*headdesk*

In the time it took me to grab my company truck and pull it around to the loading dock this morning, I heard a caller into a local radio morning show give her account of what she should be referring to as, "The Day My Brain Ceased To Function."

She was out one evening, and strangely got a call from her own home number. When she answered it, her ex-boyfriend was in her house instructing her to get home quick or there would be trouble.

So she did.

And, lo and behold, what does she find when she arrives to her humble abode? She enters the house to find her ex-lover there with her father's shotgun pointed at her. He then proceeds to threaten to kill her and then himself. After a few minutes of this, she moves in and "wrestles the gun from him," breaking her thumb in the process. She (%^! finally!!!) calls the police. They arrive in a hurry, just in time to take statements before she lets him go without pressing charges.

???

So a uniformed officer parks his squad car outside her house. The ex learns of this when he starts calling her every 20 or 30 minutes. Then he's calling to find out if the cop left yet. After about four hours, the officer leaves, and on the next phone call, she tells him the cop left.

????????

Most fortunately for her, moron tells her upon learning of the absence of immediate law enforcement that he is at their old apartment, and he's sliced his wrists. She feels bad for him (????????????????????????) and calls 911, who dispatches EMTs who ultimately cannot find him anywhere.

...

SO, can anyone find where the little missus went wrong here? A cookie for anyone who thought to themselves, "Well, there's a crazed ex-lover in my house where I have at least one firearm demanding that I come home immediately, 'or there'll be trouble.' Why in the holy hell did she not call the police???"

Look, y'all. I'm not so completely cold as to be thoroughly walled off from matters of the heart. I understand love, longing, and feelings of guilt over a failed romance. But, unless this guy just mystically snapped, she had to know ahead of time that this guy's elevator didn't go all the way to the top floor. When he opens the conversation by feloniously (hey, I made a word. Sweet!) being inside your house - a la Breaking and Entering - in the first place, all kinds of red flags and flashy blinky lights should be going off around your pretty little head that warn you of Danger Ahead. If his first demand is for you to arrive poste haste "or there will be trouble," then guess what, sister? There already is trouble!

Everything else that happened after that point can all be chalked up to It's Amazing You Are Alive At All.

Folks, let me be the first to say that I firmly believe in the Righteous Power of the Almighty Boomstick. But in this case, personal defense wouldn't have involved a gun in hand whatsoever! A simple call to Da Poe Lease that ended with, "Gimme a call when you've got him under lock and key," and conflict would never have occurred! You wouldn't have had to think about breaking concealment, your draw, front sight or trigger pull. The fine fellers of the local law enforcement group would have done all the gunny stuff for you!

Personally, I'm all for someone else confronting the armed bad guy if I can help it. Particularly when it's several someones with shiny badges and Glock Foe-dees and sticks and tazers and handcuffs and stuff.

I'm just sayin.



tweaker