Well, I'm turning in around 11:30 tonight, when I get a knock on the door. I say "just a sec" and put on some jeans, tuck my 1911 (8+1) into my pants and toss a shirt on, go over to the door in my motel room. I figure it's probably the clerk or something (doesn't occur to me that no one has any reason to come to my door at this time). Being the cautious type (read: Jeff Cooper's color codes -- Condition Yellow), I checked the peephole and there's someone I don't recognize and who doesn't work at the hotel: A short blond woman wearing a leather jacket.
"Who is it?"
"Julia."
Little did I know that Julia was going to take over the next hour and a half of my night.
"Sorry, I don't know any Julia. I think you've got the wrong room."
*Pause* She knocks again.
"Lady, you've got the wrong room! It's 11:30 at night!"
At this point, I've got the cell in one hand with 911 dialed, but haven't hit send. I've read about this type of setup before, and I say to myself "****, this is really going to go down tonight." I glance back through the peephole where I can see her standing, obviously nervous or high, as her hands are shaking. I decided that whether it was coke or adrenaline didn't really matter. (Condition Orange at this point.) Through the peephole on the left side of the door (the door is in the corner of the room, with a large window to the right), I caught a glimpse of something move. Yep, fears confirmed. (Condition Red)
She again knocks. I pull back from the door in case they're packing. Hand clenched on my 1911 now at my side, I hit send on my cell phone.
I issue a warning. "Lady, I advise you to leave immediately. I will have the police on the line in a few seconds."
On the other side of the door I hear "he's not going to open it" in a hushed tone. I guess cheap construction comes in handy sometimes. In a baritone voice, I hear "MOTHER ****ER YOU BETTER OPEN THIS G**D*** DOOR BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN!"
At this point, things went into another dimension. I felt like everything slowed down, but it was over in a matter of maybe 20 seconds. 10,000 things happened at once -- I double checked the peephole -- a crowbar in the guy's hand (thank you God it wasn't a gun).
"911, what is your emergency?"
"Large white male in jeans and dark hoodie with a crowbar, short female accomplice blond hair black leather jacket, unknown weapons at the _____ motel on _____ in _______, Kentucky. Send officers, there are going to be shots fired unless they cease their actions." I then hung up. Probably a mistake, in retrospect, but doesn't matter because it didn't affect the outcome much.
I pulled back the blinds a bit, and it caught them both off guard. They must have expected me to be behind the door, because when I popped up on their flank in the window, gun drawn, they must have known they were screwed.
"GET ON THE GROUND OR YOU'RE GETTING SHOT," I issued. The poor girl must have nearly wet herself, because she hit the ground HARD. Like, went down and busted her NOSE hard. The guy was a little more hesitant. He dropped the crowbar, but stayed standing, kinda deer in the headlights. He moved his hands up, but kept them by his side, close to his pocket on his hoodie. Not knowing if he had a gun in there, I aggressively moved toward the door and he very quickly moved his hands up above his head and started getting down on the sidewalk. I pulled the door open while keeping the gun trained on him and he got on all fours.
"This is your last warning. On the ground and spread eagle or I will end your life tonight."
He complied. By this time, some other lights and curtains were in various stages of being worked, and a couple guys on the balcony across from me were watching this go down. Sirens are near at this point.
That's when it dawned on me. I could see his mouth moving, but I never heard a word the guy said. I later found out from people watching that the guy was daring me to come closer so he could "cut my punk ass into ribbons," and that "I'd be dead if he had brought his brother's gat."
The police roll up and come out guns drawn. I lower my weapon, make it safe and place it in the grass (don't want to hurt the finish on my new carry gun), and step about 15 feet away from the two spread eagle on the sidewalk and raise my hands up. The two squad cars that arrive are almost in harmony. Two officers from one secure the villainous couple, while the other two secure me and my weapon. I am 100% compliant, don't say a word, and offer no resistance or reason to shoot me. Can't say the same for the two knuckleheads -- they're blaming each other before they're even in cuffs.
