Tropical Buzz
Member
This actually happened in July and though I was initially reluctant to post about it here, I brought it up in a current thread in the legal forum and I've decided to relate it here for critique and comment.
This is a actually a copy of a post I made elsewhere shortly after the incident occurred.
It's carnival season down here so a buddy and I decided to rent a corporate box at the local stadium and invite a bunch of friends to party it up while watching big steel band competition. The show was supposed to end around 11pm and the plan was for most of us to head back and finish off the night at my restaurant.
Well, after a few rain delays at the stadium, it was almost 2am by the time a small group of us got back to the lounge and staked out a corner of the balcony. I had borrowed two of my waitresses to serve drinks and eats at the show so they were tired, as was the chef, the manager and the rest of the staff after a long, busy night. I told them to wrap it up and head home and I would hang out with my group and lock up when we were done.
Close to 4am, we finally called it a night and I headed for home - normally a quick 10 minute drive on the quiet late night roads. Not this time though - I soon ran smack into a big traffic jam as hundreds of young people were just leaving a big dance party at a warehouse type joint in the middle of a nearby industrial park. Parked cars lined both sides of the road and traffic was at a standstill as crowds of people headed for their vehicles and drivers were doing u-turns and 3 pointers and generally snarling things up.
I was the only vehicle heading north - everyone else was either heading south or trying to get turned around. As I sat there watching the rowdy, excited kids - mostly teens and early 20's - stream by, I silently hoped I would pass through without incident and I made a conscious promise to myself not to allow my temper to get out of hand if faced with any minor provocation like a slap on my windshield or some other BS that is likely to happen in a crowd of liquored up young people at four in the morning.
I was able to ease along another hundred yards or so and I came up behind an older blacked-out 3 series BMW that seemed to be stopped for no reason. I beeped my horn and a guy got out of the back seat and walked over to a roadside group shouting at me to relax and take my effin' time. I ignored him and was just happy to see the car start moving as it wouldn't be much further until I was home free. The BMW driver began backing up a bit to pull a u-turn, which was fine - there was plenty of room between us. Plenty wasn't enough, though, and before I could blow the horn the bimmer's rear light crunched against my front bumper.
I expected the driver to stop and get out to see the damage, but no - the car just kept trying to finish the turn, hampered by traffic in the opposite lane. After an attempted robbery incident a few years ago, I always drive home with my pistol in my lap, positioned for a quick, easy presentation. Aware of the potential volatility of the situation, I took a deep breath to check my rising anger, holstered the gun (OWB strong side, covered by a loose untucked shirt), got out and walked up to the driver's window.
The tinted window came down and I was taken aback to see a pretty young woman behind the wheel. There was no damage to the heavy brush guard on my vehicle and I was about to ask her if she needed some help, but before I could say anything she rasped "What's your f-----g problem?!"
Mistake #1: My blood went instantly to simmer and I said "You hit my vehicle - that's my friggin' problem!" At that point, everything went south.
When I got out of the vehicle, I'd kept an eye on the crowd as they were naturally drawn by the accident. I wasn't too worried about that, but my eyes were scanning for the guy who had exited the car. Not to disappoint, he exploded forward, staggering drunk, cursing and shouting that I have no right to speak that way to his friend. I told him to calm down and keep his distance, this is between me and the driver of the vehicle that hit me. He had a bunch of support though, as two other guys joined him and a serious looking character got out of a fancy black SUV and joined in the chorus of curses and threats. He was a largish fellow, wearing a bomber jacket and a few pounds of gold around his neck. "Drug dealer", I remember thinking to myself.
Fortified now with courage, the drunk guy strode towards me, one hand raised saying he was going to slap my face. I had my vehicle at my back , cars and increasingly hostile kids everywhere else. I told him to stay back but I already knew he would keep coming. I lunged forward and hit him hard with a two handed thrust high on his chest. He fell back on his butt, slamming into the wheel of the BMW. He stayed down, holding the back of his head and started retching like he was going to puke. The dealer type pulled a long shank - a home made "ice pick" - out of his jacket and started towards me saying he was going to "open up my belly" and at that point I drew the gun and pointed it at his chest.
He stopped advancing but continued waving the shank and threatening, shouting to the crowd that I would never have the guts to pull the trigger. He was wrong. My finger was on the trigger and he was about 12 feet away. I was fully committed to firing if he advanced another step.
The situation was out of hand, the crowd was into it and I knew there was at least one other hostile guy in the group. Sure enough, the guy I was facing glanced to my right and I noticed another fellow edging up behind me along the side of my vehicle. I whipped the gun around one handed and pointed at his face, keeping my left hand pointed forward at the other guy. He stumbled back and I whipped it back towards the first guy with the shank. My finger was tightened past the trigger safety and I was on the verge of firing. If he had moved I would have fired. He didn't and I quickly shifted aim back towards the second guy but he ducked into the crowd and people around him, anticipating a shot, scattered.
