A lot of folks told me I should write to the NRA with this, so I did. Some more folks (at Totse) told me I should repost what I wrote there in forums like this one, but that particular post had a lot of cussing in it (not to mention venting) and this one is a little more readable and collected.
The following is a letter I just sent off to the NRA:
Edit: Spelling.
The following is a letter I just sent off to the NRA:
I've been an NRA member since the day I turned eighteen. I've been a law abiding gun owner for just as long, up until now.
If you have a while, let me tell you my story. It ain't pretty, but when we get to the end maybe you'll see why I'm just about livid.
In August of 2004 I was jumped by four muggers on my way home from the range. I had my gun on me but I only ever used it for target shooting. I didn't have it loaded and I didn't have it ready - That's sort of tricky with a full length break open shotgun. I got a Hy-Point 9mm shoved in my face, took a lot of punches and racial slurs, and got my wallet and gun stolen for my trouble.
Open carry is legal in my state (Delaware). I didn't have a car at the time. I was legally in the clear, and I didn't expect anybody to start any trouble with the guy with a shotgun slung across his back.
Boy was I wrong. Point aside.
I wasn't far from a neighborhood school and I knew the janitor on duty there in passing (I worked at the local hardware store at the time, and knew lots of guys that worked the schools and businesses around the area), so he let me in to use a phone. So I did what I figured I should do, and called the police to report a quartet of punks running around with my gun.
Their response was unexpectedly enthusiastic. They sent out seven patrol cars and a K-9 unit. I was flattered. All this to help little old me?
Nope.
The first officer was alright. He took the usual stuff - My name and age, but couldn't look at my ID because it just got stolen. I told 'em they could ask anybody who I was. I didn't have anything to hide.
Then the other six of those seven interceptors came rolling around the corner. I didn't get everyone's name. The Good Cop's name was LaVincent, I think. I've spoken to him since. After him came a tall guy with buzzcut, who got in my face and in the first words out of his mouth flat out accused me of being a liar.
I don't like that sort of thing. I wasn't about to backtalk him. Part of the drill, I figured.
He put his finger in my face and told me I was out that night to buy crack. He told me I tried to trade my shotgun for drugs and got buyer's remorse. I told him he could test me any old time he wanted. I got nothing to hide, just like before.
After that I showed them where it happened. They took the dog sniffing around and did some detective work, but too many people went by that place to get anything conclusive. They said the dog took up my scent - I'd believe it. Anything else was up in the air.
He got in my face some more. Told me if I was lying to him he'd personally throw me in the slammer. He called me a criminal and a drug addict, and that's when I snapped.
I got right up off that curb and called him a liar. I told him I'm not allowed to sling that kind of mud around in his name and he better not think he's allowed to throw it in mine.
I was pretty pissed off at that point. Here I was a grown man just about ready to cry over this bullying. A little while later I did. That's neither here nor there. Like I said - I got nothing to hide.
After that the Good Cop, LaVincent, let me have a seat in his car (no cuffs) and he and Buzzcut seemed to have it out over by the edge of the parking lot.
They searched my jacket (I wasn't wearing it at the time) and found some of my ammo in there. They (Buzzcut, primarily - I really must find out his name) got in my face again and wanted to know why I had ammo. I had to repeat to them exactly what happened, especially the part about the shooting range and the gun being stolen. Logical that somebody going to the range would have some ammo, you'd think.
I had some reloads in there I was testing. I had leftovers, because at the indoor range they get picky about that stuff and I try not to leave too much of it lying around.
Buzzcut told me that I "can't do that", and I'm "not allowed to manufacture my own reloads". Let's be clear on this - That officer lied to my face about the law.
I let them call my old man and they took me home. Then it all went wrong.
They lied to my father and I. They said it's illegal and unsafe to have non-factory ammunition, and they could arrest me for it. They offered us a deal: If we let them in to take all of my 'manufactured' ammo and dispose of it they'd let it slide.
Like idiots, we bought it let them in.
They strong armed me out into the hallway and wouldn't let me give them my ammo myself. Instead, they tore everything apart looking for anything and everything (probably thought they were going to find drugs). They made a lot of derogatory comments about my gun collection. They made a lot of derogatory comments about my airsoft stuff, too.
I'm an avid airsoft player. Maybe you've heard of airsoft. It's sort of like paintball - A contact projectile sport. The guns are usually replicas of real ones, and they fire 6mm plastic BB's at about 300 FPS. They won't break the skin or leave a mark for long, but if you get lit up by one you know it.
I play with various folks around the area, usually military simulation stuff and tactical practice. It's fun.
Anyway, I had some my smoke bombs in my airsoft kit. Smoke bombs that, I should note, are legal in Delaware. You can buy 'em at paintball shops anywhere in the state.
Anyway, they found one of them and threw a fit. They demanded to know exactly what it was and I told them. Instead of listening to me, they pushed me out of my house and called the bomb squad.
I'm not a big fan of the bomb squad officer they sent out, to be perfectly frank with you. His name is Milton, I believe. He came in and made a big stink about my smoke bomb He threatened me with 'federal prison' and told me I was 'an idiot'. He made a lot of derogatory comments about my guns and airsoft, too, saying "If I see you on the street with that airsoft gun I am going to draw my weapon and fire, because I am going home to my family."
Exact quote. Officer Milton of the New Castle County, Delaware police department said to my face that if he sees me doing something perfectly legal (even on my own property, arguably) he's going to ignore the law (about warnings) and shoot me on the spot.
Does that make you feel warm and fuzzy inside?
