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The time “my biggest fan” showed up at my house.
One day, I was in the back yard with my three children when a man showed up at my house, blocking my driveway with his car.
He began walking down my long driveway, and the kids were the first to notice.
“Mom,” my oldest daughter said. “There’s a guy coming up behind you.”
I wheeled around to see a man in white shoes, wearing a gun holster.
“I’m your biggest fan,” he told me. “And I’ve driven thousands of miles to see you.”
My heart sank. My husband was working about an hour away, so I tried to stall by asking him questions. He seemed, legitimately, to be just overly enthusiastic. But my blood turned to ice when he looked at each of my children, called them by name, and asked about their specific school activities.
“How’s girl scouts, Camille?” he said.
Then, he turned to my son. “Are you still shooting trap?”
“Hello, Naomi,” he said looking at my youngest.
“Well, my husband’s not here,” I said, “So you better be going.”
“I can wait,” he said. “I’ve driven all this way to see you. I thought maybe I could just stay for a while.”
“How far?” I asked.
“Fifteen hundred miles.”
Unbeknownst to me, earlier that day, the secretary at my kids’ school reported seeing this man’s car driving suspiciously slow around the buildings. He seemed to be scoping out the place.
“No,” I said. “I think it would be best for you to leave.”
“I was hoping to stay for the evening,” he said.
I had guns inside my house — many, since my husband likes to collect them — but I had nothing on me at the time. I never carry a weapon. Why should I? Until that moment, I’d never considered it.
I scooped up my youngest daughter, handed her to my oldest, and whispered, “Call the neighbors.” (In the rural south, it would take the police quite a while to make their way out to the country.) Two neighbors showed up almost immediately and escorted him off my property.
I knew then I needed to learn how to use a gun confidently, but I still didn’t do anything to make that happen.