Today I was placed in a position where I was forced to draw a firearm defensively. No shots were fired, nobody was injured, but i believed myself to be in danger and producing a pistol solved the problem.
And before anyone says anything, the incident has been reported to the sheriff's department. Without too much legal jargon, basically the deputy who took the report said that there was not much the department could do. So I gave a report, the incident was filed, and that's pretty much the end of it. Hooray.
So here's the story.
I took my dog for a walk on a trail outside of town. This trail is a frequent place for people to walk their dogs, jog, bike, as well as being a gateway into the wilderness area. The trailhead is about two miles outside of town on a dirt road, but the road is nice and soccer moms in their minivans are common sights.
The trailhead itself is in a kind if tight spot at the very end of the road. In my truck i can turn around in five points. A smaller car might make three. But just down the road about two hundred yards is a nice wide spot where log truck drivers used to turn around.
So I'm driving down the road and get to the big turnaround, and I saw some taillights up ahead in the right spot. Rather than try to maneuver around the car up there, i parked in the wide spot. No big deal. So i let the dog out, grab the leash and shove a S&W Shield 9 in my waistband at 4 o'clock. Then we set off up the road to the trail.
At the trail head, there is a car parked there. It was a black Mercedes-Benz of some flavor, with no rear plate. The front was parked in a bush, and since i wasn't worried about it then I didn't feel the need to push through the thick bushes to look for front plates.
On the trail I found two sets of very fresh footprints and figured that was whoever drove the car. About ten yards down the trail splits. To the left it crosses the creek over a nice bridge and parallels the water on the west bank. The right side follows the creek on the other side, crossing about three hundred yards downstream. Right after, the two trails merge before splitting again in around twenty yards. The tracks were on the right trail, so i took the left. You can't see the other side of the creek through the brush, so I didn't know where the other folks were.
We get to where the two trails merge and i heard voices up ahead. I preemptively put my dog on the leash just because she has a tendency to run and jump on people, and a seventy pound Labrador isn't fun to have flying at you.
We got a little farther forward, almost to where the trail splits up again and the dog raised her hackles and started to growl. Normally she's pretty friendly, so for her to act this way put me on edge. The brush on both sides of the trail at this point limits visibility to about ten feet to each side, and maybe thirty on the trail.
We rounded the bend to where the trail splits again. The trail splits five ways right there, and the intersection is about forty feet across. standing at the entrance to one of these trails we come across two men, and they check every box for "wannabe gangster." Wife-beater shirts, face and neck tattoos, saggy pants, flat brim hat, the works, and they both had plastic buggies and what looked like glass pipes in their hands. It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on, and in was in the process of turning to leave when one of them saw me. Instead of turning around then, I started to come forward, waving and pretending to not see what they had. Both of them hurried to shove their "accessories" into their pockets, then one pulled up the hem of his shirt and I saw the grip of a Glock shoved into his pants.
At this point i was in the clearing, clearly signaling my intention to turn onto a trail to my left. There was about 10 feet of bushes between where the trail I was on came into the intersection and where the trail i wanted came in.
Before in could get out all the way, the one without the gun said to stop. I did so, and my dog put herself between us, growling. There was a moment where there wasn't any talking, and i drew my gun. I was standing in such a way that the gun would be hidden by my body, but it was in my hand now, because i didn't like the way things had just gone . I also made my draw stroke part of a backscratch, so it was less suspect. That's just a tactic I've worked on "just in case it might come in handy".
As i finished drawing my gun and let my arm come to rest behind me, the one with the gun told me to get out of the area or he would "kick yo' blanky blank blank". The other one added some expletives about my dog, who was between us and growling still.
In the interest of deescalating the situation, I calmly told them that I was going, but I was going to take the trail to my immediate left instead of the one I had come in on. My reasoning for this was tactical, and came from a knowledge of the area. First, I didn't trust them not to follow me. After all, I had seen them doing illegal things and that trail would have me going right back past their car (and , likely a front license plate to report to the sheriff). This trail i wanted to take would loop back around and run right past my truck, while offering many deer trails and piles of rock to use as concealment and cover, should that become necessary.
I started inching to my left, around the edge of a bramble bush and called my dog to follow ( she was still braced at the end of the leash with her hackles up and growling). I took my eyes off them to look at the dog, and the one started to pull his gun. What his true intentions were I don't know. But I whipped the Shield around from behind Me and brought it to line just as his Glock was out and coming up. I unconsciously shouted "stop" which i guess confused him or something because he froze. I was literally ounces away from the trigger breaking in the Shield. I told him to drop the gun and get on the ground or I would shoot(it wasn't G-rated, either).
They both turned and ran up one of the trails on the other side of the intersection, and were out of sight in a barely a second. I don't know how far they went, but i didn't stick around. I took off down the trail toward my truck at a sprint, running perhaps two hundred yards before leaving the trail and going through the woods and brush on a deer trail I know. I kept going until I could see my truck, waiting in the brush for almost ten minutes before venturing out. Then I got in and burned rubber to where I could get cell reception (there's no service along the trail because of topography.). Then I called the sheriff's office and talked to a deputy about it. He happened to be in the area, so he came up and checked the trailhead. He said the vehicle was gone, which means they left before i got to my truck, but he called it in to highway patrol to be on the lookout. I gave a statement, and he said that because I didn't have a license plate, or useful description(more on that in a minute), there wasn't much they could do. I guess there are a lot of black Mercedes sedans in the area. So they have my phone number, and may follow up if something comes up, but the deputy told me not to hold my breath. He said the ordeal is over, I was in the right, if i see them in town to call 911. He also asked to see my Shield because he was thinking about buying one himself.
While i was waiting i the bushes to get to my truck, I went through the entire thing again in my mind and I realized that I don't actually remember many of the minor details. I remember broad things and landmark events ( like the one guy pulling the gun i recall clearly), but little things like identifying tattoos or what color their shoes were are not there. Some random details are very clear to me, like the bush I was standing by had little blue flowers that were beginning to fall off, and that the raven in the tree over the creek was doing that weird knocking sound they do. But when the deputy asked what color the two's hair was, or what the tattoos on their faces were I was totally at a loss. I guess I was more worried about getting out of the situation than what their ink was. Tunnel vision.
So, i don't know what there is to take from this, other than always be vigilant.
Involved in a DGU, no shots
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