Guns, rage and the Fourth of July

I can look back on a lot of events that happened between Gary and me and laugh.

Keeping one's sanity forces that.

Time has a way of easing the pain and the fear and with that time comes a sense of humor.

Some things though are never funny, even after 30 years.

I had been married to Matt for a year at this point, and after a long day, I was trying to relax in the bathtub when Matt came in, newspaper in hand. He had the strangest look on his face. I thought someone had died.

It seems that Gary had made the news.

He then proceeded to tell me that Gary had been arrested for terrorist threats, weapons possession, and more in a very dramatic stand off on the beach Fourth of July weekend.

I knew that Gary had serious issues, but never in my wildest dreams did it occur to me that he could do anything like this. Looking back, we all should have realized it, especially me. With all the guns, knives, and violence that went on in my own home, why on earth would it stop there?

Maybe he never did it outside of the home because he got it out of his system with us. Who knows? I know I don’t, and since I am confident that our paths will never again cross, we will never know what was going through his head that day.

What could have possessed him to decide that that would be the day he would become Rambo?

What could have motivated him to load a .30 Saginaw US Carbine, put a dagger in his pocket and proceed up the block to the beach? Can you possibly imagine what must have gone through the minds of his neighbors when they glanced out their window as he marched down to the beach, armed and ready for war.

Could the backfiring of a car have caused him to turn and shoot, possibly a mother walking her child? What would have happened if a father, with his children playing in their yard, came out and confronted him?

Thank God that didn’t happen and no one was seriously hurt, but the stage was set for what could have been a very deadly day in the history of Point Pleasant Beach.
Things like this just don’t happen in our town. I don’t think there have ever been a murder here, let alone a standoff on the beach.

The scene must have been surreal for the dozen or so people that ran off the beach when they saw him approach that afternoon, gun in hand. I shudder to think of the panic and fear that they must have felt. Would today be the day that I am going to die, just because I wanted to go to the beach? Do you run, walk, freeze where you are standing?

What do you do in that situation?

These people ran, and for whatever reason, they were obviously not the intended target that day.

The police that responded to the scene were faced with a man, quite possibly under the influence of alcohol or drugs with either homicide or suicide on his mind. What other conclusion could you come up with when you are faced with an armed individual who had no intention of robbing anyone?

In his mind, I would assume, he wanted someone dead.

What kind of training is required to handle such a situation? I realize that crime happens in small towns, it is everywhere. But to think that you would be faced with a situation such as this in our little seashore town, might not have really occurred to any of the officers that responded.

When the first officer arrived on the beach and saw Gary sitting very calmly under the lifeguard stand, weapon in hand, I would imagine that a mixture of fear, tension and anxiety must have flowed through him all at the same time.

One policeman already on the beach, more coming from the other side with Gary in the middle, it must have looked like a scene from Hill Street Blues.

He was ordered to lay his weapon down; he refused, stood and faced the officers. Drawing his gun to waist height, he pointed it at the first officer who had arrived at the scene. Told again to drop his weapon, guns drawn by all and he still refused. He told the officers that he couldn’t and wouldn’t drop the gun.

With that he proceeded to walk towards the ocean, all the while walking in a slow circle to insure that he would have a clear shot at at least one of the officers at any given moment.

The tension at that moment must have been incredible.

It took a split second decision by one of the police officers when Gary’s back was turned to him to holster his weapon and charge him, tackle him into the surf in an attempt to disarm him. The gun flew out of Gary’s hands and landed under him as he and the officer wrestled, the other officers rushing to assist.

For the officers, it must have seemed like eternity, but in actuality, it was only a matter of minutes. When it was all over and done with, no one was hurt and Gary was in jail. Still as arrogant as ever, threatening the officers that he should have finished them off when he had the chance, and screaming that they should go into his cell one at a time so he could finish what he started.

That incident still haunts my mind from time to time.

What if he had come to our home instead of the beach? Would we be alive, would he have killed me and Matt and taken Shayne and Brittany? Thoughts like that need to put away and kept away.

That didn't happen so I can't dwell on it; although I did for some time after that.

I sometimes wonder if Gary really knew the magnitude of what he was doing. Not that he was incompetent, but he could take roll playing to the extreme. Was this just another act of role playing gone too far? Was it suicide by cop? Did he want to die in a very dramatic way? Maybe he really did want to harm those police officers. If that was the case, I think he was very lucky to walk off that beach, and not get carried off in a body bag.

It also have to selfishly wonder, if this had turned out with a fatal ending for anyone that was involved, what affect that would have had on my children in the years to come?

Thank God it didn’t.

A short time later, I was at the salon of my friend Lisa when her sister-in-law told me that she had heard that Gary had been screaming while being taken into custody that his wife had stolen his children from him and that’s why he was on a death wish.

I left the beauty parlor in tears, convinced it had been my fault.

That comment bothered me for years.

Was I responsible for this man’s rage against the world? Had I somehow unhinged him even more when I took my children away from him? Was this on my shoulders?

I finally realized that it was not my fault. Gary had made his choices and was responsible for them; all of them.

For his day at the beach that fourth of July, he served two years in our Ocean County Jail.

A rumor that I had heard, but can’t confirm is that he and a female guard fell in love during his time in confinement.

As the story was told to me, when Gary was released from jail, his lady-friend guard left her family and her job to travel to Florida with her new love.

Once there, I was told that she was killed after stepping off the sidewalk and being struck by a truck.

If this is true, it’s horrific for all involved. I find no pleasure in his misfortune or her tragic end.

It is moments like this that force me to ponder the existence of Karma; and if it does and that story is true, was the wrong person killed that day?