Officer Dick and I were driving down Montrose when we were flagged down at about the 3700 block.  A frantic man was shouting:  “He has a gun.”  Dick and I broadcast the information we gathered from the hysterical victim and went to the front door of a moving company.  Drawing our weapons and counting 1,2,3, we rushed through the front door.  Sitting at a desk just five feet inside was our offender.  Dick and I instinctively moved right and left, all the while aiming our pistols at the seated target.  In unison, we continued to shout, “Show me your hands,”  and after a few very, very long seconds, the offender placed his hands on top of the desk.  Sitting in his lap was a cocked .45 caliber automatic.  My gun still trained at his head, Dick reached in and recovered the fully loaded 45.  After handcuffing the subject, Dick and I came to the realization of just how close we came to killing this person, or even worse, being shot by this guy.  In situations like this one, training and experience kick in and your body just seems to go on automatic pilot. You look back and try and decide how and why you made certain decisions and you realize it was all done subconsciously.

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