On June 4th, 2011, I was at home with my son, and a guy I was "dating" came over. He was acting weird, asked me to go with him down the street. It was around 10pm, my son was asleep, and I went with him, for about 2 blocks, but he wouldn't tell me where we were going. It annoyed me, so at that point t I told him I'm going back home. I turned and headed back, and was stopped by a neighbor and invited to hang out. So I went to her place for a minute, just to shoot the shit. Around 10 minutes later, someone starts banging on her Windows, her doors, back and forth. She finally answers the door and its him. He says "THEY tore up my house and my son is awake and screaming." I run the 4 houses down to my place and find that indeed, my shelves have been knocked over, my stuff is all over the floors, my 24" computer screen has been crushed I. the middle of the floor, my TV and video game consoles are thrown in the floor and have water poured all over them.
The guy busts into my front door screaming at me that I'm "his bitch" and i m gonna do what he tells me to do, etc. I scream at him to get the fuck out while clutching my 7 year old who is scared shitless and crying(because he woke up to this crazy guy trashing my house). I put my son down and get up, telling crazy guy to GTFO. I approach him to head him towards the door, when he starts swinging on me, launching haymakers and trying to beat me Into submission. I fought back. There's no lights on, so I can't really see, it's just a flurry of punch exchanges, and every time it stops I take a mental inventory- took a couple to the chin but I was OK, he is still itching to fight. Lots of me screaming GTFO.... The fight resumes, him punching me, me fighting back, etc. I land this right cross that crumples him like a cheap suit into the floor. I knocked him out.
At this point I'm exhausted, I do t want to fight, I don't want to get close to him in case he jumps up and starts again. So I have to crawl over the giant pile of my stuff thrown all over the floor to get to my .22 mossburg rifle. I chamber a round and push off the safety. I am in one room, he is still on the floor in the next room, I tell my son to scrunch up into the corner of the couch and don't move. It's still dark with no lights but I can kinda see crazy guys silhouette. I aim in that direction. I didn't think I'd have to shoot him. I thought I'd just keep it trained on him, grab my phone, call the cops, and let them deal with him.... But he wakes up and makes to get up. I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to risk getting close enough for him to attack me again, and I figured I'd just hit him in like the arm or the leg or something just to incapacitate him so I can grab my son and bolt. I fire one round into the dark room, in his general direction, and I heard it hit him, he sits back down and slumps sideways. I throw the gun onto the couch, grab my son and my phone, and run out of the house. Call 911, the lady on the line asks if he's still breathing. I yelled at her "I DONT KNOW!!! IM NOT GOING BACK IN THERE!! ". Cops swarm my front, and sit me in a car with the door open. I'm waiting for the ambulance- get this fucker out of my house..... But the ambulance is taking forever. I ask a cop " what's taking so long"... He tells me not to worry about it, I just need to relax and wait. Then it Dawn's on me- the ambulance is slow because there's no rush anymore. He must be dead.
I'm taken to the station and kept separate from my son.... And I wait. And wait. And wait. I'm tired, but I can't sleep, etc. ... Two guys finally come in, I tell the story, and they said/" if you are telling us the truth, which we think you are, then we will not be prosecuting for this. It is called "Castle Doctrine". I have the right to defend home and family with deadly force if necessary. They said a grand jury would convein, and decide if I would be prosecuted federally, but usually grand juries agree with the local police's decision and don't prosecute either.
They let me out of the little room I'm in, and tell me to put my hands behind my back. As the cuff me, I asked " why? I thought you said you wernt prosecuting.". They said "we aren't, but you have warrants for traffic violations".
I'm booked, and then immediately released on recognizance. It took maybe an additional half hour. I went home.
Aftermath? I had to clean my house, throw away all my broken shit, and try to clean blood out of my carpet. No good. Ended up cutting a 1ft square of carpet out. I expected more blood, but the explanation of his death showed why there wasn't much cleanup there. Apparently my lone bullet knicked his heart and pierced his lung, the lung collapsed, and filled with his blood instead. They said he died quickly, and didn't hurt.
He was an only child to his mother, and she took it hard. She would sit parked across the street from my house and stare at it for hours many days in a row. The rest of the family was very accepting. They said he had a history of freaking out and beating women. That they knew something like this was going to happe n, they just didn't expect it now.
The cops never returned my gun, said it had to be held as evidence in case they or the feds chose to prosecute later upon receiving new information.
I got a small tattoo as a reminder.... Four little circles, one for each second I trained my gun on him, and chose to pull the trigger. Four seconds that meant the difference between life and death.
It's been years now, and I've made peace with it. I carry my CCW every day, as a gun saved me and my son's life. I don't " feel" different.... Just i HAVE killed a guy.... I still think I made the right decision. He shouldn't have freaked out, trashed my house, and scared the living shit out of my son.
For the ensuing years, my son couldn't sleep alone. He slept next to me every night since, and if I get up at all, he wakes, and doesn't sleep again until I'm back in the bed. So he knows when I have midnight snacks or have to pee in the night. He just recently started sleeping in his room. I guess time heals all wounds. If you have questions. Feel free to ask. I've made my peace with it.