The Day I Pointed a Gun
There is a very peculiar feeling that runs up and down your spine when you are looking down the sights of a loaded assault rifle at another human being. You become very aware of your own breathing and the physical feeling of nausea right in the pit of your stomach. Thoughts, mostly unrelated, rushes through your mind, as the world around you slows down to half-speed. And then you pull the trigger…
No one could prepare me for what was about to happen that day. Obviously, I have had my fair share of training, serving in the military for a year before joining the police force. These were turbulent and uncertain times in post-apartheid South Africa with the new democracy still in its infant stages. But this day started rather uneventful, with only a few petty crimes reported in the morning leg of our twelve-hour shift. The sun was shining brightly as churchgoers made their way home to prepare Sunday lunch. The scent of spring flowers was soon replaced by the intoxicating aroma of home-cooked meals, causing me to radio the station that we were coming in for an early lunch.
As I pulled the patrol vehicle into the parking by the police station, I noticed a woman entering the building. It was obvious to me that she was in a hurry, but we have in the past seen people sprinting through the doors just to ask for directions. Whatever the problem was, I was quite confident that the charge office personnel were equipped to deal with it.
Moments later the charge office commander came running out the door, with the woman I saw a few minutes earlier, following closely behind. “Sergeant!” he started shouting from a distance away. “This complainant laid a charge of armed robbery and attempted rape two days ago. She claims that she had just seen the suspect at premises a few streets down!”
I reacted immediately. During the last few weeks, the area had been terrorized by a spade of armed robberies, usually accompanied by the rape of the female victims.
With the lady in the back seat of our patrol vehicle, we headed to the address she gave us. On our way, we learned that the man was wearing a red baseball jacket and cap. The woman was clearly shaken and I suggested that she remained in the vehicle while my partner and I investigate. As we slowly pulled up to the address in the business district of town, I noticed that the man wasn’t where she stated that she had seen him minutes earlier. We exited the vehicle and I made sure to take the R-5 automatic assault rifle with me in case the suspect was armed or we were outnumbered.
The doors of the automotive shop were closed but I noticed smoke, like from a barbecue, coming from the back of the premises. We slowly made our way to the back of the building. As we approached the large gates separating the front and back yard, I locked eyes with the suspect. There were three other men with him, each holding a bottle of beer and standing around the barbecue fire. It took only a split second for the suspect to realize who we were and take off in the opposite direction, toward the street that runs diagonally along the back. He knew that once I lose sight of him, it would be easy to hide in one of the alleyways. I ordered my partner to take the vehicle around to the next street while I started scaling the massive gate with the assault rifle in my hand.
By the time I touched the ground on the other side, he was about 80 meters, or approximately 240 feet ahead of me. I started the chase, quickly realizing that sprinting while wearing a bulletproof fitted with ceramic plates, was going to slow me down considerably. Nevertheless, I pushed myself until my body was firing on all cylinders. As the lactic acid started building up in the muscles of my thighs it became clear that I wasn’t going to catch up with this man. But there was another option.
Because of the serious nature of the crime, I was legally allowed to apply deadly force to stop the suspect, should all other means be exhausted. I took a quick look around. The patrol vehicle wasn’t anywhere in sight yet. Up ahead the road curved to the left, with a twelve-foot concrete wall running along its perimeter. Once the suspect reached the curve he would be gone. I had only seconds to make a decision.
I lifted the R-5 rifle and released the safety catch, switching it to single shot. I pushed the barrel tightly into my shoulder and aligned my eye with the two sights mounted on top of the rifle. In the distance, I could see the fleeing figure with the red baseball jacket briefly looking over his shoulder. He had since in his effort to escape, lost his cap which was laying on the tarmac about halfway between me and him. My heart was racing and so was my breathing, making it difficult to keep the aim steady.
Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. At the moment I was overcome with a feeling of nausea and a tinkling running up and down my spine. I knew that this could be the moment that changed my life and how I perceive things in the future, and I knew that this would not be a positive change. I felt the cold steel of the rifle’s metal casing against my cheek. Then I pulled the trigger…
The rifle kicked back into my shoulder and my ears started ringing as they usually do after a shot has been fired in such close proximity. In the distance, there was nothing now. No running figure, no red baseball jacket. Just the red cap laying halfway between me and where I last saw the man, and the ringing in my ears remained. I engaged the safety clip on the firearm and started making my way to the curve in the road with millions of thoughts all fighting for the prime spot in my conscious mind.
Reaching the spot where I last saw him, a quick scan of the ground revealed that I must have missed. Immediately a sudden rush of relief came over me, but at the same time, I felt a sense of disappointment for allowing a dangerous criminal to escape. A few moments later the patrol vehicle appeared around the street corner and pulled up next to me. My partner’s smiling face greeted me, but it was the death stare from the cuffed individual in the back of the vehicle that got my attention. Wearing a red baseball jacket.
My partner informed me that the complainant was waiting for us at the station, having made her way back there on foot. I sighed in relief as we made our way back to the police station to book our catch, and brag about it amongst our fellow law enforcers. I unloaded the suspect at the station and accompanied him into the charge office. The woman was standing on the other side of the counter as I handed the man over to the charge office commander to be booked into the holding cells.
The woman stared at him, then covered her face in her hands, shaking her head from side to side. I immediately comforted her by assuring her that she is safe and that he won’t be able to hurt her now. It was her reply that sent me over the edge.
“I am sorry,” she said, “I made a mistake, this is not the man that robbed me!“
I had to run for the toilet, where I spent the next three minutes throwing up.
My partner had found a small bag of Marijuana in the inner pocket of the man’s jacket which turned out to be the reason he took off when he saw me. As I took the cuffs off the man, putting him into the holding cell I noticed the small hole in the side of his red jacket, with a much larger exit hole on the other side…
The moral of my story? Life can turn on a dime, and often a decision made in the heat of the moment can change the entire course of your life. I might have missed that day, but it ended up changing the way I look at life and the decisions we make.
The Day I Pointed a Gun
There is a very peculiar feeling that runs up and down your spine when you are looking down the sights of a loaded assault rifle at another human being. You become very aware of your own breathing and the physical feeling of nausea right in the pit of your stomach. Thoughts, mostly unrelated, rushes through your mind, as the world around you slows down to half-speed. And then you pull the trigger...
No one could prepare me for what was about to happen that day. Obviously I have had my fair share of training, serving in the military for a year before joining the police force. These were turbulent and uncertain times in post-apartheid South Africa with the new democracy still in its infant stages. But this day started rather uneventful, with only a few petty crimes reported in the morning leg of our twelve hour shift. The sun was shining brightly as churchgoers made their way home to prepare Sunday lunch. The scent of spring flowers was soon replaced by the intoxicating aroma of home-cooked meals, causing me to radio the station that we were coming in for an early lunch.
As I pulled the patrol vehicle into the parking by the police station, I noticed a woman entering the building. It was obvious to me that she was in a hurry, but we have in the past seen people sprinting through the doors just to ask for directions. Whatever the problem was, I was quite confident that the charge office personnel were equipped to deal with it.
Moments later the charge office commander came running out the door, with the woman I saw a few minutes earlier, following closely behind. "Sergeant!" he started shouting from a distance away. "This complainant laid a charge of armed robbery and attempted rape two days ago. She claims that she had just seen the suspect at a premises a few streets down!"
I reacted immediately. During the last few weeks the area had been terrorised by a spade of armed robberies, usually accompanied by the rape of the female victims.
With the lady in the back seat of our patrol vehicle we headed to the address she gave us. On our way, we learned that the man was wearing a red baseball jacket and cap. The woman was clearly shaken and I suggested that she remained in the vehicle while my partner and I investigate. As we slowly pulled up to the address in the business district of town, I noticed that the man wasn't where she stated that she had seen him minutes earlier. We exited the vehicle and I made sure to take the R-5 automatic assault rifle with me in case the suspect was armed or we were outnumbered.
