“Howard,” Rachel called, “there are police cars in front of our house.” Howard looked out the window, counted six police vehicles disgorging armed officers wearing body armor and helmets with clear face shields. Two officers carried a large battering ram.
“Oh my word,” gasped Rachel. “They’re coming up our walk!”
The door frame shattered, the door flew open and officers rushed into the house. “Freeze,” screamed the first officer. He pointed a black rifle at Howard and Rachel. Another officer with sergeant stripes on his arms said, “Clear the house. Bring anyone you find here.” Three officers fanned out from the group.
“Are you Howard Morgan?” the sergeant demanded.
“Yes,” Howard said.
“Who are you?” the sergeant said to Rachel.
“Rachel Morgan,” she stammered. Rachel clung to Howard’s arm, her mouth dry as sand, her eyes wide and full of fear.
“You’re under arrest, Mr. Morgan,” the sergeant said.
“What for?”
The sergeant read from a piece of paper he held. “Violation of Revised U.S. Code, American Regulation Number 15, failure to buy another firearm within the time frame mandated by federal law.”
“Howard, you didn’t buy another gun in the last two years?” said Rachel.
“No.”
“What did you do with the money?”
“I used it to pay for your prescriptions the insurance company refused to cover.”
The three officers returned. One said, “The house is clear, Sergeant Brett.” He pointed his rifle at Howard and Rachel as he spoke. “Just these two.”
Sergeant Brett turned to Howard. “We have to take you in, Mr. Morgan.”
“Arms behind your back, Sir,” said an officer. He stepped behind Howard and put cuffs on Howard’s wrists.
“How long will I be in jail?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Morgan. Violation of AR-15 is a class-A felony. Sometimes bail is granted and sometimes violators are remanded until they go to trial. Depends on the judge.” Two officers took Howard by his elbows and hustled him out to the police cars.
“Am I being arrested, too?” asked Rachel.
“No. Your name isn’t on the warrant,” said Sergeant Brett.
“What’s going to happen to me? I’ll die without Howard.”
“You aren’t our concern.”
“Why does the government force us to keep buying guns? This law is wrong, and you know it.”
“We don’t write the laws, Mrs. Morgan. We just enforce them.” Sergeant Brett turned to the remaining officers. “Let’s go.”
Rachel stood in the shattered doorway and watched the police cars drive away. “How did this happen?” she said to the silence surrounding her.
“Oh my word,” gasped Rachel. “They’re coming up our walk!”
The door frame shattered, the door flew open and officers rushed into the house. “Freeze,” screamed the first officer. He pointed a black rifle at Howard and Rachel. Another officer with sergeant stripes on his arms said, “Clear the house. Bring anyone you find here.” Three officers fanned out from the group.
“Are you Howard Morgan?” the sergeant demanded.
“Yes,” Howard said.
“Who are you?” the sergeant said to Rachel.
“Rachel Morgan,” she stammered. Rachel clung to Howard’s arm, her mouth dry as sand, her eyes wide and full of fear.
“You’re under arrest, Mr. Morgan,” the sergeant said.
“What for?”
The sergeant read from a piece of paper he held. “Violation of Revised U.S. Code, American Regulation Number 15, failure to buy another firearm within the time frame mandated by federal law.”
“Howard, you didn’t buy another gun in the last two years?” said Rachel.
“No.”
“What did you do with the money?”
“I used it to pay for your prescriptions the insurance company refused to cover.”
The three officers returned. One said, “The house is clear, Sergeant Brett.” He pointed his rifle at Howard and Rachel as he spoke. “Just these two.”
Sergeant Brett turned to Howard. “We have to take you in, Mr. Morgan.”
“Arms behind your back, Sir,” said an officer. He stepped behind Howard and put cuffs on Howard’s wrists.
“How long will I be in jail?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Morgan. Violation of AR-15 is a class-A felony. Sometimes bail is granted and sometimes violators are remanded until they go to trial. Depends on the judge.” Two officers took Howard by his elbows and hustled him out to the police cars.
“Am I being arrested, too?” asked Rachel.
“No. Your name isn’t on the warrant,” said Sergeant Brett.
“What’s going to happen to me? I’ll die without Howard.”
“You aren’t our concern.”
“Why does the government force us to keep buying guns? This law is wrong, and you know it.”
“We don’t write the laws, Mrs. Morgan. We just enforce them.” Sergeant Brett turned to the remaining officers. “Let’s go.”
Rachel stood in the shattered doorway and watched the police cars drive away. “How did this happen?” she said to the silence surrounding her.
