A permit to packBy Eric J.S. Townsend
Real estate broker Dian Brigman pulled her car to the curb outside a downtown Greensboro office building, hoping to get a look inside for a client interested in buying the place.
As the High Point resident unbuckled her seatbelt, stares from two rough-looking men standing near the entrance strapped her back in.
"I didn't feel safe enough," she said. "And that's kind of pathetic, isn't it?"
A few weeks later, the 51-year-old mother of two grown children registered for a concealed-gun course at a Greensboro shooting range.
She was soon loading the clip of a Smith & Wesson pistol. There was no use taking a class if she couldn't hit the paper target hanging 21 feet away.
Brigman raised her gun, took aim and squeezed the trigger.
Long debate continues
On one side of the debate stood gun rights advocates, those who said police couldn't be relied upon to always protect citizens. Firearms could.
Then there were the anti-gun forces, opponents who predicted violent street justice and vigilantism run amok.
North Carolina's concealed-handgun law, which passed the General Assembly a decade ago this summer, ended the state's longtime ban on carrying hidden firearms. But contentious debate over its effects remains unsettled.
The National Academy of Sciences in December called for more research. Several studies throughout the years appear to validate both sides of the issue.
While experts debate the merits of concealed handguns, this much is known: a News & Record analysis of thousands of state records shows proponents made at least one accurate prediction - those who receive permits follow the law.
One-tenth of 1 percent of all permits issued since the law's inception have been revoked. Though the State Bureau of Investigation declined to release what led to revocations, local law enforcement officials say most weren't because of crime.
And those who carry hidden handguns may surprise you.
They're teachers and electricians, salon owners and factory workers, bus drivers and university accountants.
"As we like to say, a concealed-handgun-permit holder is the only certified law-abiding citizen that a law enforcement officer is likely to meet," said Paul Valone, president of Grass Roots North Carolina, "The people who have concealed handgun permits by and large are very ordinary people. They come from all walks of life."
Significant change to the law last summer has once again jump-started interest in the application process. Prior to August, residents had to seek approval from their local sheriff to purchase handguns.
All residents need today is to show firearm dealers their concealed-carry permits, which are granted after exhaustive background checks.
Gun owners say the streamlined system makes North Carolina more gun friendly -- and it may be one reason why 7,600 residents received permission last year to hide handguns on their body or property, the most since an initial surge of applicants a decade ago.
Empowering a rescuer
Ricky Armstrong exited the West End Boulevard bar across from Hanes Park in Winston-Salem on a warm summer night with his girlfriend.
He almost didn't hear it. The female scream was muffled by a Volkswagen belching smoke as it passed down the street.
"Get in the car," Armstrong told his girlfriend.
As they traveled around the park, a woman darted from the brush with ripped sweat pants trailing from her legs.
Armstrong, who had recently left his law enforcement career at the Winston-Salem Police Department, stopped the car and leapt out toting a firearm.
"I don't know if it was me or my handgun, but when I finally saw him, he was doing the 100-yard dash across the parking lot," said Armstrong, 40, now a history teacher at High Point Central. "Without my firearm, I would have been less inclined to stick my head out."
The woman recovered, but investigators never found her attacker.
That was 1994. Carrying guns at the time was legal only if, like Armstrong, owners kept them in plain sight.
Dangerous precedent?
They once called themselves North Carolinians for Gun Control. That changed a few years back when organizers renamed the group the North Carolinians Against Gun Violence Education Fund.
Situated in a small office on the second floor of a brick office complex in southwest Durham, the group considers itself one of the last defenses against gun proliferation in the state.
Editorial cartoons, several of which have yellowed with age, hang from a bulletin board in the reception area. Various posters adorn the walls. One is of a diaper-clad child peering down the barrel of a gun.
"We made (North Carolina's) concealed-carry law more strict than it would have been," said Lisa Price, the organization's executive director. "In some states, almost anyone can get a concealed-carry permit."
Ten years ago, Price and gun opponents lobbied against the law's passage. Today, she said, it's harder to support the argument of potential street violence that critics once used to oppose the law.
But she said the expansion of the law - allowing permit holders to purchase guns without a sheriff's direct knowledge - sets a dangerous precedent.
