but no ammo. A warning flag dropped inside my mind. I ignored it.
Whatever the reason, I believed war was on the horizon. With the draft still a relatively fresh memory, I decided to enlist. I figured that by volunteering, I would have a little input as to what I would do while working for Uncle Sam.
Fast forward to April of 1986. The US had just bombed Libya We who were stationed in Europe were put on alert. It was never proven, but the bombing seemed to lead to some retaliatory incidents for those of us who lived off post. About a week later, I experienced my first DGU (Defensive Gun Use). But I didn’t play the part of defender.
Parking my car—with it’s US Army Europe tags—outside of our apartment was like a neon sign advertising that a soldier lived there. Three Libyan males tried to gain entry to our apartment. They were met by my landlady, the jovial and maternal Frau Wagner. And her trusty Walther PP Super.
The visitors decided to turn tail. Having been on duty for the previous 24 hours, I slept through the entire encounter. While I was thankful Frau Wagner had a gun to defend my life and the lives of my comrades, I still didn’t feel the need to arm myself. Not yet anyway.
My Road to Damascus began in February 1985, when I learned about the Long Island Railroad shooting.
A man named Colin Ferguson boarded a commuter train and opened fire on unsuspecting passengers. Ferguson murdered six people and wounded nineteen.
During the media hysteria that followed, the press put Ferguson’s Ruger P89 front and center. Like so many spree killers, Ferguson purchased the gun legally (including a 15-day waiting period). He had high-capacity magazines (15 rounds)! He carried 160 rounds of ammo!
But it wasn’t the gun. After watching Ferguson defend himself in court, I knew the shooter was insane. I kept picturing myself on that train. Would I have been as brave as Michael O’Connor, Kevin Blum and Mark McEntee, the men who tackled Ferguson and stopped the bloodshed?
I asked myself a simple question: why didn’t anyone shoot back? Statistically someone should have been armed. Relying on courageous disarmed citizens to stop the bloodshed during a break in the slaughter didn’t strike me as “common sense.”
I knew New York gun control laws—laws that I had supported— had left Ferguson’s victims virtually, practically defenseless. They were lambs to the slaughter. And all the media could seem to talk about was the gun.
After I was honorably discharged from the military in July, 1990, I went to work in the delivery business. Milk, beer, bread, early morning hours. I worked alone.
In 1993, a criminal abducted one of my customers from a convenience store.She endured a horrific two-day sexual assault. She was taken five minutes after I’d left.
I wished I’d been there to help her. But what could I have done? Anything I could have.
I felt the same guilt I’d felt when I’d shot T decades earlier—only different. In this case I wish I’d have been there to stop a crime. Ready, willing and most importantly able to do so. I didn’t know it at the time but I was heading towards sort of tipping point.
In 1994, my wife and I bought our first house in what turned out to be a neighborhood crack hub. Trouble never knocked on our door but it was all around us. I couldn’t sleep thinking about the possibility of someone mistakenly—or intentionally—invading our house. I couldn’t let my wife suffer the same fate as my customer had endured the year before.
My anti-gun fervor was gone, melted in the crucible of my own self-interest and my desire for other law-abiding Americans to be able to protect themselves from criminals and crazies.
I knew, better than anyone, that guns are dangerous. But I realized that life is dangerous. And some dangers are worse than others.
I bought a Glock 22.
I know most of you believe in keeping gun ownership on the down-low but I let certain people in the neighborhood know that I was legally armed, trained and prepared to defend myself and my family. I’m sure it was a deterrent.
As a conservative talk show host focusing on gun rights, I know that violence can strike anywhere. Closer to home, I’ve received credible death threats. Everyone in my family carries now.
In 2009, I finally hooked up with the boy I’d shot, thanks to the magic of Facebook. T’s forgiven me. We’re still tight to this day. I feel very so fortunate that the ND wasn’t any more damaging than it was.
It’s been a long road becoming the pro-Second Amendment, pro-gun, pro-freedom man I am today, but I finally know the truth about guns. They are a tool that must be respected. Without firearms we, as a people, as individuals, are defenseless. And that’s no place to be.
*applause* Very compelling, thanks for sharing your story.
Glad to hear T is well again, and forgiving. Your historical journey reminded me of the things I had nearly forgotten, but never should have. Thank you.
again, i know you pulled the trigger and that must have been terrible, but T’s father bears most of the burden of the blame. he left two teen age boys unsupervised with loaded handguns.
when you met with T did the question of whether or not he owned guns come up. did you find out if his family had turned their backs on guns?
Hey jwm, it was a different time in the seventies. After all that transpired, lets leave that ghost alone shall we? T’s Pop was and is today a great man and a good father. At the end of the day, I knew to check and had been taught to check. I didn’t check. The buck in this case stops with me.
bill, i remember the 60’s, 70’s and even a little of the 50’s. believe me when i agree with you it was a different time. hell, compared to america today it was a foreign country.
but i think you carried a huge burden of guilt that was only partly yours to carry.
This has been a really good story. It is interesting to see the journey Bill has gone through. I don’t think I have ever hated guns, I have always enjoyed them in some form or another. I guess with regard to US gun laws I never paid much attention to it, until I made the decision that I wanted the option of armed self defense.
For me living through and almost loosing my first wife and mother in law to two terrorist bombings in Israel sort of drove home, and reinforced my belief in armed self defense.
