jmra wrote:Embalmo wrote:An LCP is only a bad choice if it stays in your pocket at the range.
My wife has a LCP (I know what the C stands for). I hate that thing. When I reach in the safe for a carry weapon I typically grab something with a G in front of it.
Little
Cootie
Popper?
dwsintxs, your story reminds me of one I've told here before but from a different angle. I used to work in an ER years ago in a trauma center in the greater Los Angeles area. We received 2 gunshot patients one night from the following situation. . . .
Two guys walk into Gerlach's Liquor Store at the corner of Fair Oaks and Glenarm in Pasadena, right down the street from my ER. One of them is waving a .38 snubbie around and demanding all the cash. The clerk behind the counter pops the register drawer open, and while their attention is drawn to that, he reaches a little further down and comes up with a double stack 9mm full of hardball. Advantage: the clerk.
The robbers hesitate, the clerk does not. He starts firing immediately, and they never get a shot off. One of them gets hit twice, one bullet breaking his right humerus bone, and the other going through and through his chest, right through the right ventricle of his heart. . . .which, miraculously for him, does not kill him.
The other bad guy puts his crossed forearms up in front of his face to ward off the evil bullets, and one bullet smashes through his forearms, breaking both of them, and hits his left pectoral muscle, destroying his nipple and stopping up against his rib.
There follows a general wailing and gnashing of teeth and "poor me's" as the clerk most thoughtfully calls PPD to assist the gentlemen who are now gracing the floor of his establishment with a growing puddle of their own blood. There is a great deal of righteous amusement on the part of PPD when they arrive, and a lot of hail fellow well-met backslapping of the clerk, before the two aggrieved would-be robbers are scooped up and whisked to our ER for treatment.
I worked on both patients, helping to remove the bullet from the one's pectoral muscle which was entered into evidence, after having prepped the other one for surgery to repair a cardiac tamponade. . . .which had ironically saved his life long enough to get him to the ER, but would have ultimately killed him without surgery.
I remember one of the PPD officers who was a friend of mine wanting to get a "death bed statement" from the one guy as we were prepping him for surgery. The ER doc told him "no, you can't do that; if you tell him he's dying, he just
might." My friend shrugged and said, "and that's a problem exactly
why?" But no dying statement was taken, and the perp did survive. One of the finest cardiac surgeons in the world repaired his heart, while one of our ortho residents repaired his broken humerus. Cost to the taxpayers was considerably more than sum total of all the good these two losers had done in their lives up to this point.
The guy with the broken forearms and missing nipple was transported to the jail ward of L.A. County General Hospital that night, and the guy with the broken heart was transported there a few days later. A few months later, I asked my cop friend. . . .the one who wanted to get a dying statement from the perp. . . .what had ever happened to those two robbers. He told me that they had been both released from jail without charges about a week or two after the incident. Perhaps the powers that be at L.A. County Jail or the prosecutor's office figured that these two had learned a lesson they would not soon forget. My friend and I agreed that the lesson learned wasn't what the prosecutor thought it would be; that perhaps what they had learned was to bring more firepower the next time and to shoot first.
Perhaps the moral of the story should be "never rob a liquor store that has been robbed so many times that they're mad has hades and they're not going to take it any more". I can't criticize the clerk's actions. He was obviously prepared, both mentally and materially, to thwart the robbers, and it obviously worked out well for him. He became a sort of local hero among local cops, Gerlach's Liquor Store being one of the places they bought their after-shift beer from. On the other hand, his is an isolated case. I don't think
most people would be either as well trained as he was or as mentally prepared. He did not hesitate, and he went straight for center of mass on both perps. It was over in seconds. He obviously was an accurate shooter, and he had already made up his mind not to hesitate, long before these two jaybirds ever entered his store. I honestly don't know if he was a part owner, or just a loyal employee, and I don't know if he was combat veteran, or just a civilian student of the gun, or just extraordinarily lucky.
The main thing I remember, other than the details of what is a pretty good story, is that in the end, the wheels of justice did not turn. These two guys should have gone to prison, and instead, they did not. Justice was not formally served. So I take some satisfaction from knowing up close and personal how much pain and suffering they endured. Maybe they got off legally, but
LIFE can be a harsh mistress, and she certainly extracted her pound of flesh from those two losers on that night.