After my thumb pressed the release, the nine-millimeter pistol barrel slid free. I pushed the legal paper to the side and began to clean my automatic pistol. After it was cleaned and reassembled, I slapped my head in stupidity. I pulled out the ammunition magazine and wiped it down. Most people forget this, which is why the police always check it for fingerprints. The doorbell rang. It interrupted me from sliding the magazine back into place. I was surprised to see a Matthews policeman after I opened the door.
“Are you, Mr. Dunn?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know a Joann Carter?”
“Yes, but we broke up.”
My heart skipped a beat when he asked, “Do you own a gun?”
I rolled my head toward my desk, where my pistol lay out in the open. “Yes. I own a nine-mill. Why?”
“There’s been an incident. Ms. Carter was found shot off Highway fifty-one.”
“Well, well, it wasn’t me.”
“Fine. Please follow me to the station for a G-R-U test.”
“But it’ll test positive for gunshot residue. I just came off the range.”
“Tell it to the detective. Just follow me.”
During the thirty-minute drive to the police station, I thought perhaps Joann was right that an old boyfriend was attacking her. If so, why would the cops ask me to come to the police station? It was my house that was vandalized with spray paint. My tires had been slashed three times and I had one bullet hole in my house wall. I wanted to shoot somebody but didn’t know who to target. After filing eighteen police reports maybe the police were tired of the case and just wanted to end in any way possible. In cop shows this is how they railroaded someone to jail, I thought. I began to sweat and wondered how to find a good criminal defense attorney. I was panting faster than a dog by the time we got to the police station. In the police station basement, the officer said, “Give me your shooting hand.” While he painted warm wax between my thumb and index finger, I said, “I did not shoot her.”
A voice from behind called, “We know.”
The plainclothes detective had black glasses, a receding hairline, and an automatic pistol strapped to his side, with three additional magazines. “You know? Why am I here?”
The detective flipped up a page from his folder. “Routine. Ms. Carter was shot with a woman’s handgun. Twenty-eight caliber. Men use bigger calibers.”
“I own a nine-mill.”
“We know.”
“I also just came off the range a few hours ago. This G-R-U will test positive.”
The detective did not look up from the report. “The ballistics on Ms. Carter doesn’t match her story. The angle of the bullet’s entry wound is impossible, according to how she described the incident. Since she is a nurse she would know how to fire a weapon and not hit any vital organs. We believe she shot herself to get your sympathy.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. You were her white night. Something would happen to her and you came to the rescue. It was a way to make you pay attention to her. It happens in cases of severe fatal attractions. Have you filled out a restraining order?”
My mouth dropped open. The detective confirmed Joann’s assaults and stabbings she claimed people were doing to her, were being accomplished by herself. It also confirmed that the harassment my bride to be experienced and her ending our relationship, was caused by Joann. It was all a big con game to get my sympathy. My affection.
After months of sustaining house and car damage, I had felt bad about avoiding Joann. When something happened to her, such as car trouble or a physical assault, I no longer ran to her aid. I stopped taking her to the hospital or letting her stay in my house while I was away working. I’d referred her to the police. She still kept stopping by my house, so I got the papers for a restraining order. “Detective, I filled out the first two pages before I went to the range this morning. I intended to complete the last page after I cleaned my gun.”
“Okay, file it as soon as possible. She’s in the hospital, asking for you.”
After the officer removed the wax from my hand, I let out a lung full of air. My blood boiled. Any sympathy I had for Joann, evaporated. “Detective, I lost my car insurance, my house insurance, and my fiancée due to the shenanigans of Miss Carter. Tell her from me the next time she shoots herself, to put the gun in her mouth.”
Epilogue
After the shooting in 1993, Joann Carter was arrested in Raleigh, North Carolina, for "obtaining items under false pretense" and sentenced to one year in jail. I suspect she was stalking my ex-fiancée. The last report on her was that she was working in Bowling Green, Kentucky.
The woman I intended to marry never spoke to me again, and she married another man.
I am married and have three dogs.
*****
In 1987, James Dunn was hired by Piedmont Airlines (later American Airlines). At the same time, he was also a member of the Air Force Reserve based in Charleston, South Carolina. He rose to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and honed his writing skills during his secondary duty as an Awards and Decorations Officer. In 1995, he retired from the Air Force Reserves, and in 2017 he retired from American Airlines.