Pulling the Trigger** _**By Chris Wainscott**_ _There's a very simple reason I'm not a big fan of using guns. I really don't know anything about them. But, since you_ do _, I guess I'll have to learn._ When the phone call came in early one Saturday morning, I just about fell out of my chair. It was none other than my good buddy Jett, who happens to be the director of the National Shooting Sports Foundation (NSSF). His son, Jason, happened to be in town on a job interview at a local gun store and told his father he'd met someone interesting. Jett was all over that because, as the father of four children, he has spent his adult life trying to ensure that no one in his family is ever involved with firearms. I'm sure you have met parents who would like nothing more than to be able to tell their children to stay away from guns. This is precisely the type of parent Jett is, and while I wasn't surprised that he was concerned about what his son's interviewer was telling him, I'm not sure I've ever seen him so excited. As he continued talking, I tried my best to listen, but I'm embarrassed to say that my mind was more on the first date I had that night than it was on whatever Jett was telling me. My next call was to one of my customers, who happens to have two daughters, ages fourteen and eighteen. When I asked them if they were planning on going to lunch that day, they looked at me like I was nuts. "Dad," the oldest said, "do you have any idea what the murder rate is in this city?" "Not really," I said. "Why do you ask?" "Because," she said, "we're skipping lunch today." That night, when we got to bed, Jett and I had the same idea. A murder is a crime of passion, something in the moment, right? If a murder can happen because someone's in a bad mood, what is it that changes when you carry a gun? It was not easy to keep Jett on the phone that Saturday night. He was an absolute hoot and, even though I kept putting him off, he kept calling back. He was having so much fun I had to put a stop to it. His glee was contagious, though. I'd been feeling pretty blue since I'd bought the gun, but the only thing that made me smile that night was the thought that Jett might get out of bed in the morning and hear that someone else had gotten his new product. Before hanging up with Jett, I realized it might be worth talking to a cop about the fact that my life was so much better with a gun. I called a buddy of mine who is the chief of police in my little town. We began chatting about the weather. I tried to find out his opinion on some issues that are close to my heart—such as background checks and waiting periods. He really was a good sport about it all and we did talk for a while. But I could see he was so impressed with my new little piece of gear that he was having trouble focusing. After a few more minutes of making the same statement over and over again, I knew there was no way he was going to remember anything else I said. I thanked him for his time and hung up the phone. As I sat there, I couldn't help thinking that I might have had a lot of fun making my son's father jealous, but this was a whole new ball game. No one had ever wanted to make him jealous before. As a small-business owner, I can tell you that when you do something, it's usually because you want to do it. With guns, it's even more apparent that, unlike the local supermarket or bakery, if you don't use one you can get in big trouble with the law. The law is going to tell you all sorts of things about the law. If you're a normal guy like me, it's going to get pretty confusing. The law says that you have a right to bear arms. But, if you really wanted to know, the first thing the law will say is that you have to be a citizen of this country. Well, I guess I have a very easy question for them. Just who is a citizen? You can be a citizen of the United States, but is that enough? I'm pretty sure my wife has more rights than that. She's certainly more of a citizen than I am. The law says that you have the right to protect yourself and your family. Maybe I do have that right, but why do I want to? In our home, we don't need more than two guns. The kids are so afraid of them that they try to throw them out the window when we take them to the gun store for repairs. Can you blame them? The guy with a gun is supposed to be the bad guy. The law says that you are allowed to keep and use your guns. When you buy a gun, you are also supposed to keep up with the "maintenance" you have to do to make it work. Is that true? Just what is maintenance? I ask my son-in-law's advice when I have problems with my trucks or my wife's car, and he always tells me what I need to do. He tells me what I should be worried about and what I should just let go. He told me that's what maintenance is for. How does anyone know if they have maintenance? I know mine are old and some of them have been through a lot of hardships. I'm not sure my son-in-law would know what to do with them if I didn't want to keep them in shape. I guess I'll just have to give him a call. As I was sitting there trying to figure out all these questions, my friend Jett called me up again. He was having so much fun with this, the more he could convince me to talk about the issues surrounding guns, the more time he could spend on the phone. You'll be happy to know that it wasn't long before we had our first problem. We were still on the phone when we heard the sound of glass breaking. At first, we couldn't tell where the sound had come from, but before too long we heard another noise. This time, I recognized it. _Bang!_ Someone was firing a gun. The next thing I knew, a policeman was talking into the phone, informing me that I had been shot at. He told me that he had no idea how many people had been hurt and that it was best that I call him from the station in the morning. At least I would know more about the situation after I gave him a full report. I went to bed that night a little unsure about where all this was leading. Maybe it had been a mistake to take that call and tell the cop about the conversation he'd had with Jett. I thought about calling Jett back. There were just too many things to think about. For me, it would be better if I could just wait and see. I mean, everyone else seemed to have a plan, and as far as I was concerned, I had my hands full with my business and my kids. I didn't want to add anything more to my plate that would make it even harder to think straight. But it didn't take long before I realized that was just one more reason why there was only one thing I could do—pull the trigger. The phone call from Jett came at ten o'clock on Monday morning. I didn't think that anyone could have told me more about guns than Jett. But as he began talking, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The police were telling us that the two guys who had shot at me hadn't been trying to kill me. They had just wanted to give me a scare. Apparently, they'd had a good laugh when they shot at us. I listened as Jett talked about how serious a problem shooting could be in America. "We have to make the cops realize that this is a big problem," Jett said. "These kids aren't coming from the ghetto; they're coming from our neighborhood, where the cops are in constant contact with kids." Jett said that he was going to let me do all the talking this time. He said that, when he called me, he would just have to sit back and listen as his protégé, J. R., gave me the full story about a local gun dealer. We arranged a time for Jett to come in for lunch that day. I called J. R. and explained the situation to him. "Why don't you come on in? I want you to sit down and see how your product works." When J. R. walked into my office, he brought with him one of the new guns I had. "Try it," I said. J. R. pulled out the gun and spun it around to his front. He handed it to me. "What's up with that?" he said. "We just got this back in stock from the factory." I handed the gun back to him and said, "Jett says there's a problem out there, so it's probably better if you don't point this in anyone's direction." "Well, that was dumb," he said. He asked me if I had any scissors, and