I swung back to the armed man and shouted "F----g drop it! Now!" He cursed back and continued to hold the shank up high and shouted towards the crowd "Lets kill that man! He'll never shoot that gun!" It was decision time for me - I knew he was too close to me with that weapon, I was aiming squarely at his sternum and my finger was tight on the trigger.
Just then another man - a Rasta in a long robe-type garment addressed the guy by name and told him to stop being a fool - put the weapon down before he gets killed. He pointed to me and said "I know that man, he's a righteous fella, boy, but he's going to shoot your ass!"
I had not a clue who he was, but he kept saying he knows me, I'm a good man and that the guy better back down if he doesn't want to die. It worked. He lowered the shank but continued making a case that I had abused his female friend. The girl chimed in shouting that I'd just walked up to her car and started cussing her off and now I'm looking to shoot somebody. Others in the crowd started berating me that us "bourgeoise" (local slang for "rich" or upper class) guys with our licensed guns think we can do whatever we want.
I had lowered the gun to my side and said "Listen! She hit my vehicle and continued driving. She started with the verbal abuse when I approached her and I only drew the gun when this guy threatened me with a weapon." The rasta told the guy he was wrong, they spoke for a second and he hugged him and said "Go home. Go home my boy."
The fellow helped his fallen drunk friend into his vehicle, they started off and the crowd began to move on. Buzzing with adrenaline, I made a mental note of his name and license plate, holstered my pistol, climbed in and breathed a long sigh of relief. There were no more cars in front of me, only people, and I was happy to be getting out of there and finally heading home. But it wasn't over yet.
Just as I was about to start moving, four SSU (Special Services Unit) men in vests and full camo gear surrounded my vehicle, pointing M16's and ordered me to exit. I eased into park and slowly stepped out, hands high. I heard a female voice say "Yes that's him! He's the one with the gun!"
Rifles pointed, they ordered me to place my hands on the vehicle. I often train and shoot with SSU guys and I'm quite close to a couple of the officers but I didn't recognize any of these guys. I complied and told them I'm licensed. The one in charge demanded to see the license and I said "Wallet. Left front pocket."
They retrieved the wallet and asked where the gun was. I told them it was in the holster on my right side and one guy lifted my shirt and started tugging on the grip. The holster is a retention type with a thumb release and even though I tried to explain, he was having no success freeing it and just kept tugging.
I said "Look, I just got away from a guy who wanted to cut me open and now I feel like I'm about to be shot in the leg with my own gun. It's a Glock - no safety - and it's chambered - please be careful!" They gave up and told me to take it out and hand it over. I turned around and said not a flippin' chance while rifles are pointed at me. I kept my hands up.
They looked at each other and the one in charge asked to see the license. My family name is fairly well known but if he recognized it, it didn't show at all as he read the particulars aloud. A fellow in the crowd said "That's Buzz (my nickname), You guys don't know Buzz?" He looked up and said "You're Buzz?" I nodded and he seemed to relax and signalled the others to lower the rifles.
He asked me to hand over the gun and I complied, carefully holding it by the end of the grip between thumb and index finger. They immediately removed the magazine and cleared the chamber. I asked them if I needed to call my lawyer. He half smiled and said "Just tell us what happened." I did, and stressed that IMO, I exercised commendable restraint - someone else in my shoes would have shot that guy, and justifiably so as well. He jotted some notes and said "Sir we are returning your firearm and magazine, but please don't load and chamber it until you are clear of the area."
Just then someone ran up and shouted "Fight!" and the officer smiled and nodded at me as they took off in the direction of another commotion further up the road. As I slowly drove by a couple of minutes later, I saw one of the SSU guys manhandling a huge fellow with a torn shirt and a bloody head. Another one gave a broad grin and saluted me when I passed. I nodded wearily, got to open road and finally, finally headed for home.
My heart rate gradually returned to normal as I played with the dogs in the yard. The sun was not quite risen yet, but birds were chirping already and I reflected on how differently things could have turned out, particularly if I had not been armed and, perhaps more importantly, practiced and trained.
A couple of days later, I ran into the sargeant of the local SSU detachment at my bar. When I told him what had happened, he laughed and said he was the one who dispatched the squad after a young woman came up and told them a man up the road was threatening to shoot people. They were anticipating trouble that night and were out in force. One of the squad members told him it was his buddy (me) when they returned. They all agreed that I would have been fully justified if I had actually shot the guy. Personally, I am very happy it didn't end that way.
