In broad daylight, in what most people would think is a very “safe place.” I live in Cincinnati, in a neighborhood where such things are considered unheard of. It’s a place where on a summer evening people are out jogging, walking dogs, pushing strollers, working in the yard, sitting on the porch or just hanging out and talking. The sidewalk is always busy. Traffic is very heavy too, cars constantly going by on the main street in front or our house.
I was on the sidewalk beside our house a bit after seven in the evening. I’d just come home, was taking stuff out of my car, putting things in the recycling bin when a car passed me by. I thought nothing of it other than to note it driving a bit fast and that was an unusual color, a bright dark lime green. It went a few doors up the street, pulled into a driveway and turned around, came back and passed me again. It stopped at the stop sign about 40 feet from me (I live on a corner lot). Out the passenger side door came a young man running straight at me. As he ran he pulled a long barrel brown revolver from his waist and stuck it in my face. It’s an odd feeling to stare down the barrel of a gun pointed at you in earnest.