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SOURCE: http://buzzpo.com/man-goes-victim-violent-crime-nra-instructor-staunch-gun-rights-advocate/
Man Goes From
Being a Victim of Violent Crime to NRA Instructor and Staunch Gun Rights
Advocate
April 7, 2016 by Eric Reed
Rick Ector, a
resident of Michigan, recently shared his story on GunMovement.org. Its nothing short of inspirational to read
his experience. He states:
A man was a victim of a violent crime
several years ago, and his experience inspired him to embark on a journey to
become an NRA certified firearms instructor, and well respected gun rights
advocate.
Ignorance Is Bliss – Until You Meet A
Predator
Not too long ago, I lived my life as
you probably do today. I was a law-abiding citizen who went faithfully about
his business as you probably do. I went to work every day, spent quality time
with my family, regularly attended church services, and didn’t stick my nose
into the affairs of other people.
I dutifully exercised my civic duties
such as voting in every election, maintaining my home inside and out, and
supporting the general affairs of the city of my birth. Further, I felt that I
had the basic routine of ensuring my family’s safety covered: I owned a shotgun
and had plenty of buckshot shells on-hand for home defense and maintained a
state of continual vigilance.
Despite my best efforts of trying to
be safe in an increasingly dangerous town, my world was suddenly and violently
turned upside-down on one eventful night. As I was returning home one evening
from a full day of work, I was approached by and robbed at gunpoint by two
teenagers in my own backyard. My own garage had become a crime scene.
How To Get Robbed In Your Own Backyard
I suffered the indignity of having a
gun shoved into my face while being relieved of a few paltry and essentially
worthless material possessions – a booty worth less than a total of $50. After
it was all “said and done,” I experienced a bruise to my ego that wouldn’t be
fully felt until several days had since passed when family and friends would
later blame me for being a victim of a violent crime.
It could have been much worse. I could
have been shot or killed, which seems to be the case in Detroit armed robberies
these days. To be totally honest, I had fully expected to be shot due to the
fact that I had steadfastly and boldly refused to accompany my assailants at
gunpoint to an ATM to retrieve more money and refused to chaperone them into my
house so that they could present a threat to my family. Unless you have
experienced a robbery for yourself, there is no true way you can truly
appreciate the trespass I felt on that night. I made my peace with God and was
resolved to be shot to death in my own backyard.
I am a father of four wonderful
children. Although I have adequate life insurance, what kind of life would my
kids have without me in their lives? I grew up without a father, who died when
I was twelve years of age. My dad had adequate life insurance – I was able to
go to college – but the void I experienced in my life has never been filled. I
think of him at least once every day. I know what that experience feels like
and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
I Procrastinated Away The Opportunity
To Defend Myself
More than anything, I was maddened by
the experience. Not only was I mad at the two thugs who robbed me, mad at the
negligent parents of our city who have no clue of what their children do after
dark, but I was even madder at myself. You see, by this point in time, the CCW
laws in Michigan had been changed several years ago such that law-abiding
citizens, such as myself, could have applied for and received the privilege of
carrying a concealed pistol on their person.
Had I applied at that point in time
circa 2001, I would have had a gun to defend myself in my time of need. The
situational circumstances of my robbery were such that my awareness on that
night would have given me enough time and space to react. One problem: I didn’t
have a gun.
Never Assume That Bad Things Never
Happen To Good People
Upon further analysis, my major
problem prior to the robbery was that, despite the increasing number of violent
crimes reported in the media, I had allowed myself to be lulled into a false
sense of security. After all, I was at that time married, had four children,
had a nice home in a solid middle-class neighborhood, did not hang out in bars
and clubs, did not associate with people of questionable character, and was
often in bed by 10 p.m.
At that point in my life, although I
had experienced several petty property crimes at our residence such as several
car break-ins, one burglary of our home, the theft of our built-in outdoor
barbecue grill, and a couple of car-eggings, I thought that I was reasonably
safe, given my low-key lifestyle. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Nice
neighborhoods, it seems, are open-air markets for criminals: deluded potential
victims and a lack of firearms carried by area residents.
Instead of taking a clue from the
daily crime reports, as detailed in the nightly newscasts, I had put off the
idea of getting a CCW because I felt that “I didn’t need one today.” I let the
everyday mundane tasks of going to work, attending family social events,
getting haircuts, and shopping for clothes and other essential items, stand in
the way of securing my most basic right: the right to be safe and secure in my
own person. I had let the unimportant tasks and chores of day-to-day living
keep me from doing that which was most important.
Getting Robbed Is Bad Enough – The
Aftermath Is Worse
My experience was made even worse by
the inconveniences I had to endure in the aftermath. For starters, I had to
call a locksmith to replace all the locks in my home. I had to catch a city bus
to a suburban car dealership to get a dummy key made to unlock the ignition on
my car, so that it could be towed away and have all of its locks replaced, have
new car keys programmed, and have the new keys cut.
Further, I had to replace all of my
identification: driver’s license, work ID badge, work parking lot tag, AAA
card, voter registration card, library card, report my credit cards as stolen,
change my banking account information and get a new ATM card. I lost a few
personal photos and now had the specter of being an identity theft victim. The
$50 robbery actually cost me about another $1,000 in cash and lost time from
work. I would have came out cheaper if I could have just written my assailants
a $100 check for my wallet and keyring.
Big Secret: No One Cares If You Get
Robbed, Raped, or Victimized
To add insult to injury, I had to
explain to various people why I needed their assistance. Essentially, I had to
tell them that I was a victim of an armed robbery in my own backyard.
Invariably, everyone who I talked to found it within themselves to, in one way
or another, blame me for the crime. Somehow, my victimization was my fault for
not being aware of my environment in my backyard, not being inside when it was
dark outside, and not having left Detroit for the suburbs several years ago.
Furthermore, I had to make several
attempts to file a crime report with the respective detective for the case
because he was on vacation and no one seemed to know when he would be back. I
felt victimized all over again. Here I am – a crime victim – wanting to do
whatever to help the police to find my assailants and they were making petty
arguments between themselves over who gets to file the paperwork.
The Police Don’t Really Care About You
Being Victimized
Never mind that the old neighborhood
precinct was shuttered some time ago when the police department consolidated
and that I had to travel a considerable distance to continually drop in and try
to find the respective detective. On several occasions, I thought about not
bothering to follow through with the process, however, I thought that my report
might somehow make a difference for someone else. Maybe – just maybe – someone
wouldn’t experience the trespass I experienced because my criminal report made
someone in the police department do something about it: increased patrols of
the area, interviews with known suspects, put together a criminal line-up, or
something. Anything.
When I did finally catch up with the
appropriate officer, he performed his role of investigator admirably but neither
he nor his colleagues were around when I needed them most – at the robbery
scene. I spent about an hour giving the detective all of the details of the
crime I could recall and muster – several days after the occurrence, however
small, in an effort that might reveal a pattern which might suggest known
suspects to the officer. I guess I watch too much T.V.
Most crimes, if reported at all, are
never solved. No one seems to care too much unless there is a dead body
associated with the crime. Even then, it seems that unless the outrage from the
community is great, nothing ever comes of it. Did the police ever solve the
murder of that woman whose body was discovered downtown on the morning of the
Super Bowl?
After I spilled my guts to the
detective, I inquired about the process of receiving a CCW. His reaction was
not pleasant. He didn’t do or say anything offensive, but he dismissed my
desire to take more responsibility for more personal safety as “contributing to
the problem.” Anyhow, he told me to go to police headquarters and that the info
I sought could be found there.
First Step To Recovery Is Admitting
That You Have A Problem
Many people, such as the person who I
used to be, stand on the sidelines of the Second Amendment/gun ownership game
until something adverse “happens” to them or to someone they know and value.
Personally, I never had a “perceived” need for a handgun; I had previously
viewed owning a gun as a novelty and perhaps a waste of hard earned cash. I had
bought into all of the misleading anti-gun propaganda being spewed vociferously
by various people and “special interests” with hidden agendas.