I have had many conversations about the incident with many different people and I welcome your comments and feedback here.
This is a actually a copy of a post I made elsewhere shortly after the incident occurred.
It's carnival season down here so a buddy and I decided to rent a corporate box at the local stadium and invite a bunch of friends to party it up while watching big steel band competition. The show was supposed to end around 11pm and the plan was for most of us to head back and finish off the night at my restaurant.
Well, after a few rain delays at the stadium, it was almost 2am by the time a small group of us got back to the lounge and staked out a corner of the balcony. I had borrowed two of my waitresses to serve drinks and eats at the show so they were tired, as was the chef, the manager and the rest of the staff after a long, busy night. I told them to wrap it up and head home and I would hang out with my group and lock up when we were done.
Close to 4am, we finally called it a night and I headed for home - normally a quick 10 minute drive on the quiet late night roads. Not this time though - I soon ran smack into a big traffic jam as hundreds of young people were just leaving a big dance party at a warehouse type joint in the middle of a nearby industrial park. Parked cars lined both sides of the road and traffic was at a standstill as crowds of people headed for their vehicles and drivers were doing u-turns and 3 pointers and generally snarling things up.
I was the only vehicle heading north - everyone else was either heading south or trying to get turned around. As I sat there watching the rowdy, excited kids - mostly teens and early 20's - stream by, I silently hoped I would pass through without incident and I made a conscious promise to myself not to allow my temper to get out of hand if faced with any minor provocation like a slap on my windshield or some other BS that is likely to happen in a crowd of liquored up young people at four in the morning.
I was able to ease along another hundred yards or so and I came up behind an older blacked-out 3 series BMW that seemed to be stopped for no reason. I beeped my horn and a guy got out of the back seat and walked over to a roadside group shouting at me to relax and take my effin' time. I ignored him and was just happy to see the car start moving as it wouldn't be much further until I was home free. The BMW driver began backing up a bit to pull a u-turn, which was fine - there was plenty of room between us. Plenty wasn't enough, though, and before I could blow the horn the bimmer's rear light crunched against my front bumper.
I expected the driver to stop and get out to see the damage, but no - the car just kept trying to finish the turn, hampered by traffic in the opposite lane. After an attempted robbery incident a few years ago, I always drive home with my pistol in my lap, positioned for a quick, easy presentation. Aware of the potential volatility of the situation, I took a deep breath to check my rising anger, holstered the gun (OWB strong side, covered by a loose untucked shirt), got out and walked up to the driver's window.
The tinted window came down and I was taken aback to see a pretty young woman behind the wheel. There was no damage to the heavy brush guard on my vehicle and I was about to ask her if she needed some help, but before I could say anything she rasped "What's your f-----g problem?!"
Mistake #1: My blood went instantly to simmer and I said "You hit my vehicle - that's my friggin' problem!" At that point, everything went south.
When I got out of the vehicle, I'd kept an eye on the crowd as they were naturally drawn by the accident. I wasn't too worried about that, but my eyes were scanning for the guy who had exited the car. Not to disappoint, he exploded forward, staggering drunk, cursing and shouting that I have no right to speak that way to his friend. I told him to calm down and keep his distance, this is between me and the driver of the vehicle that hit me. He had a bunch of support though, as two other guys joined him and a serious looking character got out of a fancy black SUV and joined in the chorus of curses and threats. He was a largish fellow, wearing a bomber jacket and a few pounds of gold around his neck. "Drug dealer", I remember thinking to myself.
Fortified now with courage, the drunk guy strode towards me, one hand raised saying he was going to slap my face. I had my vehicle at my back , cars and increasingly hostile kids everywhere else. I told him to stay back but I already knew he would keep coming. I lunged forward and hit him hard with a two handed thrust high on his chest. He fell back on his butt, slamming into the wheel of the BMW. He stayed down, holding the back of his head and started retching like he was going to puke. The dealer type pulled a long shank - a home made "ice pick" - out of his jacket and started towards me saying he was going to "open up my belly" and at that point I drew the gun and pointed it at his chest.
He stopped advancing but continued waving the shank and threatening, shouting to the crowd that I would never have the guts to pull the trigger. He was wrong. My finger was on the trigger and he was about 12 feet away. I was fully committed to firing if he advanced another step.
The situation was out of hand, the crowd was into it and I knew there was at least one other hostile guy in the group. Sure enough, the guy I was facing glanced to my right and I noticed another fellow edging up behind me along the side of my vehicle. I whipped the gun around one handed and pointed at his face, keeping my left hand pointed forward at the other guy. He stumbled back and I whipped it back towards the first guy with the shank. My finger was tightened past the trigger safety and I was on the verge of firing. If he had moved I would have fired. He didn't and I quickly shifted aim back towards the second guy but he ducked into the crowd and people around him, anticipating a shot, scattered.