They cuffed me and threw me in the back of a cop car. I sat there for about an hour (still had my watch) while they ripped the house apart. After a while they all started leaving. LaVincent and Harris were having some sort of conversation outside the car, but I didn't hear any of it because LaVincent turned the cruiser's radio up really loud so I wouldn't hear.
They took my Mossberg 590 and my CX4 Storm, as well as my camcorder all of my ammo, and the magazines for my .22. They left my .22 and Tec-9. None of these goods have been returned to me, nor my phone calls, despite repeated requests on my part.
Back to the story.
Then they took me to the police station and threw me in a cell. They took my watch, but at about three in the morning they hauled me off to an interrogation room that had a clock on the wall. Another officer I'd never seen before came in and gave me a form to sign. It listed off all my Miranda rights, and I had no problem with that.
Then he tried to pin a bombing on me.
I kid you not.
Apparently, earlier that night they'd found a makeshift pipe bomb a couple miles away from where I was. This guy kept trying to weasel a 'confession' out of me, saying things like 'we know things that you don't think we know, so there's no use lying'.
I told him he wasn't only barking up the wrong tree, but he had the wrong forest altogether.
Eventually he gave up and let me go back to my cell. As an aside, they eventually caught the guy leaving pipe bombs around. Needless to say, it wasn't me. I didn't learn this until about six months afterwards.
In the morning they booked me for three counts of "Manufacture of Explosive Devices" along with a laundry list of misdemeanors. I made bail and went home, facing the inevitable end of being incarcerated for decades (depending on how well the DA did in fearmongering) as an armed, mad bombing lunatic for crimes that I never committed in the first place.
I already faced the ruination of my career, my freedom, and my life. I had a mental breakdown. I got pretty depressed during that time, and eventually buckled and went to see a doctor about it.
As soon as I said that, I'll bet you figured out where this is going.
Deemed a fit and healthy man, I went home to await my trial and possible incarceration for the rest of my natural born existence.
None of the felony charges stuck for obvious reasons, and all they could nail me for was "Criminal Nuisance", which is defined as one "Knowingly creating a dangerous situation for others", if I remember correctly. Their basis for this was because I had legal ammo and legal smoke bombs in the house.
The DA, a bit zealous and hopefully a bit green, still tried to paint me as a terrorist and recommended 1 year of state prison, well above the maximum for even repeated attempts. The judge, thankfully, swatted him down and assigned 1 year of level two probation.
Boy could I hardly wait.
My term expired on the 26th of January this year. The first thing I tried to do, of course, was get my guns back. The second thing I did was look into Beretta's new PX4 Storm pistol to compliment my carbine.
Nuh-uh. State check denied. I got a number from the FFL to call for questions, that apparently led to someone's telephone at the State Police HQ in Dover that is never answered.
I got through this morning. The answer? I'm prohibited not because I allegedly tried to blow up a patch of road in Wilmington, not because I just got off probation, but because I had the audacity to go to a doctor about an emotional breakdown resulting from insinuation of the same. The lady at the police department helpfully informed me that I had attended a "state institution" in 2004 and that this was grounds to prohibit me.
I disagree with that. First up, I was never told in any of the paperwork I signed that where I was seeing a doctor was a state institution. They never declared me insane, dangerous, mentally unfit, or anything otherwise unsavory other than a down on his luck schlepp that was going through some hard (and unfair, in the words of one doctor) stuff. So, yellow form: Have you even been declared mentally unfit for committed to any state mental institution? No, not to my knowledge.
This has not only gotten my goat, but gotten my pig and my horse, too.
I'm at a loss. This is where my reasoning gets philosophical. Bear with me, here.
Notwithstanding the fact that my psychiatric help was voluntary (I'd seen doctors before buying my long guns and nobody complained) but the Delaware State Constitution clearly states, in Article 1, Subsection 20:
"Right to keep and bear arms.
Section 20. A person has the right to keep and bear arms for the defense of self, family, home and State, and for hunting and recreational use. (4-16-87)"
Now, we all know the bits about felons giving up certain rights in the acts of infringing on the rights of others in the process of committing the crimes to make them felons in the first place. (Deep breath.) I'm not a felon.
I may need my reading glasses for this one, but the clause in the constitution does not read "A person has the right to keep and bear arms for the defense of self, family, home and State, and for hunting and recreational use, unless they have ever come within smelling distance of a shrink or a hospital. (1-12-06)"
My only lines of reasoning to justify this are that I am either somehow A) void of my rights, or B) no longer a "person".
I don't like either of those propositions. I'll let you make the judgment call on that.
Should we be letting known lunatics buy firearms willy nilly? Well, prickly topic. Short answer: Of course not. But should we be prohibiting law abiding, non insane citizens who can otherwise operate deadly machinery (I just bought a car), imbue alcohol, and so forth? How far is too far?
I don't know about you, but I'd rather that the gun owner go see a shrink about his problems instead of keeping the guns and not seeing the shrink at all.
Wouldn't you?
Point two: The police confiscated my nice guns but left me with my cheap ones. It would stand to reason that a Mossberg 702, even if only an 85 dollar .22 rifle, is still a firearm. You can laugh at my expense about the Tec-9, too.
Isn't it nice of them to graciously leave me with an article that nobody told me (until this morning) it is illegal for me to own?
I'm afraid to go turn the thing in to the police, even, for fear that they'll try to lock me up for still having the thing. All they'd have to do NOW is look at the evidence list versus the record of firearms I've bought in the state and notice the discrepancy.
Can you say entrapment?
So a beseech those who are considerably more experienced in these matters than I: What am I supposed to do now? Do you know a good lawyer I can hire? What's the best course of action to retain my rights? Or am I just way off base and hosed forever?
Edit: Spelling.
Last edited:
