Many years ago, on my day off (which tells me it was probably a Thursday), I was home alone, in the bedroom at the back of my very small house, when I heard the front door open and close.
My wife-at-the-time was at work, and it must have looked as though no one was home. I glanced out the window, but my wife hadn't come home early.
I picked up the only gun I owned- a lever-action .22 rifle, which was loaded- and went towards the sound.
Standing in the middle of my living room was a kid of around 12 years old. He was startled by my sudden appearance (I'm a stealthy walker) and by the fact that I was holding a rifle at low ready.
I asked what he was doing in my house.
He stammered something about looking for me. I said, "Here I am. What do you want?"
He couldn't think fast enough and came up with some obvious nonsense, and I told him to get OUT of my house. He did.
Later, I found out that there had been several burglaries around our rural neighborhood. I have no doubt that had I not been home, we would have come home to a burglarized house. Of course, if I hadn't been home, the front door would have been locked, and I'm not sure the kid was breaking in or just opportunistically checking for unlocked doors. Either way, the burglaries stopped. Or moved.
And that's the story of how I once stopped a crime in progress.
Somewhere, I believe I've written about the time I failed to stop a crime, and have felt bad about it ever since. Not my finest hour. I can't find any such blog post, so I'll write it for tomorrow.
-
Thank you for reading.
Would you care to subscribe or donate?
