Carrying in Broad Ripple (Indy), GIMP Encounter

[Kirk Freeman]

My second open carry encounter happened Saturday morning, October 11, 2008.:

Saturday morning I was down to see a friend and then take her shooting at Eagle Creek. About 7:45 AM I stopped by a coffee shop on 54th before I dropped by the house. I had on a University of Texas shirt, olive SIG Tac pants and low top Columbia hiking boots. I was carrying a Les Baer 1911 in a Milt Sparks #TK60 (horsehide) and a double mag pouch, my knife and flashlight were visible as well. As it was warm and I was just going across the street for coffee, I left my baja shirt off.

I walked into the shop and walked right by a GIMP without any consideration that I was in Indy. I saw a uniform and did not think I would be hassled as no one bats an eye up here and all the other times I have open carried in Indy, no cops, deputies, or state troopers have said "boo!" to me. This time was different.

I walk in, buy two small black coffees, and talk to the countergirl about movies (I told her we were going to see "Appaloosa" in the evening). I pay and turn around to leave.

Standing in front of the door is a GIMP who asks "Sir, do you have a permit (sic)?" I answer "yes" and keep walking.

"I need to see it." I stop.

I set the coffees down and fetch my wallet from my thigh pocket and hand him my pink card. Now he is angry. His face changes to one of near rage. I have a license and He obviously isn't used to this. He now demands my Operator's License, which I leave in the wallet open to and set it down in front of him.

I ask him why he is stopping me. He yells back "because you are carrying a gun!" His hands are now shaking.

Though clenched teeth he asks for my address in Lafayette, which I give. He asks where it is and I, thinking he may be familiar with Lafayette, tell him. "I don't care, you are trying to impress me!" You can see the steam coming out of his ears (I check out and now he must make a production out of it as he is trying to provoke me into yelling or arguing with him).

He calls me in to see if I am Signal 40 (wanted on warrants). It comes back negative. Now, he is stymied and I start the "Am I free to go bird" chatter.

Nope, he needs to check my pistol. At this point the pucker factor goes off the charts. The idea of cops handling guns around me terrifies me as they possess very low gun handling skills (as I general rule).

He reaches over and pulls my 1911. He looks at it like one of those apes from 2001. He moves the pistol left and right, pointing it at my leg.

"Officer, please don't point the gun at me."

"Hey, I don't know if you have a lot of experience with these matters, but I am pointing the gun down."

I say nothing and watch him try to cycle the slide (the manual safety is still on). He tries three times and then asks me how to unlock the slide. I tell him and the same time he discovers the thumb safety.

He unloads my pistol and then examines the ammunition.

"It's Black Hills +P with 230 grain Speer bullet."

"Look, you are trying to impress me and I not impressed with you."

I shut back up and he calls my pistol in to see if it is stolen (yeah, most criminals carry expensive 1911s in custom holsters openly). He describes it as a "Bear Custom".

At this point his back up arrives, a tall, doughy young guy and a short blonde female who stays in her vehicle on 54th. The young male officer stands in front of me with his hands on his belt, the female smiles at me. The pistols comes back negative.

He asks me if I walked here. I point to my SUV and say "that's my vehicle." He nows has my pistol and magazine and is REALLY, REALLY angry, visibly shaking with anger. Before I can start the "Am I free to go" chatter, he advising that he will place the pistol in my SUV.

Against my better judgment (this guy was angry, have I mentioned this?), I ask if he can load it and then put it back in my holster. "NO!" and I get hit with GIMP spittle.

"Can I load it in my SUV?"

"NO! I don't care where you load it, just don't do it here!" If there was any quasi-reason to bounce my face off the pavement and Dutch pile me with the other cop, he would have done it right there.

We walk to my SUV (I refrain from skipping). I open the back hatch and he stops with his mouth open when he sees the back of my SUV (rifle cases, ammo boxes and my big gray Waller range bag full of pistols).

"Ummm, er, you are loaded for bear."

"No, just going shooting."

He walks back to the coffee shop and I overhead him tell the other two GIMPs (the female is now out of the car), "he must think he is some kind of cowboy."

I wave good-bye and tell them "see you tomorrow. Have a nice day." I drive off around the corner and reload my weapon.

Irony Warning: My friend and I drive to Speedway (Charlie Brown's) for breakfast where I have to open carry. Speedway Town Code:

"9.08.020 Concealed unlawful.
It is unlawful for any individual to carry a concealed firearm within the town limits. (Ord. 358 § 2, 1966)."

In the parking lot of Charlie Brown's were four (4) GIMP cars and two (2) Speedway cops. As we exit the restaurant we walk right by a very large GIMP talking to Paramedics. He says nothing. We then go to the range where the range rules (set by GIMPs) forbid concealed carry.

Of course, if the GIMP in question believes that he can intimidate me into not carrying, he is mistaken. Conversely, he has inspired me to greater activism for my civil rights.

I harbor no hostility toward the GIMP in question. I know that cops are like everyone else--good days and bad days. Maybe he was just having a bad day, maybe his wife left him last week. Could have been anything. His John Wayne attitude and anger were unacceptable, but there is little I can do about this other than complain.

We need to work together to ensure that this sort of treatment is a thing of the past for Indiana Gun Owners and that our civil rights are respected. I shall redouble my efforts.