Hell in a Handbasket

Other than that, it is just a matter of keeping your home defense firearm and a charged cell phone with you wherever you go. Yes, even take them with you into the bathroom. Remember that you will only have seconds to react, too short a time to go hunting for what you need when they finally make their move.

Of course, this is tough to do. Day after day, week after month, year after year, even decade after decade, nothing will happen! Few people have the mental discipline to keep hauling guns and cell phones along with them every single time they get up from watching TV to use the head or get a snack. Added to this is the fact that all burglaries are on the wane in the United States, and home invasion as a subset seems to be particularly unpopular amongst members of the criminal persuasion. It won't take long before someone starts to second guess their decisions and decide that such vigilance is a waste of time. I mean, the odds of becoming a victim to this particular crime are very remote, and falling every year. Who would bother with this routine?

Mainly people who have been victims of this particular crime in the past.

I received a call from one of my former students a few months ago, someone who suffers from limited mobility. It had been awhile since we had spoken, six years, and I had to look them up in my records to jog my memory. They had a tale to tell.

They were watching TV some early evening, just a few hours after sunset, when they heard glass breaking in the kitchen. Some guy walked around the corner into the living room less than five seconds later, carrying the victim's best serrated bread knife at high port. He stopped in his tracks when he saw my student pointing a gun at his chest.

The criminal was a professional in his own way. He didn't say anything, didn't argue or raise a fuss. Instead he just dropped the knife and lay down face first on the carpet. My student picked up the cell phone they had next to their chair and dialed the police. They didn't even have to get up to get the trash taken out.

It was at this point in the story that my student became a little emotional, probably because memories were intruding of how things didn't go as smoothly the last time someone broke in while they were at home. They teared up a little and started to cry. It was a bad time for student/instructor harmony because I started to giggle at exactly the same time.

I mean, c'mon! No one got hurt, even the perp, and he is off the streets and away from innocent victims for another stretch of years. My delight just bubbled over, and it took some time for me to convince my student that I wasn't laughing at them.

So a former student managed to avoid a potentially devastating crime by following most of my suggestions, but they admitted that there was still room for improvement. The next day they had a deadbolt lock installed on the back door, the kind that can only be opened by a key.