I have found two separate arguments regarding gun control. One is “sensible gun control”, and the other is no guns no way, mass confiscations. Both however maintain a common thread of ignorance.
One is the fixation on the gun itself, as Bill has mentioned. One can gain insight into a crime by understanding ballistics and other facets, but this almost delirious fixation on what type of gun, and how many bullets it has does not provide any true answers about the crime. It also detracts from the victims which really should be the focus here.
They also seem to focus their attentions on objects which really have no effect on the real problem of crime and violence. Take our beloved sporting rifles for example. Regardless of personal emotions, or ideals like no one needs a semi automatic rifle, lets look at facts. Long guns in general, this includes shotguns, bolt action hunting rifles, and yes even our AR or AK sporting rifles are used in less than 7% of all crimes involving a gun. Sporting rifles despite being the most popular platform for a rifle in the US today probably accounts for less than 1% of those related crimes.
So if we willing hand over our AR’s and AK’s tomorrow, will it solve the real problem of violence and crime. Of course it won’t, and no one can dispute that. There is a lot of emotion and fear in an anti debate. Some simply think that putting their faith in government to protect them is all they need. Some are so scared of guns that if they saw one they would probably run the other direction screeching in fear and terror. If we forced each anti to go and take a gun course, and learn to shoot, I bet not all of them would fear guns anymore, sure some of them might not like it, but at least then they would have some small tad of education on the subject they feel so strongly about.
Leland Yee for instance has an almost perverse abhorrence to any black scary gun. I honestly don’t even think he has ever even fired an gun, and doesn’t know a whole lot about them. To that affect most of the legislature in California is gun ignorant, and voting out of fear.
Nice article. Thank you for sharing your experiences.
Bill and I served our country at almost the exact same time and period, imagine that.
Lately people are asking me about gun ownership in general and specifically what it takes to carry. No one denies times are tough and the street is getting tougher.
Thank you for sharing that story.
I too am a reformed anti-gunner.I wrote my fair share of college term papers in southern Illinois supporting gun control. Family problems forced my return to Chicago before graduation. The year was 2008, and the economic sh-t had just hit the fan.Ivy league graduates were slinging mochas at Starbucks, and they were the lucky ones. For me the legal employment options were a lifetime in retail or a more fulfilling career with Uncle Sam.
After choosing the latter and leaving my first post in Mississippi, I went shooting with my section leader the very day I PCS’ed in. Great times were had and my eyes were opened to the world of legal gun ownership-note that up until basic training I never so much as held a real firearm.Being raised in Chicago, IL , the only time I saw a gun was when Boss Daley had ’em on a table at the occasional TV press conference. The seed was planted, but I had my mind on other things as a young Airman.
Thus one weekend I was partying at a trailer with some new military friends, at a place so far in the sticks I could see the stars from the front door. Music’s blasting, people are drunkenly dancing, and its just another Saturday morning when a girl stumbles in with a bloody face.Guess she shoulda laid off the vodka shots.
“HEY GUYS, THERES SOME MEXICAN DUDE WITH A .38 OUT FRO……..”
Thats as much as the owner got out before sheer pandemonium broke out. Everyone split like it was the Fast and Furious film set, leaving me standing at the door with a lady Airman who took the news somewhat worse than I did.
I go out the screen door, girl in tow, when I come around to the back and see a crowd of people between us and her SUV-and theres a good 10 feet of clearing between the car and where we’re standing. Shit.
As the girl’s trembling and laughing in fright, im thinking just what the f**k am I gonna do if that nutjob comes around the corner. I didn’t even have a pocket knife. I knew with a certainty if that shooter came around the bend, I was a goner and so was she. Dial 911? Assuming my cell phone even got a clear signal this far away from civilization, just what was LE going to do to keep me alive? There was nothing for miles around, and even if the Sheriff had a helicopter i’d be a dead man before he got there.What stuck out to me was the fact that I was utterly helpless to prevent my own demise if the flag flew. That’s a feeling I don’t wish on my worst enemy.
That Monday morning I went to the BX and bought a Walther P22 handgun.It was all I could afford on that short of a notice, and ill never forget the snide imbecile next to me at the counter who said “you’re buying a .22 for self defense? That’s dumb, at least get a .380”. Well moron, I nearly died last weekend and my broke E-2 self needs money left over for practice ammo. Not the best impression I got of gun owners, but even if everyone who owned a gun was a jackwagon I was never going to be caught defenseless again. Thus began my journey into the world of concealed carry, and not but 2 years after that weekend I was in a DGU. I felt a lot of emotions during Round 2 – but helpless wasn’t one of them.
ST I have always heard that if you train with any particular weapon, you are getting dangerous. A 22 will get the job done.
Bill Frady,
Thanks again for sharing. I would challenge anti-gunners to refute your experiences with their own writings, but I imagine that we would only endure more of the emotional and irrational screed that has become the status quo for the “common sense gun control” crowd. I’ve met many people who view self defense as a totally foreign concept, and know that they will never wake up in that regard. Regardless, it is heartening to see renewed interest in 1st and 2A freedoms, and I sincerely appreciate your efforts to that effect.
Thanks for sharing your story!
Bill, thank you for sharing your story.
Thank you, Bill Frady for sharing your story. I was touched by it
still bummed that our governor here in UT vetoed Con Carry… at least some states are doing it right…
thx for the head’s up on this,
-Dan