Doug

I joined the Army Reserve in 1988. I was on the delayed entry program, so I joined about a year before I graduated high school. And because I joined the Army Reserve, the unit where I would drill was about 15 miles away from my town. And so, before I even went to boot camp, I spent nine months drilling one weekend a month at the unit and learning a lot of fundamental stuff, so it made Basic easier. I met my friend at that time and we became really quick friends. He was Native American and that’s super common there, and so that’s maybe important later on. 

I went off to boot camp the summer after I graduated in 1989, and we were all combat arms, we were 11 Bravo, so infantry; and so, as part of training, you get to do a lot of fun stuff like fire grenade launchers, machine guns, that sort of thing.  

And so, the point is me and him both knew our way around firearms well. And so, about a year or two into going to college--I think it’s 1991--he had come by my car while I was in class and left a note to come by the house, it was a Friday night. So, I went over there, and we were drinking beer, but not a lot of beer; like I had had maybe two or three, he had had maybe four or five, watching TV; and his father had also been in the military, he did maybe two or three tours in Vietnam, and so his father owned a lot of firearms as well. He had an M16 that we messed with a little bit; and one of the things you learn to do is always check a weapon when it’s handed to; you always clear it and make sure it’s not loaded. So that was a normal thing when someone would hand you a firearm, you’d go through the motions, right?  

And we checked out a couple of different firearms and he had a .32 pistol, a little shallow, short-nosed revolver. He handed it to me, I checked it out, and I handed it back to him. I did not check to see if it was loaded, or I didn’t even think about it. And so, a few minutes passed and I’m in the living room, and we’re getting ready to go out, and he walked into the room and looked at me, and held the pistol to his head, and he smiled, and pulled the trigger. He fell; kind of just slumped fell on the living room floor. There was a little hole in the side of his head, and it looked like his skull would have just been full of blood because blood was shooting out of it like you would maybe puncture a gallon of milk or something, and so just this stream of liquid coming out; and it smelled like burnt hair and skin. He started foaming at the mouth.  

I went into another room in the house where his sister was in there watching TV and just kind of ignoring us. Got her, had her cover her eyes, and got her out of the house. The hospital was literally almost across the street maybe half a block away; and so, I just ran to the hospital to get help because back then, it would have taken a little bit to call. And so, I ran into the emergency room, yelled for help and they were there almost immediately. This is in a small college town, about 5,000 population. So, within just a few minutes, there were maybe 20 cop cars in the area; it’s just... it was insane. 

I was arrested for murder. And when this happened, the town mayor even came down. They wouldn’t let me touch my hands because, later on, they would do a gun powder test on them to see if I was the one that had fired the pistol. And this is just standard procedure, I think; they weren’t trying to be mean or making a big deal out of me, but they did let me know that that’s the process that we needed to get done. My friend was still alive at this point and already in the hospital, and they were working on him. So, I went to the hospital as well; I was in an adjoining room. A detective that we both knew from the police department was there with me and they did the gunpowder test on my hands, and I didn’t have any powder on my hands. They checked his hands, and he did; just making sure they could show that he fired the pistol.  

My friend passed away and I remember the detective telling me and I was just... just numb, like I couldn’t feel anything. And he told me it was all right to cry and I just friggin lost it. I mean just... it was rough. At the time, I was completely convinced it was an accident; he was a little buzzed and he was screwing around, that’s the kind of person he was, everything was a freaking joke and it wouldn’t be out of realm to hold a gun to his head joking. 

It’s not necessarily from his death, but I did have PTSD to the extent that when I was driving down the road, I thought someone would pass me and shoot me in the head. I mean it’s really a bizarre thing and I didn’t--my family, everyone in the South, my parents were conservative, you didn’t go get mental help back then, and so it wouldn’t be until years later that I understood all that. I’m sorry, what was the question? Oh, whether he meant to kill himself. So, a psychologist told me at one point that anytime you point a gun to your head, loaded or not, or whatever, it’s a suicidal thing to kind of be doing, right? It would maybe be in a plan or something. So, at this point, I do believe he meant to kill himself.

I think I locked it up pretty much. I know all my close friends at the time that I hung out with, there was maybe a point where I got drunk and freaked out...I don’t remember sitting down and talking to any of them about, "This is something that happened," and everyone kind of whispered about, "Oh, he’s pretty screwed up," whatever. But I was just supposed to get over it. I just locked all my mental problems kind of away in a box and kept them from view for a real long time. But when I was by myself, I would break down and get upset about it. 

I really feel like if I would have been able to talk to a professional at the time--a psychologist, a psychiatrist---I would have been much better off mentally later on. I think trying to bury feelings for six or eight years, or whatever it was, caused more damage than what maybe, needed to happen. I definitely had mental illness before the event, but I did have a lot of PTSD after it. It’s not necessarily from his death, but I did have PTSD to the extent that when I was driving down the road, I thought someone would pass me and shoot me in the head. I mean it’s really a bizarre thing and I didn’t--my family, everyone in the South, my parents were conservative, you didn’t go get mental help really back then, and so it wouldn’t be until years later that I understood all that.  

