Here’s a story I thought you might enjoy. My dad told it to me yesterday. I’ve heard it a few times, but I always like hearing it. It’s a true story.

My grandpa Ron was a cop in Chicago a while ago—I think in the 1980s was when this happened.

It was a slow night. He picked some guy up downtown for something stupid, shoplifting or public urination.

He took him down to the station. He leads the guy to a room—not an interrogation room, just some empty room to talk to him in. He was probably going to lecture him and let him go. My grandpa must have not done a very good job patting him down, because when they got in there and my grandpa shut the door, the guy pulled a gun on him!

My grandpa, 6 foot 2 and built like a cement mixer, pulls out his own gun, points it at the dude, and says, “Give me that”. The guy is significantly smaller than him, and also terrified, so he hands him the gun without a struggle.

Then my grandpa looks the guy in the eyes and says: “If this gun is loaded, I’m gonna have to kill you with it!”

The guy is trying to stay calm, but he’s sweating and shaking like a leaf. My grandpa pops the chamber open, and sure enough, it’s loaded. My grandpa laughs and says, “All right, son, you sit down in that chair. I’ll be just a second, and when I get back, I’m gonna kill you.” The guy is so scared that he sits down in the chair without putting up a fight. My grandpa walks out of the room, locking the door behind him.

My grandpa walks down the hall to another room and puts the guy’s gun in a lockbox. Then he comes back and opens the door. The guy got a window open, and was trying to jump out! He would have fallen a few stories, and it probably would have killed him. The dude would have rather killed himself than get shot by my grandpa!

My grandpa Ron felt so bad about it that he sat there with the guy until he calmed down. They had a cup of coffee. Then he let him go—without his gun.