On April 30th, 1980, I shot and killed a man in defense of my oldest friend Bill. He was getting a divorce from his adulterous wife, and hard feelings existed over bruises seen on the two year old son that had not existed before the boyfriend moved in with the mother. That night, the mother was due to pick up the son at my house as she had done many times before without incident. Myself, my brother, Bill, and his two year old son were all sitting on my front porch awaiting the wife. Without warning, two well muscled males jumped the railing of the front porch and began swinging a baseball bat and a tire iron. My brother and I retreated into the house, and Bill stood alone cornered on the porch with his little son. I grabbed my Ruger 10-22 rifle loaded with CCI Stinger HPs. I heard Bill screaming, so I ran to the storm door and saw him huddled in the corner bleeding with blood profusing running down his face. At the door, perp#2 had a raised tire iron daring me to step out. So I kicked the storm door open with my right foot and shot the guy with the bat as it was raised to connect with Bill's head. Batboy dropped on the spot and his partner in crime jumped the railing and disappeared into the night. I called the police, leaned the rifle into a corner of the room, and sat in a folding chair in the middle of the living room awaiting their arrival. Ten minutes later the police arrived. To the officer on the scene I declared "I shot him with that gun", and refused to speak further. The EMTs arrived and pronounced him dead. I was arrested and charged with first degree murder, voluntary manslaughter, and involuntary manslaughter. What happened next permanently lowered my opinion of police officers. One of the two officers angrily and relentlessly pressured me to make a statement, which I refused. When I was taken downtown to the Allegheny county jail, I asked about the upcoming procedures and was told by the same officer to shut my mouth if I knew what was good for me. At Allegheny county jail, I was allowed to make my first (and only) phone call. With a black police officer at my elbow, I called my father and told him the total story. After the call, the black police officer, who had listed in to the entire call, took pity upon me and suggested that avail myself of the services of who he considered the best lawyer in Pittsburgh (Edgar Snyder). That man is the main reason that I firmly choose NOT to be racist today. In jail, when I went to make my daily call, I had to fill out a form, which immediately after I had filled it out, the scumbag in charge of me crumbled it up in front of me and told me to return to my cell. I went to trial, and the judge, hearing all of the evidence, said that he would dismiss all of the charges based on some law that said that a person in Pennsylvania has the right to use deadly force in place of another who had that right. Except that nobody had ever won a case on that law to be used as a precedent. So it had to go to the jury. So it went to the jury. My lawyer said that if they reach a decision in one hour, they've decided to convict. If they reach a decision in fours hours, their likely going to confict. Four and a half hours later, he was looking ashamed, and I was feeling doomed. Five hours and fortyfive minutes later the jury had reached a decision. NOT guilty on all counts. The judge had each member of the jury polled to verify their decision, then ordered the police to return my weapon and ammunition. My lawyer told me that my case would afterward be the legal precedent in Pennsylvania for a third person using deadly force in defense of another (Thompson vs Commonwealth). So I feel good that have strengthened the 2nd amendment freedoms in Pennsylvania. What have I learned from this? That all officers of law are not honorable. And that some of them, ARE, totally honorable and keep their moral oath. My parents lost their life savings paying the lawyer who successfully defended me. That the childhood friend who I saved, was unworthy of the risk I had taken, having mockingly suggested that I should have tried to use the rifle as a club to beat off the attackers. I was 26 when this happened. Now at 67, I still think of it. Killing someone is not a little thing, even if you're right. You will never forget it. May God forgive me on my last day.