I grew up in a rough enough neighborhood that I began carrying when I was 14. I wasn't in a gang, wasn't a thug, wasn't a revolving door juvie kid. I just wanted to keep my blood where it was. Inside my body.
That year, I'd already been stabbed in the right thigh in the schoolyard as I was walking home, and had already been shot with a 20 gauge full of birdshot. I still have a scar on my thigh and a lump in my chin where a piece of bismuth shot is still there and I'm 35.
So, painting this kid as some thug because he had a firearm is sheer speculation that makes you feel good about your assumptions of people.
Not all kids that wear baggy pants and have a flat brim cap are gangsters. It's just a new style, like what leather jackets and long hair were in the 50's and 60's.
Challenge your own assumptions about people.
He had an ND. Bad for him.
When I was fourteen I was a total gearhead and understood exactly how my weapon worked about 20 minutes after I took possession of it. It never happened to me, but it could have.
Heck, it could happen nowadays.