Conceal Carry Permit holder kills cop

In 2009, Humberto Delgado Jr., 34, shot and killed 11-year Tampa police veteran Corporal Mike Roberts after the officer responded to a suspicious person call. Delgado was pushing a shopping cart which turned out to be filled with military gear, a Kel-Tec assault rifle, a Taurus .45 pistol, and a .22 revolver. He also had a Glock17 pistol in a backpack. When Corporal Roberts tried to question Delgado, a struggle ensued and Roberts was shot while on his back. Although Corporal Roberts was wearing body armor, a bullet struck him in an unprotected area and entered his chest. Delgado had been a law enforcement officer in the Virgin Islands for four years until 2000 and had served in the U.S. Army. He had a concealed handgun permit issued in North Carolina. Florida has reciprocity with North Carolina. A search of Delgado’s storage unit uncovered another firearm, a laser sight, a copy of Shooter’s Bible, and a certificate for completion of a firearms safety course. Delgado faced charges of premeditated murder and aggravated assault on a law enforcement officer.

On November 15, 2011, Delgado was found guilty of first-degree murder in the death of Corporal Mike Roberts. He was sentenced to death on February 11, 2012.

Another responsible gun owner with no prior criminal history accidentally kills his 3 year old girl.

Kills an innocent 3 year child.

How can this happen? It's the newest gun craze called the Car Keys Syndrome.

The gun used in an accidental, self-inflicted shooting that killed a 3-year-old girl last month had been left loaded on a table while the child's father got ready for work, deputies say.

To this father, his loaded gun was no more important that his Car Keys.

Family members describe Chambers as "a responsible gun owner" ... "most wonderful father in the world."

That wasn't the case. His toddler previously played with the gun. Chambers admits to leaving the gun in a laundry basket a few months ago. Of course the 3 year old found and began playing with it.

The toddlers "mother recalled another incident. That time, she was sleeping and woke up to Zuri pointing a gun at her."

The father had a valid concealed carry weapons permit for the Kel-Tec 9 mm. He left it out so he wouldn't forget it. Sort of like forgetting your car keys.

When deputies arrived at the house, they found another loaded gun lying in plain sight, a Berretta 9 mm. It was next to a play pen used by the 3 year old.

So, a man trained in gun safety, having passed a back ground screening, left not one but two guns laying around for a 3 year old.

Like car keys. So common. So safe. Nothing to worry about other than forgetting where they are when you need them.

Man with conceal carry permit commits murder in Florida over loud music

He had never committed a crime. Nice quiet guy. Always waved and smiled at his neighbors.

Then one day, the music was too loud.

Nine shots later, a 17 year old kid sitting in the back seat of a SUV was dead.

What did the shooter have to say? No one is going to talk to me like that!

Another dead black kid in Florida. Nine shots. A 47 year old adult starts a shouting match. Loses the shouting match. Goes to his car. Gets his gun out of the locked dash.

Empties the gun through the front door of the other vehicle.

Expect a not-guilty verdict. The ghetto kids assaulted him with bass.

Well, it was maybe tremble. Or, a 4 inch pocket knife. Or, a shotgun!

If you're going to shot a 17 year old kid in the back, then claim self-defense, it really helps your case if you remember being threatened with a knife or a shotgun.

And, if it is self-defense, don't drive away.

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Gun nuts in public meetings

I've had a fever, chills, and other flu like symptoms for 2 days. In a delirious dream, I had the following encounter with a Right to Carry nut.

It was a public forum set up by Democrats for a Democratic Candidate. The candidate was speaking from a podium when the Right to Carry Nut got up.

At some point in his remarks, I lost my cool. Must have been my fever even in the dream.

I started shouting, "Do you have a hidden gun? Right now? Right here? Are you hiding a gun?"

'I have a Concealed Carry Permit.'

"I have a prescription for penicillin but that doesn't give me a right to hide moldy bread in my pockets. Are you hiding a gun?"

'I have a right to carry my gun.'

"So where are you hiding it? Can't be in that many places. You don't have a man purse with you. There's no bulge in the front of your jeans. So unless your mother cut your balls off at birth, you ain't packing anything there. So you must be hiding a gun barrel in your butt crack. So fess up. Are you a crack packer?"

The guy gets a little testy with me. 'I flew 25 missions as a tail gunner on a B-17 in Europe...'

I was on a roll by then so I cut him off. "So you admit to being a tail end Charlie all your life. Is that why you're hiding a gun?"

He's getting angry now. He gets down to my level with a few 4 letter words. But then he goes for the kill. 'You're nothing but a niggar loving Democrat!'

"I know what I am and what people think about me. But this forum opened up with a prayer to God, followed by the Pledge of Allegiance. It's a public library in South Hall. Why are you here twerking a gun? I'll tell you why. You're afraid. Scared. You're a coward."

"You don't have the guts to face life on its terms. Oh it's a dangerous world. But where's the danger here? You are the danger here. For no logical reason, you're hiding a gun."

"Now let me tell you what happens next. You're going to shot me or leave. Because I have rights. A right to justice. Expectations that in a public place, no one is going to stand up and brag about packing a hidden gun. That's my right."

I started moving towards the general area where the man was seated. Like a typical coward, he was in the middle of the room where he could be attacked by all his demons from any direction at any time. Yet, his position put him in the middle of anyone. The safest place in the room. Or, in a herd. Only in a herd, the males stay at the edge, at the perimeter, protecting the females hiding in the middle of the herd.

An coward.

"Folks, you might want to start moving away from the Crack Packer." I get to the end of his row of seats and people do start moving. Away from me.

"The next move is yours, dude. Leave. Take your chicken shit, gun loving ass out of here."

Now this is when I start making plans. He's still standing up. Arms crossed in defiance. But, he's not talking any more. One of his legs has a slight tremble. Options for me include picking up a chair, throwing it at him, then rushing him. Or, closing the gap between us until I'm chest to chest with him. I hope he's thinking, I'm not leaving.

"So what's your pleasure. You going to shoot me because I'm an niggar loving Democrat? I don't think so. I think you're too much of coward to shoot someone face to face. Unless I turn my back to you, I'm safe."

Now some people in the room are trying to control the group. The candidate at the podium is frozen like a bag of Mrs. Paul's fish sticks. Somewhere reasonable voices are screaming, Oh God! Stop this! Reasonable voices always scream at God.

There are five metal folding chairs between me and the gun nut.

I say, "You're going to leave because you don't have a right to endanger everyone here buy hiding a gun in your pants."

I take a step down the row of chairs.

And that's when the dream ends. It might have been the dog licking my toes. My wife might have slapped me to wake me up. Or, just slapped me because I'm always thinking about stuff no one should think about. Or, those flu like symptoms took control of my mind and body.

But I never get to finish business.

The man who packs a gun to a public library, hides it in the back of his pants, is a coward.

Me? I'm just a nut. Somebody will shoot me some day. In the back.