I swung back to the armed man and shouted "F----g drop it! Now!" He cursed back and continued to hold the shank up high and shouted towards the crowd "Lets kill that man! He'll never shoot that gun!" It was decision time for me - I knew he was too close to me with that weapon, I was aiming squarely at his sternum and my finger was tight on the trigger.
Just then another man - a Rasta in a long robe-type garment addressed the guy by name and told him to stop being a fool - put the weapon down before he gets killed. He pointed to me and said "I know that man, he's a righteous fella, boy, but he's going to shoot your ass!"
I had not a clue who he was, but he kept saying he knows me, I'm a good man and that the guy better back down if he doesn't want to die. It worked. He lowered the shank but continued making a case that I had abused his female friend. The girl chimed in shouting that I'd just walked up to her car and started cussing her off and now I'm looking to shoot somebody. Others in the crowd started berating me that us "bourgeoise" (local slang for "rich" or upper class) guys with our licensed guns think we can do whatever we want.
I had lowered the gun to my side and said "Listen! She hit my vehicle and continued driving. She started with the verbal abuse when I approached her and I only drew the gun when this guy threatened me with a weapon." The rasta told the guy he was wrong, they spoke for a second and he hugged him and said "Go home. Go home my boy."
The fellow helped his fallen drunk friend into his vehicle, they started off and the crowd began to move on. Buzzing with adrenaline, I made a mental note of his name and license plate, holstered my pistol, climbed in and breathed a long sigh of relief. There were no more cars in front of me, only people, and I was happy to be getting out of there and finally heading home. But it wasn't over yet.
Just as I was about to start moving, four SSU (Special Services Unit) men in vests and full camo gear surrounded my vehicle, pointing M16's and ordered me to exit. I eased into park and slowly stepped out, hands high. I heard a female voice say "Yes that's him! He's the one with the gun!"
Rifles pointed, they ordered me to place my hands on the vehicle. I often train and shoot with SSU guys and I'm quite close to a couple of the officers but I didn't recognize any of these guys. I complied and told them I'm licensed. The one in charge demanded to see the license and I said "Wallet. Left front pocket."
They retrieved the wallet and asked where the gun was. I told them it was in the holster on my right side and one guy lifted my shirt and started tugging on the grip. The holster is a retention type with a thumb release and even though I tried to explain, he was having no success freeing it and just kept tugging.
I said "Look, I just got away from a guy who wanted to cut me open and now I feel like I'm about to be shot in the leg with my own gun. It's a Glock - no safety - and it's chambered - please be careful!" They gave up and told me to take it out and hand it over. I turned around and said not a flippin' chance while rifles are pointed at me. I kept my hands up.
They looked at each other and the one in charge asked to see the license. My family name is fairly well known but if he recognized it, it didn't show at all as he read the particulars aloud. A fellow in the crowd said "That's Buzz (my nickname), You guys don't know Buzz?" He looked up and said "You're Buzz?" I nodded and he seemed to relax and signalled the others to lower the rifles.
He asked me to hand over the gun and I complied, carefully holding it by the end of the grip between thumb and index finger. They immediately removed the magazine and cleared the chamber. I asked them if I needed to call my lawyer. He half smiled and said "Just tell us what happened." I did, and stressed that IMO, I exercised commendable restraint - someone else in my shoes would have shot that guy, and justifiably so as well. He jotted some notes and said "Sir we are returning your firearm and magazine, but please don't load and chamber it until you are clear of the area."
Just then someone ran up and shouted "Fight!" and the officer smiled and nodded at me as they took off in the direction of another commotion further up the road. As I slowly drove by a couple of minutes later, I saw one of the SSU guys manhandling a huge fellow with a torn shirt and a bloody head. Another one gave a broad grin and saluted me when I passed. I nodded wearily, got to open road and finally, finally headed for home.
My heart rate gradually returned to normal as I played with the dogs in the yard. The sun was not quite risen yet, but birds were chirping already and I reflected on how differently things could have turned out, particularly if I had not been armed and, perhaps more importantly, practiced and trained.
A couple of days later, I ran into the sargeant of the local SSU detachment at my bar. When I told him what had happened, he laughed and said he was the one who dispatched the squad after a young woman came up and told them a man up the road was threatening to shoot people. They were anticipating trouble that night and were out in force. One of the squad members told him it was his buddy (me) when they returned. They all agreed that I would have been fully justified if I had actually shot the guy. Personally, I am very happy it didn't end that way.
I have had many conversations about the incident with many different people and I welcome your comments and feedback here.