A Columbia University professor in 2003 analyzed federal data showing North Carolina ranked fifth in the country for the origination point of handguns used to commit crimes.
Another report comes from Yale law professor John Donohue, who two years ago published findings showing a slight increase in crime in areas that permit concealed handguns.
People who hold concealed-handgun permits keep guns in accessible places, he theorizes. Crooks who find them during burglaries or car break-ins will use the guns for crimes elsewhere.
But Donohue doesn't suggest a ban on concealed handguns. And he agrees more research is needed.
"We know there are tons of guns everywhere in the United States," he said. "You might imagine there are times, and a few anecdotes, where someone carrying a concealed handgun with a permit has been able to help a situation."
Fending off animals
Douglas Hawkins attended the concealed-handgun course at Calibers Indoor Gun Range last fall to keep his girlfriend company. She was the one in search of protection.
Not him.
But the 48-year-old Browns Summit motorcycle enthusiast discovered a silver lining when he sat through the course at the west Greensboro gun range.
Carrying either of his two revolvers on rides would be legal once the sheriff's office granted a permit.
Legal for self-defense against dogs or wild animals. Like the canine that threatened him a few years back.
Hawkins had been riding his motorcycle when, during one of his stops, a dog came close to attacking. Hawkins now believes the animal was bluffing.
Carrying a concealed handgun alleviates future worries.
"But I would never use it unless (the dog) bit me," he said.
And the weapons course that he attended as a favor?
"I would suggest anyone take that class," he said. "It's really helpful."
Those who carry
Concealed-handgun permittees come from all backgrounds -- but some backgrounds appear more often than others.
Nine of every 10 permit holders in North Carolina are white. Men make up more than three-quarters of permittees, though shooting range owners report interest from a growing number of women.
In Guilford County, figures for permits per capita are higher outside the Greensboro and High Point city limits.
And, as gun proponents boast, most people with concealed-handgun permits stay out of trouble with the law.
"The problem with firearms is when people are not licensed and are engaged in criminal activity," said Sheriff Sam Page in Rockingham County. "Those are the people who victimize (the) county, and those are the people we want to focus on."
According to SBI statistics, of the 1,300-plus permits issued since 1995 in Rockingham County, five were revoked as of mid-January; two were temporarily suspended.
Guilford County's data looks similar. Sheriff BJ Barnes' office has issued more than 3,400 permits since passage of the law; seven permits have been revoked as of mid-January.
Police officials also acknowledge violence never rocked the state.
Barnes said the only thing of concern to authorities are changes to the law pending in the General Assembly.
Legislators this spring introduced a bill that would allow victims of domestic violence to get an emergency permit without a concealed-handgun class.
"It's a volatile time in the lives of these folks, and to put a handgun in someone's hand may be asking for trouble," Barnes said. "Especially if they're not trained."
Dealing with changes is still a way off. The law as it stands, however, gives law enforcement officials little headache.
"The concealed-handgun law has been a success," Barnes said. "I supported it in the beginning, and I still support it."
Qualifying round
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Small holes appeared on the silhouette target 21 feet away -- the maximum distance allowed under law for shooting an attacker in self-defense.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Dian Brigman fired the last round from her clip. She motioned to Carl Abbe, the owner of Calibers and today's course instructor.
"Self-defense," she remarked to Abbe, who reached to inspect the target. "Self-defense."
If her bullets found the mark, and Brigman finished the concealed-carry course scheduled for the next six hours, a permit to hide a gun in her purse could be only weeks away.
No more worry about travel to secluded locations for work, she said, and no more nervousness when visiting properties "guarded" by suspicious characters.
Of the 50 rounds fired from the .22-caliber, 44 hit the target inside the red oval over a make-believe heart. All 50 fell within the acceptable range for a concealed handgun permit.
The real estate broker held up the paper target for Abbe. Light passed through the holes.
"What if I want to put this on my front door?" she said, a smile crossing her face. "It'd probably be better than 'Beware of the Dog.'"
http://www.federalobserver.com/archive.php?aid=9757.
* FW Note:"...a concealed-handgun-permit holder is the only certified law-abiding citizen that a law enforcement officer is likely to meet..."I like that.
