The Missouri Rifleman
The stream of .30-caliber bullets rockets out of the plasma TV, miraculously missing the right arm of the lone young viewer.
The damage to the sofa is massive indeed. The entire right arm is shattered, which renders that end of the seat barely usable.
Severely shocked by the projectiles that have buried themselves in a shower of wood splinters in the lumber frame of the four seater where his arm had been resting, fifteen-year-old David James Richardson gasps.
The grade ten prodigy stabs at the buttons on the remote control he is using to surf for a program to watch. Now, “I’ve got to turn this thing off, so that doesn’t happen again!” he mutters to himself under his breath.
The intent is to prevent further shots from blasting out of the family’s entertainment center. “Bullets can’t get out of the TV and damage furniture; things like that don’t happen,” he stammers aloud.
He punches at the touch-screen of the set’s remote control, but quickly realizes that, in the clumsiness of his panic, rather than hitting the OFF button, he has instead pressed the ▲COMPASS button.
The image of what appears to be a World War II American soldier or marine does not disappear. Instead, DJ is almost petrified when the M1-Garand-rifle-toting serviceman suddenly zooms in to point-blank range.
For the first time in its history, the Richardson’s family room is penetrated by the business end of a firearm.
“Don’t shoot!” the boy yells.
Instantly, almost without a thought, he begins to poke repeatedly at the ▼COMPASS button to reverse the action that brought the uniformed man up close and personal, right into the home of the St. Petersburg, Florida, family.
He is delighted to see the warrior rapidly, although at first only in a brief series of jerky movements; then, thankfully, as far as James is concerned, smoothly, totally back off from his earlier confrontational stance, as the boy deliberately holds the button down.
His huge sigh of relief is clearly audible at the immediacy of the troop withdrawal from his home.
A distinct lack of daylight in the scene causes the teenager some difficulty seeing much beyond one hundred yards or so.
His thoughts revert once more to turning off the set his dad has recently installed in the family’s rec room.
However, it occurs to Deej, before he hits the OFF button, that nobody will ever believe his story in a month of Sundays.
If the lad powers down the TV, he will destroy virtually every scrap of evidence he has of the momentous incident. Everything, that is, with the exception of the enormous holes gouged into the settee.
So, there is an urgent need to get a second opinion.
What an intriguing and challenging decision the teen needs to make.
He must choose between getting verification of what he has seen and experienced, or, pulling the plug, and thus powering off the set, losing everything.
The damning thing, it, is that the proof of the reality of his experience lies in leaving the TV on and letting someone else see it.
From his family’s experiences, the teen knows instinctively that the intruder is an American warrior; probably from World War II. He cannot conjure up any additional information that would explain the strange, violent intrusion.
All of this prompts many questions: Should DJ fear an increase of danger presented by this, or other armed men entering the house through the HD device?
Perhaps even more importantly, will he be able to control whatever happens next?
If James leaves the set on will it continue responding in a similar way?