OK, I'll bite. I am in an apartment. I have a gun. I live on the 4th floor. There is exactly 1 door in and out. My apartment is in thirds: The front door leads directly into a living area that stretches all the way back to the only door to the porch. I am in the master bedroom with a window out to the porch. My kid has their room on the other side of the living space, with a window to just outside. So, big shot, what would you want us to do? My son puts out the trash at night and forgets to lock the door, we go to sleep, and then someone comes in. Do I jump out my window onto the balcony, then jump from the 4th floor? Does my son just jump from the 4th floor? Or let's wipe the kid from it entirely; let's say I forget to lock my door. Shit happens. So, again, do I jump from the 4th floor, breaking at least my legs, or can you admit that the money and the time means absolutely nothing? Because the training was accrued since I was a child, and the gun itself was a Christmas present when I moved out here all alone from my paranoid but loving boomer parents. You just don't like guns, and for as much as you're willing to bitch about american culture being fucked up, you'd rather blame somebody for the death rather than the very american culture you claim to oppose. It is fucked up out here. That's not anons fault, nor is the death of the perp.