My cousin shot my dad in 1997, the first thing he said after my dad died was “my life is officially over.”

My dad was a good man, everyone loved him. He was a dad to many. He was an engineer with a small engineering firm that designed and built things. He worked 50-60 hours a week as an engineer, spent about 10 hours a week working the cash boxes at a local church camp and then spent a few hours volunteering at a local food pantry. Sometimes he did all of this, including a 50 hour work week, in a wheelchair or walker. He was in a lot of pain. He was diagnosed with polio as an infant and paralyzed in a car accident as a teen that left him with a permanent limp and in need of surgery to put pins in his leg. He spent his entire life having surgeries, had one leg shorter than the other, and in a lot of pain. Despite this, he was a happy man who took care of everyone and loved everyone.<br><br>His sister babysat me and my brother from time to time. She had two boys very close to my age and since we all got along, the four of us would often spend the night. They had a camo gun in their room, I assume a bb gun or airsoft gun or pellet gun? I was always fascinated by it. My dad told me I was too young to own a gun and I needed to leave it alone.<br><br>Once I was about 10 or 11 my dad agreed to let me get a bb gun. It was made in china, looked like a mini uzi and shot bb’s that were about .44 size. Before he let me shoot it with bb’s he wanted me to shoot it with blanks to practice safety. I thought that was ridiculous but he made me practice for probably a month before he agreed I was responsible enough with it. I was very strict about keeping it cleaned and taking care of it. This gun was my baby and I loved it. I’m now almost 40 and I still have that gun.<br><br>I will mention- I was a kid when this happened so a lot of the details are missing as I didn’t think to ask questions. The adults didn’t tell me and I was only 12 at the time and even though a murder happened right in front of me I blocked a lot of it out. Some things I don’t really remember and my brother who was there as well remembers things differently than I do. That’s just how it is. I’ve tried to put together my story with the facts I know and from my brothers perspective as much details as I can remember from the lawsuit.<br><br>My dad had a condo on the lake that he bought as a fixer upper. He’d been working on it here and there for years and made a lot of progress. He had contractors come in to finish some of the things that he couldn’t do on his own, like putting in granite countertops and hardwood floors. By the time I was 12 it was pretty much done. He invited the family out to come look at it. My cousin and her boyfriend tagged along. My cousin and her boyfriend were meth addicts. They had been known to steal from people so my dad said that if I brought my bb gun that I HAD to keep it under the bed in my room and not let my cousins see it.<br><br>My brother and I were in my room talking when my cousins boyfriend came in looking for my cousin. When he saw me he started talking to me. He was friendly and normal. He did not appear to be on meth at all. He looked at me and said- “I know your dad doesn’t like me, but I don’t do drugs anymore.” I didn’t know what to say so I mumbled “ok.” He left to find my cousin. When he left my brother said “yeah right, he’s definitely on meth now.”<br><br>He was right. Within a few minutes my cousins boyfriend had a gun to my dads head, yelling at him to open his safe and give him his guns. My dad said “I’m not going to open my safe, and I will never give you my guns. Do whatever you’re going to do to me, but I won’t give you my guns.” My dad was licensed to carry, but he didn’t have his gun on him. He had one in the safe at the condo, one at home and one in his car. This was in the middle of the day in a decent neighborhood in a gated community. I’m sure he didn’t expect to need it. My dad tried to tell him there was no reason to do this, that he was family, that we could figure this out- my cousins boyfriend didn’t care. He kept saying he was going to shoot him if he didn’t open the safe. My dad told him “I’m not going to tell you the combo. I’d rather die. Go ahead and shoot me.” My dad yelled at me and my brother to run outside and call 911. My brother and I did exactly as we were told, we ran down the stairs and across the street to the neighbors house. There wasn’t any cell phones back then so we needed to find a land line to call for help- we ran across the street and rang the doorbell. They let us in and called 911. I told them there was a man with a gun in my dads house and he was going to shoot him. They asked for the address and I told them I didn’t know, I had just Meet my dad there. The lady who called 911 looked up the address in the phone book and gave it to the police.<br><br>Before the police got there, my cousins boyfriend shot my dad in the chest at close range. He fell to the floor. He got up and started walking across the room towards the stairs. My cousins boyfriend shot him again in the middle of his back, from behind, at close range. He fell to the floor and didn’t get back up. He died shortly after.<br><br>The police showed up shortly after that. They arrested my cousins boyfriend. He was sent away for life with the possibility of parole after 20 years.<br><br>My dad was an amazing man. He loved everyone, he was honest and he was a good man. He spent his whole life taking care of others. He took care of his entire family for years, he took in foster kids and even tried to adopt the foster kids we had but the state wouldn’t let him without a mom in the house. He donated his time and his money to anyone who needed anything. He loved children and kids. He took in a couple teenage boys who were friends of mine when their parents kicked them out. He never turned anyone away who needed anything from him. He was an amazing man who spent his whole life staying true to himself and taking care of everyone around him. He was loved and I’m so glad he was able to make such a huge impact in so many peoples lives.<br><br>He was also an avid gun owner and taught his children that guns were dangerous and to always be careful and follow safety. He took a lot of time to teach me gun safety and I’m grateful for that. He was right, guns are dangerous. If they weren’t dangerous we wouldn’t carry them. I’m grateful to be from a family of gun owners. I’m grateful that I have guns to protect myself and the people I care about.<br><br>I’m posting this because it’s been weighing heavily on my heart. I can’t imagine living in a world where I’m not allowed to own a gun. I can’t imagine living in a world where I do not have the freedom to protect myself. My dad was murdered by someone who got a gun illegally just 30 minutes outside of a major city in the United States. He was murdered in a gated community. He was murdered by someone who wasn’t allowed to own a gun. If my dad had been carrying his gun that day he would be alive today.<br><br>This is just a story from someone who lost someone because of guns. I just want to add that I’m so grateful to be from a family of responsible gun owners. There are so many people who I know and love who own many guns and have never killed anyone. I truly believe the majority of people who own guns are responsible owners. I believe people can own guns and not shoot people. I believe people who own guns are not monsters. I’m not saying that people who don’t own guns are monsters, I mean that people who do own guns are not monsters. This story is simply because I want people to know where I’m coming from. I want people to know why I am so adamant that people have the right to own guns. I also want people to remember that guns are dangerous and used to kill. There is a fine line between a tool to protect yourself and killing someone. I know that. I appreciate that. I respect that. I just want people to remember where I’m coming from and why I am so passionate about the freedom to own a gun.<br><br>Edit: I did not expect this to blow up and I’m sorry I can’t respond to individual comments. I appreciate all of the support and I’m very grateful and thankful. This story and the memory of my dad is all I have, as well as a house full of guns. I hope that if anyone reads this story they can understand my point of view. Thank you everyone.