Please don't shoot my daddy

“Help me! Please help me.”

“He’s got my kids…And…Oh, God…He’s got a gun! Hel…” BOOM!

Silence.

“All units. Hostage situation. 212 Shady Lane. Weapons involved. Shots fired.”

Three cars. High speed parade.

Blue lights.

Sirens.

Sun behind trees.

Sharp, hairpin curves.

Shadows.

Leaves turning. Rain coming.

There, that’s the driveway.

Long dirt and gravel path.

Park single file.

Weapons drawn.

No cover.

Silence.

Me to the right. One to the left. One in the middle.

Thunder rumbles in distance.

Glass breaks.

A scream.

Front porch.

Door opens.

Three pistols aim.

Boy runs.

Crying.

“He’s got my sister and Mama. And he’s got a gun.”

SWAT. Call for backup.

Tear gas?

Dogs?

BOOM!

Screaming. Lot’s of screaming.

Wood splintering.

Thuds and thumps.

Struggle. Fighting. BOOM!

No time. Prepare to enter.

Place child in car.

Front door opens.

Man, wild-eyed. Shotgun.

Three voices. “Put down the gun! Put it down, now!”

Shotgun waving. Finger in trigger guard.

Three pistols pointed.

Squeezing.

Shotgun to chin.

Take chance.

Sneaking to side.

“I’ll kill myself!”

Closer.

One pleading. Begging. “Put down the gun.”

“I’m not going to jail!”

Woman crying. “Please, no…”

Sobbing.

Children crying. “No, Daddy. Please no.”

Closer.

“Nothing to live for.”

Still closer.

“I want to die.”

Shotgun swaying. Hands trembling.

“Go away.”

Tears.

“I’m taking them with me.”

Turns toward woman and child.

Points shotgun at woman.

Now.

Tackle.

Hit concrete hard.

Kick shotgun to yard.

Fighting.

Strong. Really strong.

Alcohol.

Eyes glassy.

Pupils tiny.

Cursing.

So strong.

Shirt torn.

Elbow bleeding.

Handcuffs click.

Growl like animal.

Still. Finally.

Methamphetamine almost took another one.

Possibly more.

Turn the page.

Another day’s coming.