‘Why I Carry’ (part 1)
Though I’ve always hunted and enjoyed target shooting, I was never and advocate of concealed carry. I was always worried about unstable “gun nuts” going postal in a…post office. That all changed in the early morning hours of February 13th, 2007.
On the night of the 12th, I was watching a movie with my family when I received a phone call from my producer at ABC News and Good Morning America in New York.
“Get to someplace called Trolley Square. There’s been a shooting.”
I quickly changed into my “out-all-night-in-the-freezing-cold” gear, kissed the kids good-bye, and drove into Salt Lake City.
Doing work as a field producer for ABC, I’d received calls like this many times. 24/7/365. You never know when the call will come in or what it will entail; kidnappings (I cried the day Elizabeth Smart was found), Father’s Day for families with deployed soldiers, one of the few times I felt TV really did something of value, or…spectacular murders.
By they time I got to Trolley Square, yellow tape and SWAT teams were everywhere. The details were trickling in.
I had names of witnesses and victims. My crew and I began the vulture work. Hanging out to find people who would talk about their pain on TV. I shuttled back and forth between Trolley Square and LDS Hospital.
Death watch.
By 1 or 2 am, the police were finishing debriefings of all the witnesses. They were held in the Hard Rock Café where one of the shooting victims had actually stumbled in and warned the patrons. As the witnesses left the door under the green awning of the café, a swarm of eager “reporters” and “journalists” waited to pounce–more reminiscent of a pack of hyenas on a gazelle than the vaunted Fourth Estate.
I cut out a group of people and rushed my camera operator and audio tech over to head them off. Two women from out of town at the mall to do some shopping—about 40. They held their children close—children about the same age as…my children. I asked them what happened. I only remember one thing said by this mother (not too different from my wife).
“I looked at my children and knew there was nothing I could do to save them. We were helpless.”
I looked at these scared, tired, sweet little children. I couldn’t think of another question. They were no different from my little kids. All I could see was my wife answering these inane questions; picture my wife terrified at the random, senseless violence about to rain down on our children. “We were helpless.” My family has been to Trolley Square countless, countless times. There was no reason that it should have been this family from out of town and not us.
I had to have my other producer finish. I walked over to the cold curb and sat down. After what seemed like a long time, I made a decision. I would never be in that position of not being able to protect my children. And…a CCW convert was born.
In the last two years, I’ve learned that getting a permit is really just the beginning.
