Last night, being a creature of habit, I plopped down on the sofa and
grabbed the universal remote control (a true modern marvel) and
snatched Fox News down from the trusty 'ol satellite.
As expected, the story of Samantha Runnion's kidnapping/murder
began to unfold, revealing the details of the horrible nature in which
she had suffered and ultimately died. I was overwhelmed with disgust,
concern, sadness and most of all, fury.
As I was watching, I became unaware of my immediate surroundings,
including the fact that my 5 year old daughter had walked into the
room dressed in her favorite Princess Barbie ball gown costume, complete
with clear plastic slippers garnished in a rainbow of gaudy rhinestones.
She stood in silence, and watched the segment in it's entirety (my bad).
At the commercial break, I heard my daughter say from behind, "daddy,
is the kidnapper going to get me too?" I felt sick as I sank to one of the lowest
points in my life. My little angel, who is typically consumed with issues such
as which stuffed animal she should sleep with or which dress she should wear
on any given day, was now aware, although without understanding, that true
evil exists and children are most vulnerable.
I'd did my level best to explain what happened to Samantha in terms that
my daughter could understand, leaving out the graphic details of the sexual
assault and the manner in which she was killed. "Why did someone want to
choke that little girl", she asked while holding both of her tiny hands around
her dainty neck. I almost broke down. Feeling put on the spot, all I could say
was that it was a very confused person who liked being mean; at the same time
thinking that I'd like to get my hands around the throat of the scumbag piece
of shit that did this and put him in the grave myself.
My explanation of this "incident" and lecture on strangers seemed to pacify her
curiosity and calm her fears, or so I thought. My daughter climbed in bed with
this morning, and instead of her usual "good morning, I love you daddy", she
woke me and asked "can the kidnapper get into our house or come to our
neighborhood". Once again, I assured her of her safety, tucked her in and kissed
her on the forehead. I climbed out of bed, went into my den and cried like a baby
(don't tell anybody). The awareness of "evil" had found it's way into my
daughter's life, years before I would have ever expected it.
I started shooting at the ripe old age of 7 (I'll be 40 next month) and have been in
love with firearms ever since. I did four years in the US Navy as a Gunners Mate
specializing in small arms training. Like many of you, I've spend a small
fortune on formal firearms training (3 classes per year average) at various facilities
and only God knows how much on firearms, the never ending supply of ammo
and those gotta have accessories, but nothing could possibly prepare me mentally
or physically for the experience of having one of my children sexually assaulted
and /or murdered.
Of all of the SHTF scenarios that I read about on the various threads, as a parent,
I can't image any situation worst than loosing a child.