Gloria stood frozen feeling the recoil of the .32 caliber still in her
hand. Her heart pounded as if it would never stop until it beat itself to death.
The blast drowned out all other sound. And she watched in horror the man falling
to the floor like a slow motion scene from a movie, unconscious eyes staring,
unmoving, dark blood pooling under his right hip. She’d shot him through the
liver and knew it would be fatal unless he received medical attention within
minutes.
She only carried a gun to feel safe when she worked third shift providing
home care for a paraplegic middle-aged client. She sometimes heard, more often
sensed, things in the dark when she got in or out of her car at night. Her small
size made her vulnerable; and her client, a
widow and the victim of a drunk driving accident, was unable to get out of bed
on her own.
The gun clattered on the floor and her hand trembled. She willed herself
not to look at the body as she made a wide circle to reach the telephone on the
other side of the room. Concentrating on punching in
9-1-1, her eyes blurred and the smell of death reached down her throat and
squeezed her insides. When she spoke she almost vomited.
“There’s been a shooting.” She gulped.
“What is your name, Ma’am?”
“Why do you need to know that?” She couldn’t believe the woman was
wasting precious time. “You need to send an ambulance right
away…Please…He’ll die if you don’t hurry.” She said it, but feared he
was already dead.
She avoided looking at the body and stood waiting, her knees quaking,
after she hung up the receiver. Almost immediately she heard a siren and turned
toward the open door, her peripheral vision noticing that he hadn’t
moved.
The sirens drew closer,
grew silent, and two officers approached with holsters unsnapped and hands ready
to draw their weapons should it become necessary. They entered the house,
assessed the situation and one of them guided her into the next room by placing
his hand firmly on her arm. The other knelt by the man while communicating with
the ambulance en-route.
“What happened, Ma’am?” he asked taking out his notepad and
pencil.
The gun safety classes hadn’t prepared her for the reality of shooting
someone in self-defense. “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know,…what is your name?”
“Gloria…Gloria Lynn. Why don’t you have an ambulance here to take
care of him?”
The officer moved to block her view of the other room, but she could see
around him. “Why don’t you tell me the first thing that happened exactly as
you remember it?” he said.
“He burst in here acting like a crazy man,” she began.
“Did he break down the door?”
“No, I opened it.”
“Then you know who the
man is.”
“No.” Gloria shook
her head. “He’s a complete stranger to me.” Then she explained, “The
neighbor always drops by to check on us about this time every night, you know,
to make sure everything is okay. That’s who I thought it was. Otherwise, I
wouldn’t have opened the door.”
“Did he force his way past you?”
“Yes, he put his hands around my neck.” Tears welled up in her eyes
as she remembered the terror she had felt. Then in the next instant she’d been
aware of the solid feel of the two-pound weapon worn snugly inside her
loose-fitting pants waistband. The gun class instructor had said that if she
practiced enough “dry fire” draws it would become second nature in a lethal
assault situation. And it had. She’d prepared to draw her gun the instant he
was inside the house.
“Shouldn’t the
ambulance be rushing him to the hospital?” She was aware of a commotion in the
other room, but she could see the body was still lying on the floor.
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Yes. He kept saying something about finding her and killing her to
shut her up.”
The officer scrutinized Gloria seemingly convinced she was telling the
truth. “Can you remember his exact words?”
She took time to think before answering. “He said, ‘Where is she? Why
don’t she shut up? I’ll kill her if she don’t shut up!’”
“Any idea what he meant by that?”
“Not a clue.” Gloria
shook her head. “He went ballistic.”
The officer’s questions
guided her through the rest of what had happened, and he wrote it all down on
his notepad. Then he told her to stay put while he talked to the client. Find
out what she had heard.
Gloria knew the client
hadn’t seen anything. The assault had taken place outside her bedroom. In
fact, she’d probably slept through it all. Which was a shame, actually,
because the woman so loved to watch true crime stories on TV. All she ever did
was watch courtroom dramas, forensic science documentaries, police procedural
reenactments, mysteries and such things. For hours on end, day after day.
And there wasn’t much
else for Gloria to do while working through the night as her patient care
attendant, but watch them with her. That’s how Gloria had learned that 75% of
American women face violent assault, rape, or murder in their lifetime. And it
wasn’t a pretty picture. She’d watched it night after night and become
convinced that carrying a gun just might turn the odds in her favor, if she was
ever attacked. Although, until tonight, she’d never really thought it would
happen to her.
In the other room a
technician with gloved hands picked up her gun. She was about to tell him that
it belonged to her, then realized it didn’t matter. It was evidence, and
she’d probably never see it again. It was an older, inexpensive foreign make
she had bought secondhand at a gun and tackle marina.
She overheard the
officer, when he’d finished interviewing the client, talking with his partner.
“He has several priors for drunk and disorderly behavior. I’ve run him in a
time or two myself.”
“Well, after
tonight’s entry, his file will be permanently closed.”
Gloria let out a little
gasp as she finally let her gaze take in the white sheet completely covering the
body, head and all.
“Ms. Lynn, you’re
free to go home now. We’ll be in touch with you if we have any more questions.
We’re almost done here.”
Gloria said goodnight to
the client before leaving and made arrangements by telephone for another PCA to
take her place for the rest of her shift. The shift was almost over anyway, and
she felt exhausted as she left, more exhausted than she had ever felt
before.
And the client, lying
immobile in her bed, rested her hand on the cordless telephone by her side. She
looked into the mirror that gave her a full view of the room beyond her
bedroom…and smiled.
