the area about 400 yards in the opposite direction, out and away from the orchard. I exited the trees and moved into an open area with knee-high sagebrush so there would be no doubt as to who or what I was as I cradled my rifl e. I sat down and called for coyotes for about 20 minutes.
It was very quiet with my calls not even producing a single magpie, which was unusual. I decided to call it quits and stood up. I knew I had to walk back toward the orchard to get back to my car. As I approached the orchard I kept scanning for the truck
and the man in the orchard, but the trees were still dense even though they no longer held their leaves. I was about 75 yards from the orchard as I walked to the top of a small knoll to give me the best view. I stopped to take a better look when an eerie feeling came over me that something was not right. I decided it would be best to take a different route back to my vehicle. When I turned around I was hit in the lower back with
what would turn out to be a 180-grain Core-Lokt bullet fi red from a felon/poacher’s .30-06. As the bullet approached me I heard what sounded like an angry bee, then I watched my shirt snap out in front of me about two feet. As the shock wave of energy moved through my body, in an instant it felt as if I had been hit by a semitrailer truck. While my limp body fell to the ground I heard the thunderous boom of the shot, and I could not feel my legs. When I regained my breath I im- mediately pushed myself up, trying to keep my balance, and looked back at where the shot came from. I began screaming that I had been shot and I needed help. At the same time, the adrenaline was fl owing through
my body and I experienced the sensation of my face and hands being extremely hot, so I tore off the fl eece and gloves I was wearing. When I looked back I saw the man who had just sent a bullet through my body appear to be chambering another round. At that moment I knew it was no accident, and part of me wished the man was going to run to my aid. Fearing I just stumbled unknowingly into a bad situa-
tion, I immediately turned to snatch my rifl e from the snow and I attempted to put it to my shoulder. Because of the way my body was twisted under me it was diffi cult to steady the rifl e and maintain my balance, holding the rifl e to my weak side shoulder. Just as I was able to get my rifl e to my shoulder, the man retreated farther into trees. I knew I had loaded only four rounds into the magazine of my rifl e, and I needed to make them count in order to defend myself. As I lay there I heard the truck leaving the area after just
a couple of minutes or less. I searched my sweatshirt pocket for my cell phone, but it had fallen out as I dropped to the ground. I searched frantically, but I was unable to locate it in the snow. With my legs paralyzed, several thoughts raced through my mind. I thought about what life would be like from a wheel chair. Terrifi ed, I was somewhat relieved when I regained the feeling in my waist and left leg. This feeling also gave me hope. I quit screaming for help because I knew there probably
was nobody in the area. In addition, it was painful and took a lot of energy. Then I tried to get up and I could not fi gure out why my right leg hurt so bad or why it was paralyzed. All I could see was a large 50 cent piece hole about 2 inches to the right of my navel. I tried to walk about 10 yards using my rifl e as a walking stick, but it was a futile effort. Any time there
3400 Hwy 30 East • Warsaw, IN 46580 (574)267-4867
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was any weight at all put on my right leg I would fall back to the ground. Also, I kept tripping over small brush hidden from view by snow and the uneven ground. It was becoming extremely painful getting up time after time. I decided to fi re three of the four shots from my rifl e in
rapid succession, hoping someone would hear my shots and investigate. Knowing I could not make up any ground at- tempting to walk any farther, I decided to pull myself through the snow. I put the Harris bipod down on the rifl e and tried to pull myself, but it did not work well. I pondered leaving my rifl e behind. I could crawl more easily without it, but at the last moment I decided I would make the extra effort and keep it since it had one round left in it. I continued crawling for another 10 yards, and I stopped to assess my wound. As I lay on my back I could see my stomach was becoming dis- tended, and I knew from my medical training and experience I was bleeding heavily internally. As I lay in the snow I wondered about many things.
I told myself, “I cannot believe this is happening to me. I have lived a good life.” Although in excruciating pain, I ex- perienced anger and hopelessness like never before. I threw my gloves, my hoody, and my Peltor electronic earmuffs in different directions in the event I was not found till the next day. I thought that scattering these items would be a clue for law enforcement that I did not perish instantly. Maybe that was the cop in me. As I lay in the snow I stared at the overcast sky, and thought about how soft the snow was as I rested my head in it. I closed my eyes and thought about my loved ones, es-
pecially my fi ancée and about what our wedding day would have been like. I imagined what it would be like to dance with her as everyone looked on. It was then I decided to pray. My prayers were answered when I heard the sound of
a pickup about 400 yards below me, traveling slowly on an access road. It took everything I had to sit up to put my rifl e to my shoulder. As I peered through my scope I immediately recognized it was not the same truck I had spotted earlier. I took aim, shooting my last round over the top of the truck. It came to a stop and I saw the window rolling down. I could feel
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