Attic Shootout – Real Life Gun Fight

The following is a true story. We publish these stories to shed light on the reality of crime and violence. It’s not pretty, the good guys don’t always walk away unharmed, and the bad guys don’t always get caught, but if you train yourself and stay prepared your chances of survival will skyrocket, even when it hits the fan.

I’d been a patrol officer for 11 years and had never had anything really hairy happen. Oh, we had some scuffles with the white trash that lived around town, and had to deal with the [illegal] Mexicans once in a while… Had two boys get in a stickin’ contest once with knives, but once we blew a load a buckshot their way they sorta decided they didn’t want to give us any problems.

I guess that was about the worst of it, until that day in the attic.

I got a [radio] call one afternoon about some shots fired. Didn’t seem like a big deal. Town wasn’t very big back then and people’s always shootin’ off guns at stray dogs or tin cans out in their back yards. When I got to the house where shootin’ was reported, Tom, a fellow officer, had showed up too. I was going to let Tom deal with it but this lady [the neighbor who made the call] was makin’ a big fuss sain’ this o’l boy was still in the house and he’d killed his girlfriend. How the hell she figured all that, I don’t know.

Tom went around back an’ I knocked on the front door. I remember thinkin’ that lady was full a crap, but my stomach was sorta churnin’, so I guess maybe part a’ me believed her.

Didn’t get no answer so I went inside, hand on my piece [gun]. I went through the living room and then down this long hallway. There was two doorways on each side. At the first doorway on the left I took a peek inside there was this woman, maybe late twenties, layin’ on the floor on her side. Her head was kinda flat. There was blood all over the floor and wall. She was deader ‘n hell. “Oh f–k.” I thought. I wasn’t ready for this. I heard Tom comin’ down the hall and stepped away from the doorway to let him see in. The situation had got real serious, real quick.

We were pretty sure the ol’ boy who’d done this was long gone, but we searched the house anyway. It was one of those old houses with wood floors where everything echoed. The house was empty. Tom got on the phone and called the station for Bill (our detective) and the coroner. I was standin’ there an’ heard the ceiling creak in the next room. I realized the boy could be up in the attic.

We found the trap door an’ I got on a chair an’ knocked the [trap] door up into the attic. We yelled for the boy to come down. I still wasn’t a 100% sure that he was up there an’ I hadn’t heard anything in the attic since. Tom was pretty heavy an’ didn’t think he could get up there. I sure as hell didn’t want to go up there, but someone had to.

Tom went out [to the car] an’ got some flashlights an’ I lifted myself up into the attic. It was pretty dark an’ there was this insulation all over the kind you blow in, not them big pink strips. I started coughin’ right away.

I shined the light around an’ saw these big boxes at the other end of the attic. I started walkin’ along the beams, tryin’ to keep the light on the boxes, an’ I slipped. My left foot went right through the floor and I fell down between the beams. My whole damn leg went through the floor an’ was danglin’ through the ceiling below. I was sittin’ there up to my ass in insulation, coughin’ my lungs out. I couldn’t get up an’ was scared I was goin’ to go right through the floor. Tom’s head popped up through the [trap] door an’ he shined his light on me. I was cussin’ up a storm sittin’ there an’ forgot about the boy we were lookin’ for.

Out of the corner of my left eye I caught a couple of bright flashes an’ something punched me in my left shoulder an’ knocked me over onto my right side. I got a mouthful of insulation an’ it got into my eyes. My ears were ringin’ an’ my shoulder hurt — bad!

I tried to sit up an’ wipe the shit out of my eyes an’ saw a bunch more flashes. For the first time I heard the gunshots. Loud! F–ker was up there all right, an he was shootin’ at me. I got real scared all of a sudden. My right eye was really hurtin’ bad an’ I couldn’t see out of it. Turned out a nail had gone through it. Didn’t find that out till later on, though.

I always hear folks sayin’ how in high stress situations things seem to slow down. That’s a’ bunch horse shit. Things was movin’ along pretty quick.

I sat up an’ reached for the [Ruger] security six on my right side. In eleven years I had never fired my service piece in the line of duty.

The boy was on my left side an’ I fist fired three times in his general direction – I couldn’t really aim. I just wanted him to stop shootin’ at me. He did. Either I scared him, or he was out of ammo. I tried to lift myself up an’ get out of there but my left arm hurt so bad I didn’t want to move it.
I looked over and saw Tom tryin’ to get up into the attic. He couldn’t really do it an’ was just hangin’ there, one arm in, tryin’ to hold his light on me.

I felt the beams shakin’ an’ looked to my left. Tom’s light caught the ol’ boy comin’ right toward me! I couldn’t breathe, my lungs were so full of shit, an’ l was gettin’ pretty lightheaded. Like an idiot I put out my hand, I guess hopin’ the boy would help me up! I saw he was holdin’ a [Browning] high power an’ that the slide was locked open. He was out of bullets, thank God!

He couldn’t really get around me an’ I guess he thought I was tryin’ to stop him; I wasn’t. He whacked me in the head with his high power. I felt like I was goin’ to throw up. I grabbed up my flashlight—it was one of those steel kind, they were new at the time—and swung it as hard as I could at him. I hit him in the knee with it and he stepped back and yelled. I somehow managed to get up out of the hole I was in and got to my feet. I think l was more scared than pissed. I just wanted out of there.

I hauled back my light and rapped that boy on his skull. I lifted the light to hit him again and the batteries flew out the bottom! Without the weight of the batteries the light was useless!

I couldn’t use my left arm very well but grabbed him by his belt with it. I hit him in the face with my good hand a couple times but he was coverin’ up so I mostly just hit his hands. Tom was still hangin’ in the [trap] door, useless as tits on a boar hog, but he was shining his light on us an’ I guess that helped some.

The boy pushed me an’ I stepped back – my left foot went right back in the f—kin’ hole again. I fell down again and this time just about busted my balls on the beam.

The boy grabbed something from his back pocket with one hand and released the magazine from his high power. The spent mag dropped into the insulation an’ I realized he was reloading. I nearly shit myself. I guess by reaction I grabbed for my service piece. It was there in my holster! I must have put it back after I fired my first three shots. I drew and fired my last three rounds. I hit that boy all three times in the gut from about six feet away.

He just sort of stumbled and fell on his side. I still couldn’t breathe an’ was chokin’ pretty bad. My arm and my head hurt somethin’ fierce. I couldn’t believe it was over. Tom never did get his fat ass up into that attic. It was the firemen who got me down.

I don’t work no more, not for the [police] department. I been asked if I get bitter about bein’ disabled. I don’t. Wasn’t nobody’s fault. Nowadays, if a suspect gets cornered like that, they call it a barricade situation. Department policy says you call in backup, or SWAT. You don’t go in there yourself. Back then, we didn’t have SWAT. We just did our job. I think that the way things are now is a lot better; officers are a lot better trained. I got lucky. I shoulda been better trained.

Officer Long is retired on permanent disability since the incident. The gunshot wound he sustained shattered the bone in his upper arm. He has recovered from that injury, but has lost the sight in his right eye and suffers chronic lung problems from inhaling toxic elements. He survived his battle but is one of the countless victims of the violence that plagues our society.

What does this story have to do with you? Well, just this: If you think you understand how to perform in a real life and death gun fight because you’ve trained at the range, you’re DEAD wrong.

You need training. Real life combat training for a gun fight. Which you can get right HERE, right NOW.