A Responsible Gun Owner Despite My Mental Illness

“I could shoot the nuts off a mosquito at a hundred yards.” It was the kind of thing my father, a retired Master Gunnery Sergeant in the Marines, was fond of saying about his once-expert marksmanship. Ironically, for all of my youth, guns were off-limits, though they were a major part of my father’s life and, subsequently, my imagination.

It wasn’t until I was in my thirties and doing research for my forthcoming novel that he finally took me to the range. I fired a Taurus Judge that day—a .45-caliber