Alarm clocks sometimes work their way into your dreams, but the sound of breaking glass seldom does. A slumbering Judith Kuntz of Indialantic found the sound to be an invigorator of slack muscles, a sharpener of sleepy mental faculties, and a honer of visual acuity.
She was able to grab her revolver and fatally nail an intruder from ten feet as he came through her bedroom door.
Not bad for an old lady.
A similar Cape Coral story found in a book called "The Best Defense." (sorry for long post)
http://www.aobs-store.com/reviews/tbd.htm
This is a tough lady:
"Get a Bigger Gun"
Another incident described by Waters accents the importance of having a firearm of sufficient caliber to stop an attack at once when necessary. Sammie Foust, a 49-year-old divorcee residing in Cape Coral, Florida, had been given a .25-caliber semiautomatic handgun by a friend who insisted that she keep it for protection. At the time, according to Waters, Foust's "father had told her it was too small. 'Get a bigger gun,' he said. 'Wounded dogs will bite you. Dead dogs don't bite.'" Sadly, on the morning of May 10, 1996, she would "learn the truth of that adage."
At 6:23 a.m. (the time is etched in her memory) an intruder broke into her home, rushed into her bedroom, and proceeded to slash her throat with a box-cutter knife. Waters writes: "As Foust quivered on the bed, he placed the blade between her eyes. Then he brought it down in a slashing motion. It gashed her check," after which he "placed the top of the blade against her forehead, then slid it down to rest on her nose." He demanded money, but was not satisfied with the $400 in her purse (it was all she had). He demanded jewelry, but was also angered by the small amount in her jewelry box, blurting: "You know I'm gonna kill you! So you might as well give it up. Die easy or die hard, b****!"
It was then that Foust concluded that her gun, which lay beside a stack of pillows near the headboard of her bed, might be her only hope. She directed her assailant to a box containing only costume jewelry, which gave her an opportunity to grab the gun (which she had never fired before; she had never fired any gun).
She pulled the trigger, but her tormenter seemed unfazed. The shot from the small-caliber weapon, Waters writes, "sounded no louder than a cap pistol. There was no explosion, no bang, no percussion. She wondered if the gun had even fired."
The intruder charged and began repeatedly striking her face. She was able to get off another shot. And another. And as they struggled from the bedroom to the dining room, she fired the fourth, and last, bullet. Waters continues: "He mustered ... [a] savage blow to the back of her head, and she went down, slamming her face into the tiles. Her head exploded, and she lay exhausted beneath her attacker."
During an interview, Ms. Foust told Waters that she felt she could no longer resist. She began to recite aloud The Lord's Prayer when a "blow to the face nearly broke her neck." Then the effect of the gunshots began to ebb the man's strength. As related by Foust, "I said, Lord, I can't fight anymore. I've lost my fight. Forgive me of my sins, and forgive this man for what he's done." But at that moment, "I felt him release his last breath."
It took the injured and exhausted woman ten minutes to wiggle free. When the police arrived, one of the officers was unable to pry her fingers from her gun. "My knuckles were swollen up," she told Waters. "I was holding it so tight. The grip I had on that gun was what kept my attacker from getting it from me. Even as big a man as he was, he couldn't take it away."
Her assailant, James Wayne Horne, was a drug addict with a lengthy arrest record. He had been struck by all four shots (in the mouth, heart, abdomen, and groin). The problem was not Foust's aim, but the lack of adequate firepower to stop him instantly.
Foust's injuries were appalling. "Her attacker had knocked out four of her teeth, which she'd swallowed. The bones in her gums were crushed, and her left cheekbone was fractured. An eyeball was hanging out of its socket. Her nose was broken, and her larynx was fractured. The good news was that the cuts made by the knife were superficial." Her "eye was surgically reattached and permanent damage was minimal," and bottom line, she was alive!
The headline of one news account of Foust's horrendous ordeal read, "Woman owes her life to gun." But she disagrees. "I owe my life to the strength God gave me," she told Waters, "and one thing He gave me was the good fortune to have a gun."
Posted by: Bill from INDC at June 1, 2005 09:45 AMWow. Great story, Bill. Thanks.
About the grip she had on the gun: I read an article once about a woman who'd gone through an attempted abduction in a parking lot. She grabbed onto a lamppost with her arms and legs. He was able to pry her arms loose, but her legs locked, and he couldn't get her aloose even after repeatedly beating her in the head.
She later said that she knew that if she let go, she was dead.
When the police and ambulance came, they had to inject her legs with muscle relaxants to get her to let go of that post.
It's interesting what the body can do in these extreme situations.