My Process in Becoming a Private Investigator
After being the victim
of an attempted murder in June of 1993, I decided to devote my life to a career
in investigation and protective services. I studied and apprenticed, taking
courses in criminal and civil law, criminal investigations, legal procedures,
evidence analysis and preservation, interviewing techniques, criminal justice, firearms
training, security and defensive tactics.
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After being (honorably) discharged
from the United States Army in November of 1991, I worked in the mortgage business.
Then the following occurred:
I had driven my car into
the parking lot of the office building where the mortgage company was located in
Tacoma on a Wednesday at about 9 p.m., and parked. I got out of my car and
began walking toward the door of the office building when I heard several
footsteps coming toward me from behind. I turned around and saw four young
males that appeared to be in their mid-teens approaching me; one leading the
way and holding a gun in his right hand. I knew I did not have time to get back
in my car to escape or escape on foot without being shot. It was clear the only
chance I had of surviving was to confront the situation and hope for the best. I
took a defensive stance by standing with one leg forward so as to not be
knocked down easily, and quickly calculated my options.
I remember thinking: the
best chance I have of surviving is to disarm the gun and wrestle it out of his
hand — if he can’t fire the gun, he can’t
kill me. Even though there were four of them, I concentrated on the one with
the gun.
The one holding the gun
stood in front of me demanding money and it was clear from the look in his eyes
that he had no intention of letting me live. As a diversion, I gave the
impression that I was reaching into my front left pants pocket to retrieve
money, which fortunately made him slightly lower the gun and move it to his
left away from my body and gave me the opportunity to control the situation and
get the gun away from him. I pushed it further away from my body using my right
hand and began ramming my left index and middle fingers behind the trigger to
jam it and prevent the gun from being able to be fired as I attempted to wrestle
the weapon out of his hand.
As a side note, he was
able to fire a round before I could get my fingers behind the trigger to jam
the gun, but the bullet did not hit me. (Out of the corner of my right eye, I
saw the brass cartridge laying on the ground from the bullet bouncing off the
pavement.)
I continued ramming my
fingers behind the trigger. He tried to fire the gun again several times as I
was pushing my fingers behind the trigger and wrestling for control over the
weapon. Fortunately, the other three did nothing but watch. He eventually gave
up and released his grip on the gun’s handle and they all ran off down the
street.
I pulled my sore, bloody fingers out
from behind the trigger — I had cut one finger on a burr that was on
the backside of the trigger. I cleared and secured the gun, and called 911;
sheriff’s deputies responded. I turned over the gun to the deputies and told
them what had happened. I could tell by the look on their faces they were
amazed by my actions. One deputy said, “You’re lucky to be alive.” I responded,
“Anyone who tries to kill me is going to have to earn it.” www.BrianBlackwell.com
Seattle , Washington USA