The doors of the automotive shop was closed but I noticed smoke, like from a barbecue, coming from the back of the premises. We slowly made our way to the back of the building. As we approached the large gates separating the front and back yard, I locked eyes with the suspect. There were three other men with him, each holding a bottle of beer and standing around the barbecue fire. It took only a split second for the suspect to realise who we were and take off in the opposite direction, toward the street that runs diagonally along the back. He knew that once I loose sight of him, it would be easy to hide in one of the alleyways. I ordered my partner to take the vehicle around to the next street while I started scaling the massive gate with the assault rifle in my hand.
By the time I touched ground on the other side, he was about 80 meters, or approximately 240 feet ahead of me. I started the chase, quickly realising that sprinting while wearing a bulletproof fitted with ceramic plates, was going to slow me down considerably. Nevertheless I pushed myself until my body was firing on all cylinders. As the lactic acid started building up in the muscles of my thighs it became clear that I wasn’t going to catch up with this man. But there was another option.
Because of the serious nature of the crime, I was legally allowed to apply deadly force to stop the suspect, should all other means be exhausted. I took a quick look around. The patrol vehicle wasn't anywhere in sight yet. Up ahead the road curved to the left, with a twelve foot concrete wall running along its perimeter. Once the suspect reached the curve he would be gone. I had only seconds to make a decision.
I lifted the R-5 rifle and released the safety catch, switching it to single shot. I pushed the barrel tightly into my shoulder and aligned my eye with the two sights mounted on top of the rifle. In the distance I could see the fleeing figure with the red baseball jacket briefly looking over his shoulder. He had since in his effort to escape, lost his cap which was laying on the tarmac about halfway between me and him. My heart was racing and so was my breathing, making it difficult to keep the aim steady.
Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. In the moment I was overcome with a feeling of nausea and a tinkling running up and down my spine. I knew that this could be the moment that changed my life and how I perceive things in the future, and I knew that this would not be a positive change. I felt the cold steel of the rifle's metal casing against my cheek. Then I pulled the trigger...
The rifle kicked back into my shoulder and my ears started ringing as they usually do after a shot has been fired in such close proximity. In the distance there was nothing now. No running figure, no red baseball jacket. Just the red cap laying halfway between me and where I last saw the man, and the ringing in my ears remained. I engaged the safety clip on the fiream and started making my way to the curve in the road with millions of thoughts all fighting for prime spot in my conscious mind.
Reaching the spot where I last saw him, a quick scan of the ground revealed that I must have missed. Immediately a sudden rush of relief came over me, but at the same time I felt a sense of disappointment for allowing a dangerous criminal to escape. A few moments later the patrol vehicle appeared around the street corner and pulled up next to me. My partner's smiling face greeted me, but it was the death stare from the cuffed individual in the back of the vehicle that got my attention. Wearing a red baseball jacket.
My partner informed me that the complainant was waiting for us at the station, having made her way back there on foot. I sighed in relief as we made our way back to the police station to book our catch, and brag about it amongst our fellow law enforcers. I unloaded the suspect at the station and accompanied him into the charge office. The woman was standing on the other side of the counter as I handed the man over to the charge office commander to be booked into the holding cells.
The woman stared at him, then covered her face in her hands, shaking her head from side to side. I immediately comforted her by assuring her that she is safe and that he won't be able to hurt her now. It was her reply that sent me over the edge.
"I am sorry," she said, "I made a mistake, this is not the man that robbed me!“
I had to run for the toilet, where I spent the next three minutes throwing up.
My partner had found a small bag of Marijuana in the inner pocket of the man's jacket which turned out to be the reason he took off when he saw me. As I took the cuffs off the man, putting him into the holding cell I noticed the small hole in the side of his red jacket, with a much larger exit hole on the other side...
The moral of my story? Life can turn on a dime, and often a decision made in the heat of the moment can change the entire course of your life. I might have missed that day, but it ended up changing the way I look at life and the decisions we make.
