A Glock handgun lies on a hardwood floor, its black matte finish speckled with crimson. A somber crime scene investigator carefully picks it up and places it into a plastic bag marked “EVIDENCE.” The soldier to whom the gun belonged is placed into his own bag, the ragged sound of the zipper being pulled up bringing a harsh sense of finality to the room, where in the corner his girlfriend sits, in too much shock to cry.
The soldier, who suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, is taken away by the coroner. But what happens to the gun? It was an unwilling participant in this suburban tragedy, like the seventeenth pill in a bottle or a length of rope.
If Congress has its way, this gun will not remain homeless, its new plastic home lining a shelf in some evidence warehouse. It will certainly not face the gun death penalty, destruction after a family member of the deceased does not want to give it a good home.
No, this gun will be able to find a second life, protecting its new owner.
“When a gun is created, we believe that it deserves protection from the moment that gun’s manufacturing process begins,” said bill co-sponsor Steve King (R-IA). “From the moment the material hits the mold, that is a life, afforded all due protections under the law.”
Another of the bill’s co-sponsors thinks the law is a natural extension of Biblical principles.
“In the Bible, Jesus said to turn the other cheek,” said Michelle Bachmann (R-MN). “He also said that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. If we retaliate against these innocent guns, who did nothing but work the way they were created, we are just as guilty of destruction as the person who pulled the trigger.”
