A little Maine sunshine left my wife and I with a full morning of unplanned exercise; clearing driveways, steps and walkways, structures, and utilities. Grinding through with snow blowers, digging away with shovels. As kids growing up in New Jersey, the same tasks were fun. As a young couple in South Dakota, there was a sense of achievement in enduring whatever nature could dish out. As a mature couple in Maine, after a brief sense of satisfaction in a job well done, the result is a nap, an early diner and early bed time and sound sleep.
My wife went to bed around 9 PM in anticipation of a 5 AM morning start. Binge watching Iron Fist on Netflix, I didn’t head upstairs until a little after 11 PM. On my way up I noticed the backyard security area light had been triggered, but didn’t think much of it as wildlife and swirling snow blowing off the roof often caused the same. Once upstairs I clicked the alarm system fob to arm the system. The alarm beeped in acknowledgement, but when I clicked again to bring all of the systems sensors on line, a crashing sound and the sound of something heavy hitting the a tile floor came from the kitchen and the alarm system started screeching.
The situation was a little chaotic. The lower floor was dark, the alarm was blaring, my wife was awakened from a sound sleep and trying to get her bearings and the alarm company began sending text messages and calling for instructions. I was able to kill the sounding alarm but the security system would not reset and a loud digital voice continually cautioned that the control panel had been tampered with. A lot of information to digest before quickly making a decision.
A Ruger 357 Mag revolver was in my hand from the moment the alarm sounded and I was posted at the open bedroom door. The downstairs lights were now switched on for a clear view of the downstairs area and the foot of the stairs. My wife had moved away from the bed to a back wall, safe from the potential of stray bullets or someone intentionally shooting through a sheetrock wall or the floor. The alarm company was asked to call the police. We live in a rural area, patrolled and protected by the sheriff’s office. Best case, someone would arrive within twenty minutes.
Why did I have the police called rather than heading downstairs and clearing each room on my own? After all, I had a gun in my hand and I certainly know how to use it. Because, from my vantage point, no one could approach the stairs without being in my line of sight. My wife was safe; I had a clear advantages and I was armed. Moving downstairs, the situation would be unknown, there would be little cover and open interior doorways on all sides. Additionally, if something happened to me my wife would left to her own defense, even though she was also armed. The assessment was that going downstairs to investigate would increased risk, so better to be patient and wait for law enforcement.
Through an upstairs’ window, we saw the deputy pull into the driveway. I went downstairs, gun in hand and switched on all of the outside area and porch lights. When he got to the porch stairs I secured the revolver out of sight in a table draw and opened the door. I explained the situation, I told him I did not see an intruder, I recited the sequence of events and concluded only that I could not explain the kitchen commotion and the alarm being triggered. We did a walk though the house and garage, checked the area around outside doors at the back of the house and found nothing suspicious.
Eventually, the cause of the triggered alarm was found. The latch on the door of the control panel was worn and barely retained. The first chirp when setting the alarm provided enough vibration to cause the control panel door to flop open, which triggered the “tampered” alarm. When the door came down it struck the side of an aluminum enclosed flashlight that was standing up on the counter in front of the panel. When struck, the flashlight tipped over on the hard granite counter top making the first crashing sound, then it rolled off the counter and fell three feet to the tile floor; lots of noise.
Upstairs and out of sight, I had no way to tell the difference between what actually occurred and an intruder getting in through the garage door, attempting to disarm the control panel and knocking into things in the dark. I apologized to the deputy for taking him away from things of greater importance; Maine has a serious hard drug problem, complete with all of the associated crimes of property and violence. The deputy went out of his way to assure my wife and I that no apology was required. Nice guy, very professional and not without a sense of humor.
Final thoughts? I am a civilian, not a trained member of law enforcement and I never confuse ego with ability on issues of importance. Eliminating a threat to life by shooting an intruder is within my skill set and emotional makeup. An intruder coming up the stairs to our bedroom in the middle of the night, knowing we were there and knowing I was armed, would constitute a mortal danger. A teenage junkie, thinking no one was home, breaking in and rummaging around looking for something to steal, would not constitute the same. So we waited for law enforcement before forcing a situation.
Why did I switch on all of the outside area lights, put away my firearms before greeting the deputy? My feeling is that law enforcement has to have the best chance of knowing what they are walking into and identifying friend or foe. Certainly not caused by law enforcement in our area, but I am much more weary how law enforcement will react to a home owner with a firearm.
I am sure others would have handled the overall situation differently.
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