Once the dust settles and the officers begin field interrogation, I explain that I was the one to call 911, led them back to my room where my ID was (using the keycard in my pocket), showed them my valid DL & CCW, and give my version of what happened. After confirming my story with some of the other guests, the police turn me loose and write up a report with a statement from me and other witnesses. They ask if I have any connection with the two (no), how things went down, why I'm in town, what my business is, if I did anything that would have caused me to be targeted (flashing money or the like). By this time, we've got 5 cruisers, plus one supervisor on the scene.
After answering their questions and giving my full story, one of the officers was surprised he didn't have to call the coroner. He said I would have been 100% justified in ending both their lives. I told him that I much preferred this outcome, as I do not want to kill anyone, just protect myself and those around me. He remarked that it was noble, and said he wished more crimes played out like this one -- i.e. everyone goes away ALIVE. Another asked me about my PT1911 and remarked that it was a "sharp gun." I told him about how it shot and such, and we b.s.'d for a few minutes while the others were getting other witness statements and working the suspects for transport to booking. He remarked that "1911's don't have much magazine capacity," to which I responded "that's because they don't need it -- the size of the hole at the end of the barrel does a remarkable job of relieving even the WORST constipation." We all had a good laugh. God knows I needed one.
The white guy (we'll call him James), had a 4" folding blade on him, a screwdriver, the crowbar, and a magazine for a .25 auto. If that had been his brother's gun, I don't know if it would have even penetrated the steel door or thick double-paned windows. Still, would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of it at any rate.
So they're at central booking right now. Sargent (supervisor) that responded suggested to me that they were under the influence of something illegal. Most likely meth, he theorized, as it's kinda big up here. He said most people can't afford coke or crack, so that's the go-to pick-me-up for the underclasses.
I thanked the officers for their help. They thanked me for not having to use the chalk or toe tags tonight. As one of the officers closed the door on James, I overheard him say "you should probably think twice about resisting a guy packing a real man's pistol." I wonder if he reads Jeff Cooper...
Names and locations intentionally changed/obscured.
Edit: removed some "non-high-road" language.
"Who is it?"
"Julia."
Little did I know that Julia was going to take over the next hour and a half of my night.
"Sorry, I don't know any Julia. I think you've got the wrong room."
*Pause* She knocks again.
"Lady, you've got the wrong room! It's 11:30 at night!"
At this point, I've got the cell in one hand with 911 dialed, but haven't hit send. I've read about this type of setup before, and I say to myself "****, this is really going to go down tonight." I glance back through the peephole where I can see her standing, obviously nervous or high, as her hands are shaking. I decided that whether it was coke or adrenaline didn't really matter. (Condition Orange at this point.) Through the peephole on the left side of the door (the door is in the corner of the room, with a large window to the right), I caught a glimpse of something move. Yep, fears confirmed. (Condition Red)
She again knocks. I pull back from the door in case they're packing. Hand clenched on my 1911 now at my side, I hit send on my cell phone.
I issue a warning. "Lady, I advise you to leave immediately. I will have the police on the line in a few seconds."
On the other side of the door I hear "he's not going to open it" in a hushed tone. I guess cheap construction comes in handy sometimes. In a baritone voice, I hear "MOTHER ****ER YOU BETTER OPEN THIS G**D*** DOOR BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN!"
At this point, things went into another dimension. I felt like everything slowed down, but it was over in a matter of maybe 20 seconds. 10,000 things happened at once -- I double checked the peephole -- a crowbar in the guy's hand (thank you God it wasn't a gun).
"911, what is your emergency?"
"Large white male in jeans and dark hoodie with a crowbar, short female accomplice blond hair black leather jacket, unknown weapons at the _____ motel on _____ in _______, Kentucky. Send officers, there are going to be shots fired unless they cease their actions." I then hung up. Probably a mistake, in retrospect, but doesn't matter because it didn't affect the outcome much.
