10 January 2013

Just something I thought you might like

“They came after my children,” she told me. “They came into my home and took my children.”

“Why?” I asked, my heart in my throat. “Why, for God's sake, would they take your children?” This woman, with her well groomed appearance and prim posture, had no signs of an abusive parent, or even a neglectful parent. Her statement seemed mad, ludicrous, absurd. There was no logical reason given this woman's appearance and overall manner that stated she was unstable in any way. Her answer shocked me.

“Because I own a gun. A year ago, my house was broken in to. We had an alarm system, they disabled it. We had a dog, which they killed. They came into my room and killed my husband right in front of me. The police caught them eventually, but I saw fit to purchase a gun.”

“How, my dear woman, did you manage to get a gun? With all the regulations, that task is almost impossible.”

“My husband was a powerful man. He had connections. It was legal, I assure you. All the papers were signed, all the arrangements made. They put me on three registration lists, I had to go through a rigorous psychiatric exam. They knew I had a gun. It was small. I carried it in my purse to protect myself and my children.”

“And they took your children? What logical decision might have gone through their minds?”

“I taught my children how to protect themselves. They didn't use my gun, we went out and got them paintball guns, but I taught them how to shoot accurately.”

“Paintball isn't illegal. Many of my friends take their kids to the paintball range.”

“I understand that. It's what my oldest son did. That must be it.”

“Tell me about your oldest son.”

“He moved out of the house several months before his father died. He wasn't there. I haven't seen him in many many months.”

“And what did he do?”

“He illegally purchased a large supply of assault weapons and formed a militia.”

“But militias are illegal.”

“I know that, you know that, but my son... he followed the philosophy of his father. He believed in that... that thing... that ancient and antiquated document that they've long since amended into nonexistence – much like the British royalty.”

“The Constitution?”

She eyed that particular spot on her wrist. The one we all had. The one where they placed the tracking device when we all turned eight. “You said it,” she whispered, “not me. But yes, my husband and son believed in that thing.”

“And you still managed to get a gun?”

“I have never followed the beliefs of my husband. Besides, that was included in the extensive tests when I registered.”

“And they still took your children away.” It was not a question.


“Did they explain?”


“Who was it exactly that took your children?”

“The same people that killed my husband.”

“What? Who was that?”

“The government.”

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