I don’t think at the time, and the person I was, I would have sought that kind of help, though. Now, it’s different. Now, I can be like, "Well, obviously, that’s what I needed to do was go try to get help."  

Working on your mind, is a lifelong process, and this is the most stable, the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I’m doing really, really well now, but it was pretty touch-and-go for several years. So, I don’t know... I think the trick is to get to this point in life where you can look back and kind of figure things out.

My brother had just lost his best friend about a year before in a three-wheeler accident, and I remember him telling me, maybe I should talk to one of my friends, and even mentioning a specific friend that he thought might--if I didn’t want to talk to him--he thought it might be good to go talk to somebody. There was a point not too long after, where I remember being in the same town where it happened and just breaking down crying, and I went to a church to try to find a priest to talk to, and I couldn’t. There wasn’t a priest there but there was an older guy--really nice older guy there that really wanted me to talk to him and I just couldn’t do it, and so I just gave up and went about my day or whatever, I don’t know. But I do remember an instance where I was really looking for help over it. 

And then let’s see, it would be another eight years--maybe-- before I’d actually figure out I had problems and needed help. And even to this day, I haven't really cleaned this up, I kind of don’t mess with it, it’s kind of a bad, bad time in my life. I think I locked it up pretty much. I know all my close friends at the time that I hung out with, there was maybe a point where I got drunk and freaked out... I don’t remember sitting down and talking to any of them about, "This is something that happened," and everyone kind of whispered about, "Oh, he’s pretty screwed up," whatever. But I was just supposed to get over it; I just locked all my mental problems kind of away in a box and keep them from view for a real long time. But when I was by myself, I would break down and get upset about it. 

My wife now, that I’ve been with for 21 years, when I met her, is the first person that really encouraged me to not hide, not try to hide my feelings or--I would go driving by myself and cry the whole time and look up, and it’s been 30 minutes and I’m in a whole other part of the city, and I don’t necessarily know how I got there, things like that. 

So, when I got with my current wife, she really encouraged me to open up about a lot of stuff and also to go to the hospital and try to get some help. I ended up having a suicide attempt and that was my first entry into getting involved with mental health. And so, I was hospitalized briefly. So, that’s how I got into getting mental health help.

I grew up in a rural part, in a real little town; and my family, my family’s friends, everybody owned guns--shot guns--it wasn’t unusual to spend a Saturday shooting clay pigeon. And so, I grew up using guns and hunting--mainly hunting quail and dove; occasionally, we’d go to another state to hunt pheasant.  

Where we grew up, it wasn’t uncommon to have a gun rack in your pickup sitting at school, at high school with shotguns in it or--it was before the era of school shootings, so it was pretty common, lots of us carried weapons with us like that; and it's usually to just go shooting after school.

I haven’t owned one since; I had a couple of shotguns in high school, but since the event, I haven’t owned a firearm. And psychologically, I wasn’t able to have one--even to this day, it’s not a good idea; and my wife, especially, would not feel comfortable with me having one around the house. So, we bought Mace--and I take my dog for a walk every night--and we’re getting old and there’s mean kids, so I bought a Mace pistol, and so I’ve got a little teargas pistol. But yeah, no guns for me. I’m such a different person now. I’m an old hippie musician now, so guns don’t really go with my schtick.  

I feel like everybody with guns in the home, especially with children, needs to be doing trigger locks in a gun safe; and for other reasons too, what if they get broken and stolen, and used for crime or whatever? I feel like there should be that level of gun safety going on, I just... I don’t… it's complicated, people get so emotional over it. Trigger locks, any sort of thing that could be put in place to make them safer in gun cabinets, locking gun cabinets. Also, if I was raising young children and I was into firearms, I would have them in a firearm safety course as soon as possible and get them used to the idea that guns are extremely dangerous.

Yeah, I don’t... it would have been better at the time, if everyone around me would have been open about what happened instead of... maybe trying to not hurt my feelings or talk about it. If I would have been able to scream and cry for a few weeks afterwards, I think that would have helped. And because I was so within and no one really wanted to get close emotionally on that issue--and I can understand that--maybe that prevented me from healing or grieving like I should have. Everyone around me was like, walking on eggshells, not wanting to upset me. Maybe they didn’t know how to talk about it to me, and I certainly didn’t know how to do it. And so, yeah, it was kind of danced around in a way. I mean, I’m sure my mom, even my dad at a few points, were like, "Are you okay?" And obviously, I’d be like, "Yep, I’m fine." Not fine, but it’s just... things were just different back then. 

Interviewer: What would you say--I know this is different from your experience--but do you have any insight on advice for family and friends on how they could support someone who’s maybe had an injury that survived?  

Respondent: Yeah, check on them constantly, all the time--and you don’t have to go deep with it, you can just be like, "I’m thinking about you, I’m worried about you, I hope you’re okay," just to let that person know that everyone around them is aware of what’s going on and is there for them. A lot of people can’t necessarily talk about trauma and stuff for a long time, but it’s good to know that everyone around you is aware of it and thinking about you.