I pulled back the blinds a bit, and it caught them both off guard. They must have expected me to be behind the door, because when I popped up on their flank in the window, gun drawn, they must have known they were screwed.
"GET ON THE GROUND OR YOU'RE GETTING SHOT," I issued. The poor girl must have nearly wet herself, because she hit the ground HARD. Like, went down and busted her NOSE hard. The guy was a little more hesitant. He dropped the crowbar, but stayed standing, kinda deer in the headlights. He moved his hands up, but kept them by his side, close to his pocket on his hoodie. Not knowing if he had a gun in there, I aggressively moved toward the door and he very quickly moved his hands up above his head and started getting down on the sidewalk. I pulled the door open while keeping the gun trained on him and he got on all fours.
"This is your last warning. On the ground and spread eagle or I will end your life tonight."
He complied. By this time, some other lights and curtains were in various stages of being worked, and a couple guys on the balcony across from me were watching this go down. Sirens are near at this point.
That's when it dawned on me. I could see his mouth moving, but I never heard a word the guy said. I later found out from people watching that the guy was daring me to come closer so he could "cut my punk ass into ribbons," and that "I'd be dead if he had brought his brother's gat."
The police roll up and come out guns drawn. I lower my weapon, make it safe and place it in the grass (don't want to hurt the finish on my new carry gun), and step about 15 feet away from the two spread eagle on the sidewalk and raise my hands up. The two squad cars that arrive are almost in harmony. Two officers from one secure the villainous couple, while the other two secure me and my weapon. I am 100% compliant, don't say a word, and offer no resistance or reason to shoot me. Can't say the same for the two knuckleheads -- they're blaming each other before they're even in cuffs.
Once the dust settles and the officers begin field interrogation, I explain that I was the one to call 911, led them back to my room where my ID was (using the keycard in my pocket), showed them my valid DL & CCW, and give my version of what happened. After confirming my story with some of the other guests, the police turn me loose and write up a report with a statement from me and other witnesses. They ask if I have any connection with the two (no), how things went down, why I'm in town, what my business is, if I did anything that would have caused me to be targeted (flashing money or the like). By this time, we've got 5 cruisers, plus one supervisor on the scene.
After answering their questions and giving my full story, one of the officers was surprised he didn't have to call the coroner. He said I would have been 100% justified in ending both their lives. I told him that I much preferred this outcome, as I do not want to kill anyone, just protect myself and those around me. He remarked that it was noble, and said he wished more crimes played out like this one -- i.e. everyone goes away ALIVE. Another asked me about my PT1911 and remarked that it was a "sharp gun." I told him about how it shot and such, and we b.s.'d for a few minutes while the others were getting other witness statements and working the suspects for transport to booking. He remarked that "1911's don't have much magazine capacity," to which I responded "that's because they don't need it -- the size of the hole at the end of the barrel does a remarkable job of relieving even the WORST constipation." We all had a good laugh. God knows I needed one.
The white guy (we'll call him James), had a 4" folding blade on him, a screwdriver, the crowbar, and a magazine for a .25 auto. If that had been his brother's gun, I don't know if it would have even penetrated the steel door or thick double-paned windows. Still, would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of it at any rate.
So they're at central booking right now. Sargent (supervisor) that responded suggested to me that they were under the influence of something illegal. Most likely meth, he theorized, as it's kinda big up here. He said most people can't afford coke or crack, so that's the go-to pick-me-up for the underclasses.
I thanked the officers for their help. They thanked me for not having to use the chalk or toe tags tonight. As one of the officers closed the door on James, I overheard him say "you should probably think twice about resisting a guy packing a real man's pistol." I wonder if he reads Jeff Cooper...
Names and locations intentionally changed/obscured.
Edit: removed some "non-high-road" language.
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