FROM MOUNTAIN MEDIA
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE DATED DEC. 5, 1999
THE LIBERTARIAN, By Vin Suprynowicz
But no honest citizen needs a gun … right?

One of the staple mantras of the gun grabbers — we’re not supposed to
think about it (since statistics show it’s 99 percent wrong), just chant it
until is lulls us into a feeling of sweet repose — is that “If you own a
firearm you’re just as likely to have it taken away and used against you.”

Right?

I guess that’s why I took so quickly to a new book which Floyd Coons at
Master Shooters Supply handed me the other day. “The Best Defense: True
Stories of Intended Victims Who Defended Themselves With a Firearm,” is by
Robert A. Waters, a retired vocational rehabilitation counselor from Ocala
Florida ($14.95 from Cumberland House, 431 Harding Industrial Drive,
Nashville 37211.)

I defy anyone to dismiss these 14 harrowing, true-life accounts, often
told in the words of the very crime victims who survived their ordeals due
to one common factor: The fact that in America, we have a right to bear
arms.

Take the case of 49-year-old divorcee Sammie Foust of Cape Coral, Fla. “I
used to love to open the windows and doors and feel the gulf breezes
flowing through my house,” Ms. Foust told interviewer Waters. “I got
pleasure from watching sailboats pass by in the canal behind my home. Now I
sit in a closed-up room. I’m even afraid to answer the door.”

Foust had fallen asleep cleaning house on the evening of May 9, 1996.
The bed where she lay was piled with bags of old clothing she’d decided to
give away, along with old purses and boxes of odds and ends.

In her housecleaning, she’d also come across a tiny .25 caliber
semiautomatic handgun a friend had long ago insisted she take for
self-defense, though Sammie’s father had warned her it was too small,
advising: “Get a bigger gun. Wounded dogs will bite you. Dead dogs don’t
bite.”

The magazine of the .25 held four rounds. She’d checked it the night
before, snapped the little slide to chamber the top round, and then fallen
asleep with the little gun next to her pile of pillows.

When she heard the blinds rattle in the living room at dawn, she assumed
it was her cat returning. But it wasn’t. It was three-time prison inmate
James Wayne Horne, who had been released for the third time only a few
weeks before, after serving slightly more than one year of a 10-year
sentence for aggravated assault.

The robber-assailant rushed into the bedroom and slashed Foust’s face
with a box-cutter knife.

She offered him her purse, which he dumped on the bed, finding $400 in
bills. He then demanded Foust tell him the location of her jewelry box,
which she did. But the man was upset with the cheap quality of the costume
jewelry, returning to demand “her diamonds” and to continue viciously
slashing and beating her about the face.

“You know I’m going to kill you,” he hissed. “So you might as well give
it up. Die easy or die hard, bitch.”

Foust directed the man to a second credenza. She knew it contained only
more costume jewelry, but she needed space and time. Time to pick up the
little .25, which she was amazed her assailant had not spotted … and to
figure out what to do with it.

You see, Sammie Foust had never fired a gun in her life.

She aimed for the man’s center of mass and pulled the trigger. It sounded
like a little cap pistol. There was no recoil, no blood. The man did not
fly backwards or keel over dead. She figured the gun had misfired.

But she’d certainly managed to upset James Wayne Horne, who flew back
across the room, punching her square in the face. “She literally heard her
nose implode back into her skull,” Waters reports.

“(start ital)Dear God,(end ital) she prayed, (start ital)don’t let me
pass out. Dear God, please let me hold onto this gun.(end ital)”

The assailant pulled her to her feet, grabbed her wrist, and tried to
wrench the gun away her with one hand while pummelling her with jackhammer
blows to the face with his other fist. Police later told her James Wayne
Horne had knocked out four of her teeth, which she’d swallowed. The bones
in her gums were crushed, and her left cheekbone was fractured. Her nose
was broken and her larynx fractured. Horne pounded and slashed at her face
with his knife until one eyeball was hanging out of its socket.

But he did not get the gun.

Assuming her first two shots had missed, Foust resolved to save her two
remaining cartridges until she had a clear shot. Finally, as the man drew
back his arm for a knockout punch, she pointed the .25 at his stomach and
fired again.

“Bitch!” he whispered, as he dragged her into the living room and
continued beating her. “”Now I’m gonna take that gun and blow your brains
out!”

Instead, Foust shot Horne a fourth time, in the abdomen.

With the man atop her, pounding and pounding, Sammie Foust believed she
could not survive. But finally, James Wayne Horne lay still.

When police arrived, they found tables knocked over, chairs broken,
dishes shattered, the walls and floors smeared with blood.

They found James Wayne Horne where she had left him. The medical examiner
concluded the first shot had entered his mouth, the second his heart, the
third and fourth bullets his abdomen and groin. He had taken nearly an hour
to bleed to death.

Sammie Foust noticed the police and ambulance personnel wincing whenever
they looked at her, cursing her attacker under their breath. When she
finally found a mirror, she realized why. Her eye was surgically reattached
that day, and permanent loss of sight was minimal. She has since run out of
funds to pay for the proper repair of her gums and teeth. To this day, she
eats only soft food.

As an afterthought, as they hauled James Wayne Horne’s body away, Sammie
Foust pulled her hand from her pocket and asked a police interviewer:
“Would you like to have this?”

Foust recalled for author Waters: “A policeman came back and knelt down
on the driveway. He tried to pry my fingers from the gun. And he started
crying and said ‘I’m gonna break your fingers. I can’t get them loose.’ But
I couldn’t let go of the handle. My knuckles were swollen up, I was holding
it so tight. The grip I had on that gun was what kept my attacker from
getting it from me. Even as big a man as he was, he couldn’t take it away.”

And here I thought people like Sammie Foust would be better off if we
banned all handguns. Because if she had a handgun, you see, it would just
as likely be taken away and used against her.

Right?

Vin Suprynowicz is assistant editorial page editor of the Las Vegas
Review-Journal. His new book, “Send in the Waco Killers,” is available at
1-800-244-2224.

***

Vin Suprynowicz, vin@lvrj[email protected]

“The evils of tyranny are rarely seen but by him who resists it.” — John
Hay, 1872

“The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed — and
thus clamorous to be led to safety — by menacing it with an endless series
of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.” — H.L. Mencken

* * *

——————————————————————————-
If you have subscribed to [email protected] and you wish to unsubscribe,
send a message to [email protected], from your OLD address, including
the word “unsubscribe” (with no quotation marks) in the “Subject” line.

To subscribe, send a message to [email protected], from your
NEW address, including the word “subscribe” (with no quotation marks)
in the “Subject” line.

All I ask of electronic subscribers is that they not RE-forward my columns
until on or after the embargo date which appears at the top of each, and
that (should they then choose to do so) they copy the columns in their
entirety, preserving the original attribution.

The Vinsends list is maintained by Alan Wendt in Colorado, who may be
reached directly at [email protected] The web sites for the Suprynowicz
column are at http://www.infomagic.com/liberty/vinyard.htm, and
http://www.nguworld.com/vindex. The Vinyard is maintained by Michael Voth
in Flagstaff, who may be reached directly at [email protected]