bill2
Member
from the SG Chronicle - another article on guns. I am particularly interested in the paragraph below in which the columnist says that CA waives the requirement to have a CCW permit if you believe your life to be in danger. Is this true?
_____________________________________________
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2006/01/08/BAGPDGKAG41.DTL
Rebecca took out a life insurance policy on herself four years ago. She made her daughter the beneficiary. She was 51.
She believed that her husband was going to kill her. It was just a matter of time. She believes it still, even though she left him in 2001 and went underground through the California Confidential Address Program. She uses a phony address in Sacramento provided by the program (and is not using her real name for this column) to remain hidden.
Last summer, there were signs he had found her.
So Rebecca started carrying a gun inside a pouch in her purse.
What happened next is a sobering reminder of how the legal system is still struggling to understand the complex and vulnerable lives of battered women.
Rebecca had owned the gun since escaping from her husband. She bought it after the required 10-day waiting period and registered it in her name. She knew the police couldn't always be around to protect her. A gun leveled the playing field against a man bigger and stronger than she was. Maybe it would save her from becoming one of the 1,300 people killed in the United States each year in domestic violence attacks.
One evening last August, Rebecca was making the long drive home from Mill Valley, where she had to drop off some papers for a client. She stopped at an Albertsons supermarket in Half Moon Bay. She paid for her groceries, picked up the shopping bag and her wallet but left her purse at the end of the checkout counter.
The momentary lapse plunged her into a legal mess that has turned her from victim to criminal. She was arrested for carrying a loaded gun and sentenced last month by a San Mateo County court to 10 days in jail and 18 months' probation. Her conviction means she can no longer possess a gun, and it might jeopardize her participation in the Confidential Address Program.
"I'm 55 years old,'' Rebecca said by phone. "I've never committed a crime. I'm not a threat to anybody.''
Rebecca didn't think she needed a permit to carry a concealed weapon because California law waives the permit requirement for anyone who "reasonably believes that he or she is in grave danger because of circumstances forming the basis of a current restraining order.'' Rebecca had a restraining order against her husband.
What she didn't know was that the restraining order, which she understood to be permanent, had expired in June.
"The restraining order would have been enough to take it to a jury trial,'' said Ben Lamarr, the lawyer who represented her in court. "It would have created a technical defense, but without that, she didn't have anything.''
Rebecca's appeal of the sentence was approved this week. It means she can spend her 10 days working in the jail but won't have to sleep there. Still, the sentence will cost her $20 per day plus an additional $60 fee, not to mention 10 days of lost wages, the gas to drive from the county where she lives to the San Mateo County Jail and the $160 fine she already paid.
"It would cost me less to do the time,'' Rebecca said.
More important, the conviction leaves Rebecca more vulnerable than ever to her abusive husband. For one, the district attorney's office mistakenly included her actual street address on all its documents, which are public record. The office was scrambling on Friday to delete the information.
And two, she now has no protection. (I wonder whether San Francisco voters considered domestic violence situations when they voted in November to ban all handguns and what consequences women like Rebecca might pay.)
"I'm usually not in the business of trying to get anybody's gun back, but with this conviction, she couldn't have it even in her house anymore,'' said attorney Myra Weiher, who is trying to get the conviction set aside.
"This is scary stuff she's facing (from her batterer). Guys like this don't behave in ways regular criminals do. They're stealth. They're all about terror.''
Rebecca knows she made a big mistake in leaving her purse with a loaded gun at a public place. Her lapse was a potentially dangerous one; it should not be minimized. But how do we balance her mistake against the danger she faces every day from a violent man who left her crushed and fearful, whose beatings and threats drove her into hiding?
The law against carrying concealed guns makes good sense. But so many women every year are killed by their abusive boyfriends and husbands. Restraining orders, as we know, can't stop them. The police often can't stop them. I don't know what the solution is. But something's wrong when, in trying to keep herself alive, the terrorized woman becomes the criminal.
_____________________________________________
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2006/01/08/BAGPDGKAG41.DTL
Rebecca took out a life insurance policy on herself four years ago. She made her daughter the beneficiary. She was 51.
She believed that her husband was going to kill her. It was just a matter of time. She believes it still, even though she left him in 2001 and went underground through the California Confidential Address Program. She uses a phony address in Sacramento provided by the program (and is not using her real name for this column) to remain hidden.
Last summer, there were signs he had found her.
So Rebecca started carrying a gun inside a pouch in her purse.
What happened next is a sobering reminder of how the legal system is still struggling to understand the complex and vulnerable lives of battered women.
Rebecca had owned the gun since escaping from her husband. She bought it after the required 10-day waiting period and registered it in her name. She knew the police couldn't always be around to protect her. A gun leveled the playing field against a man bigger and stronger than she was. Maybe it would save her from becoming one of the 1,300 people killed in the United States each year in domestic violence attacks.
One evening last August, Rebecca was making the long drive home from Mill Valley, where she had to drop off some papers for a client. She stopped at an Albertsons supermarket in Half Moon Bay. She paid for her groceries, picked up the shopping bag and her wallet but left her purse at the end of the checkout counter.
The momentary lapse plunged her into a legal mess that has turned her from victim to criminal. She was arrested for carrying a loaded gun and sentenced last month by a San Mateo County court to 10 days in jail and 18 months' probation. Her conviction means she can no longer possess a gun, and it might jeopardize her participation in the Confidential Address Program.
"I'm 55 years old,'' Rebecca said by phone. "I've never committed a crime. I'm not a threat to anybody.''
Rebecca didn't think she needed a permit to carry a concealed weapon because California law waives the permit requirement for anyone who "reasonably believes that he or she is in grave danger because of circumstances forming the basis of a current restraining order.'' Rebecca had a restraining order against her husband.
What she didn't know was that the restraining order, which she understood to be permanent, had expired in June.
"The restraining order would have been enough to take it to a jury trial,'' said Ben Lamarr, the lawyer who represented her in court. "It would have created a technical defense, but without that, she didn't have anything.''
Rebecca's appeal of the sentence was approved this week. It means she can spend her 10 days working in the jail but won't have to sleep there. Still, the sentence will cost her $20 per day plus an additional $60 fee, not to mention 10 days of lost wages, the gas to drive from the county where she lives to the San Mateo County Jail and the $160 fine she already paid.
"It would cost me less to do the time,'' Rebecca said.
More important, the conviction leaves Rebecca more vulnerable than ever to her abusive husband. For one, the district attorney's office mistakenly included her actual street address on all its documents, which are public record. The office was scrambling on Friday to delete the information.
And two, she now has no protection. (I wonder whether San Francisco voters considered domestic violence situations when they voted in November to ban all handguns and what consequences women like Rebecca might pay.)
"I'm usually not in the business of trying to get anybody's gun back, but with this conviction, she couldn't have it even in her house anymore,'' said attorney Myra Weiher, who is trying to get the conviction set aside.
"This is scary stuff she's facing (from her batterer). Guys like this don't behave in ways regular criminals do. They're stealth. They're all about terror.''
Rebecca knows she made a big mistake in leaving her purse with a loaded gun at a public place. Her lapse was a potentially dangerous one; it should not be minimized. But how do we balance her mistake against the danger she faces every day from a violent man who left her crushed and fearful, whose beatings and threats drove her into hiding?
The law against carrying concealed guns makes good sense. But so many women every year are killed by their abusive boyfriends and husbands. Restraining orders, as we know, can't stop them. The police often can't stop them. I don't know what the solution is. But something's wrong when, in trying to keep herself alive, the terrorized woman becomes the criminal.