I never bothered to research the facts
on gun ownership for myself. I left that task up to other people to educate me
through the media via so-called factoid public service announcements, speeches
from various governmental officials who enact “feel good” legislation that
doesn’t work or conduct gun “buy-backs” that can’t be objectively evaluated for
effectiveness, and barbershop talk with many people in my community who discuss
their feelings about guns rather than the honest-to-God facts. My problem was
that I allowed others to do my thinking for me on the subject of guns. I have
since “in-sourced” that function back to the person I trust the most: me.
Everybody Knows Everything Until
Something Happens
Well, something did “happen” to me – I
was robbed in my own back yard while parking my car in my garage. Prior to this
event, I did not see myself as a potential victim. I have always been able to
“hold my own and handle my business” whenever I needed to do so throughout my
life. The mere idea that someone would have the audacity to size me up as a
victim never crossed my mind. A gun in the hands of violent predators, who have
no qualms about using violence or the threat of violence to accomplish their
evil purposes, changes the natural order of the food chain. I then knew that I
needed to make a few changes.
Consequently, I then chose to get on
the playing field. To my surprise, I have been warmly greeted by the pro gun
rights side and have been consequently shunned by the “guns are evil” side.
Making the decision to own a firearm makes you a gun nut in the eyes of many
ignorant people.
The uninformed and unenlightened folk
will treat you differently and are prone to making snide comments about you.
They’ll either tell you that they don’t “need” a gun because of where they live
or they’ll demonstrate some Kung Fu disarmament moves they learned from playing
Tekken on their PlayStation2 video game console. They couldn’t possibly be more
wrong. However, I’ll patiently wait until “something” happens to them and I’ll
forget and forgive all of the ignorant things that they said and welcome them
to the correct side.
A Journey Of A Thousand Miles Begins
With One Step – Gun Ownership
Anyhow, after filing the crime report
at my not-so-local neighborhood police station, I headed downtown to acquire a
“Ten Day Purchase Permit.” The Gun Licensing Department ran my background to
see if I had any official governmental prohibitions – felonies – against owning
a firearm. Of course, the check came back clean so I was issued the permit. I
was now able to legally buy a gun within the next ten days. If I had failed to
do so (buy a gun), I would have to come back downtown to repeat the process.
Next, I went to a local gun shop
without haste and bought my first handgun. I didn’t let the ominous signs –
warning customers against pulling out guns because they might get shot – or the
fact that all of the gunshop employees were openly carrying their guns on their
hips, deter me. I had no idea of what to buy, so I bought the same gun that my
brother-in-law owned. “If it was good enough for him, it must be good enough
for me,” I reasoned. I didn’t originally plan on spending several hundreds of
dollars on my purchase, but my first and only thought was to buy the best gun I
could “afford” even if a few utility bills didn’t get paid on time that month.
My life and safety were worth a ding or two on my credit report.
In retrospect, the gun dealer didn’t
offer me a lot of informed customer service. To his credit, maybe he assumed,
that since I was a guy, that I knew what I wanted. In fact, I didn’t know much
of anything. My ignorance was my fault. The dealer’s fault was not asking me
enough questions to allow him to best assess my needs. However, his
insensitivity did not stop him from also suggesting additional purchases:
jacketed hollow points and an inside-the-waist (IWB) holster.
Pure luck, it seems, brought a gun
into my possession that fit my hand perfectly. I couldn’t test fire it, as the
shop didn’t have a range. So I had to “take it on faith” that I could handle
shooting it. I must have filled out a ream of paperwork that day; it was like
closing on a house. Anyhow, it’s funny now recounting the experience, but I was
– in all truth – nervous while carrying my new encased gun from the back
entrance of the shop to my car. I mused how ironic and funny it would be if I
was to now be robbed of my new gun at the gun shop.
My next stop on my personal armament
tour would be to venture back downtown to police headquarters to have my new
firearm “safety inspected.” Before having my gun inspected, I had no idea of
what tests they were going to perform to properly test my gun. After they
safety inspected my gun, I am still ignorant to the process even though I
witnessed it with my very own eyes. Bottom line: by the time I left police
headquarters this time, my name, my personal info, and the fact that I owned a
handgun were now entered into a database.
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