Each time I see or read the news about senseless murders at the hands of criminals let out on no bail or low bail … all in liberal run cities, I might add … I am reminded of what happened to me over 50 years ago, and I want to scream. It never goes away. The fear. The trauma. The memory of what it felt like to have a gun at my head.
The three men who kidnapped me at gunpoint didn’t shoot me, but I didn’t know they wouldn’t kill me when they got out of their car, held their guns to my head, and said they would kill me if I didn’t do as I was told.
I didn’t know they wouldn’t come to my home, as they threatened to do, and they wouldn’t burn down the house, as they threatened to do if I called the police.
I didn’t know they wouldn’t hurt my family, as they threatened to do, if I called the police.
My only choice was to do as they said as they drove away with me in the backseat of their car while a gun was pressed against my head and the other two men were waving around their guns threatening to kill me.
Did I call the police? HELL YES.
They were eventually caught and sent to prison. You would think that would be the end of my story. It’s not.
I have lived in fear for my entire life because of those three men. I pray all the time that they are dead. I have no idea what happened to them after they were sent away, and I’ve never tried to find out.
Maybe they really are dead. I hope so. They deserve nothing less for taking away my life.
© Catherine Evermore. All rights reserved.