Click here to download the catalog as a PDF file. To view this site you need Adobe Flash Player and your browser must allow javaScripts. Go here to get the latest Flash Player. Commander Gilmore Keeping It In The Family F or Stephanie Martinez, it was just another busy Friday night workin’ at a pizza place in Denton, Texas. Nothing more threatening had occurred than a pizza-sauce spill or more exciting than a rogue slice of pepperoni skittering across the floor — until a gang of armed bandits stormed in screaming orders, making threats, announcing a robbery and being generally obnoxious. Then things got kinda “festive,” y’know? Stephanie was highly entertained and a teensy bit scared when a fellow employee faked out Robber Number One with a feint and then slugged him on the jaw so hard it not only knocked him out cold, but caused his wig, phony moustache and Elton John sunglasses disguise to fly off. Stephanie looked down at the unconscious bandit honcho, sucked in her breath as her eyes got saucer-wide and exclaimed something like, “Daddy? Is it YOU?” Yup, it was dear ol’ Dad. As the circling cuckoos cleared around his head, Daddy scrambled to his feet and led his gang in a headlong retreat back out the door. Denton police nabbed ’em soon after, with the help of a witness who followed their getaway truck from the scene. And, of course, there were more surprises in store for our sweet Stephanie: the other members of “The Not Wild Enough Bunch” included her mom and her husband. At that point, one might suggest little Stephanie was in on the conspiracy, but no. During questioning, her family declared Steph indeed knew her kinfolk were gonna pull some kinda heist somewhere that night, but had no idea her place of employment was the target. She was released, and the others hit the slammer. Well, somebody has to be home to feed the cats, right? Illustration by Nick Petrosino Talkative Dead Guy When a police captain in Caledon, South Africa, was accused of stealing rubber floor mats and hubcaps from a car that had been badly damaged in a fatal accident, he had a quick and reasonable answer. Captain Dawid Jullies explained that the owner of the vehicle had given him permission to take those parts. A departmental hearing cleared Jullies and not only returned him to duty, but promoted him to acting commissioner of the Caledon station. Then a family member of the vehicle’s owner asked an embarrassing question: How could the vehicle’s owner have given permission when he was killed in the accident? Hmm . Wait, it gets even stupider. The obvious follow-up response was along the lines of “Before he died, he said, ‘Sure, take ’em.’” But the relative had yet another fact to embarrass officials with. The owner, George Morkel, had been decapitated in the accident. In most places, folks would simply assume that either a decapitated person could not speak, or, at least, is not able to 22 NOVEMBER 2008 give a coherent response to inquiries about bequests of auto accessories. Decapitated people have never been known to be very talkative. Local officials are said to be taking another look at the incident. Paperwork Problems All of you know — or should know — what New York City’s Mayor Michael Bloomberg thinks of gun dealers, right? Yeah, basically, he wants you drawn and quartered and your family sold into slavery if you fail to cross a t or dot an i. He thinks the mountains of paper you generate for gun sales ought to be flawless. Now let’s see how — or if — he responds to a recent audit of his own police department’s firearms “control systems.” A story in The New York Times reported on the audit, which is public information. It revealed that about one-third of all firearms seized and impounded by NYPD could not be, well, located. Paperwork showed them being turned in and locked up, but when auditors tried to match descriptions and serial numbers on the docu- ments to firearms in “secure storage,” the guns were nowhere to be found. What I’d like to know — and this was not addressed in the article — is, have any of those “missing guns” been seized on the street again since their original seizure — and perhaps even disappeared again since then? Good luck dealing with this one, Bloomie. Hear That? It wasn’t opportunity knockin’ at the door. No, it was officers of the Kansas City Drug Task Force, serving search warrants at trailer #18 of the trailer park. It was the usual dope-warrant service time, an hour or two after midnight, so officers knocked briskly at the door and loudly announced their business. Those druggies! They’re such sleepy-heads! While the cops at the front door of trailer #18 waited tensely for some response from within, the officer playing “rear guard” on the backside of the trailer noticed something funny. Strangelookin’ packets were being furiously flung out the bedroom window of the Read SI DIGITAL www.shootingindustry.com