Many people buy a firearm for self-defense and don’t bother to pursue training. That lack of education and experience can cause them to make tragic mistakes in a self-defense encounter. Craig Douglas, a veteran of law enforcement and well-regarded firearms instructor, says some armed defenders “get a gun, and they get their CCW—but how many actually, after that, lead an armed lifestyle?” The idea of an “armed lifestyle” means there is more to being an armed defender than just having a firearm and knowing how to shoot it. It means understanding how to work the gun, how to draw it, how to properly and safely carry it—and more importantly, how to live your life in a way that minimizes the chances that you’d ever need to fire your weapon to solve a self-defense problem. It requires a committment to ongoing self-defense training.
Legendary lawman Chuck Haggard said, “Pistols–they’re very, very simple. You grip them consistently, you line up the sights, and then you press the trigger without disturbing the first two things you did. That’s all there is to it.” But he adds, “How easy is that to actually be competent with? We have to know how best to utilize a tool, when to introduce it, and the best tactics for that.” Each of those skills requires training, and as John Farnam, president of Defensive Training International, says, “Learning how to operate the machine is just a small part of training.”
Criminal defense attorney Don West says, “There are too many decisions to be made in a dynamic situation for a defender to feel uncomfortable, awkward, and uncertain about their own ability to simply figure out the right end of the gun, get it ready to fire, and then fire it, if necessary.” By training regularly enough to develop muscle memory for the basic operation of the firearm, an armed defender frees up mental processing power to focus on the higher-level self-defense skills of understanding the nature of a potential threat and navigating a dynamic self-defense scenario.
I have learned that all self-defense scenarios are dynamic. Threats often emerge quickly. The imminence and severity of a threat can change throughout an encounter. The intentions of an unknown contact are often ambiguous. An armed defender must manage distance, consider pathways of escape, and perhaps de-escalate with verbal cues. Unless an armed defender has been exposed to tactics for dealing with these high-level self-defense challenges, they’re unlikely to be successful in navigating them. If they’re not confident in their basic skills, an armed defender might be so preoccupied with their ability to deploy their firearm, they won’t even contemplate alternative actions.
Once you have confidence in your ability to draw and fire, there’s almost no end to the opportunities for expanding your self-defense training. You can learn The Farnam Method of Defensive Handguning, or you can explore Less-Lethal Systems with Chuck Haggard. Tatiana Whitlock helps Ladies Carry With Confidence while maintaining a woman’s wardrobe. Craig Douglas instructs people on how to Manage Unknown Contacts. These courses are just a sample of classes offered by the instructors mentioned in this article, and you can find great instructors across the country.
Part of the armed lifestyle involves studying other people’s self-defense encounters and learning from their experiences. Firearms instructor Steve Moses says, “The body can’t go where the mind hasn’t been. The better trained and skilled you are with envisioning what some of these scenarios might look like, the more likely you are to avoid common mistakes that armed defenders make.” When we talked to John Farnam, he told us training is “a fantastic way to gain a lot of knowledge second hand as opposed to having to learn it on your own dime. It’s far cheaper—and probably less painful.”
For Lesson 2, we’re going to explore three cases that provide an opportunity to learn easy lessons from other defenders’ difficult mistakes. We’ll go to Deerborn Heights, Michigan, where Ted Wafer’s lack of understanding of basic gun safety led to the tragic death of Ranisha McBride. Then we’ll go back to Clearwater, Florida and revisit the Michael Drejka case, where the shooter’s misunderstanding of a key self-defense principle may have contributed to the fatal shooting of Markeis McGlockton. We’ll end in Louisville, Kentucky, where Kristen McMains survived a brutal attack despite some tactical mistakes and a near-catastrophic equipment failure.
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In 2013, a little before 5 AM on a cold November morning in Deerborn Heights, Michigan, Ted Wafer awoke to the sound of “a consistent knocking on the door,” as he explained to homicide detective Sgt. Rory McManmon. Because of the violent pounding, “the floor was shaking,” his attorney claimed at trial. Wafer looked for his cell phone to dial 9-1-1, but couldn’t immediately find it. Instead, he grabbed his Mossberg pistol-grip tactical shotgun.
“I’m trying to look through the windows,” Wafer explains to Sgt. McManmon, “but every time I look through the windows and the door, it’s banging somewhere else. So I open up the door, kind of like ‘who is this?’ and the gun discharged.” As Wafer opened the door, he encountered a shadowy figure standing there. When “the gun discharged,” it fatally struck the stranger in the head.
That stranger turned out to be a 19-year-old woman named Renisha McBride. Earlier in the evening, McBride got drunk and high with a friend. After an argument, McBride drove off and crashed into a parked car, probably sustaining a head injury. Drunk, high, injured, and confused, McBride wandered the Deerborn Heights neighborhood for a couple of hours until she came upon Ted Wafer’s house. She likely confused Wafer’s home for that of a friend or family member. Her family suggested McBride was looking for help.
At trial, Wafer’s lawyer argued self-defense, but during his post-shooting interrogation, Wafer confessed to Sgt. McManmon: “I didn’t know there was a round in there.” It suggests that Renisha McBride lost her life because of a negligent discharge—and it never would have happened if Wafer had any real instruction on proper gun handling. Steve Moses says Ted Wafer violated all four of the primary gun safety rules, which are, in his words, as follows:
- Treat all guns as if they were loaded.
- Never let the muzzle cover anything that you are not willing to destroy.
- Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on the target, and
- Be sure of your target and what is around and behind it.
Since Wafer claims he didn’t know that the shotgun was loaded, we may assume that he didn’t treat it as if it was loaded, violating the first rule. At trial, prosecutors accused him of handling the tactical shotgun “like a toy.”
Steve Moses speculates that, when Wafer grabbed his pistol-grip shotgun, he probably held it at a diagional angle, which would explain why it muzzled McBride’s head when he opened the door, violating the second rule.
Steve also suspects that Wafer had his finger on the trigger as he opened his front door. “If his hand is gripping the shotgun,” Steve says, “and he’s got his finger on the trigger, if he responded as if he were startled, then he probably clenched down on that shotgun. If you have all four of your support fingers on that grip, and your finger on the trigger, it’s almost impossible to go ahead and clinch that hand without your trigger finger also coming with it.” By that logic, Wafer seems to have violated the third rule as well.
Finally, it’s unlikely that Wafer had a clear assessment of the potential threat he faced at his front door, so when “the gun discharged,” Wafer wasn’t sure of his target, violating the fourth rule of safe gun handling.
It’s safe to say that Ted Wafer didn’t have adequate instruction on how to use a pistol-grip shotgun—if he had any at all. Steve says the Mossberg tactical shotgun is “a powerful weapon that is subject to being mishandled by people who are not really dialed in on how it should be used.” As an armed defender, you should be well-versed in the basic safe gun-handling rules, and when you choose a firearm for home defense, you should take the time to become “dialed in on how it should be used,” and that requires hands-on training.
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Having bad training can be worse than having no training at all. A debate over Michael Drejka’s misunderstanding of the 21-foot principle impacted his 2019 manslaughter trial. We explored the Michael Drejka case in Lesson 1, and you’ll recall that Drejka started an argument with Britany Jacobs because she parked in a handicapped parking space at a convenience store in Clearwater, Florida. Jacobs’ partner, Markeis McGlockton, exited the convenience store and saw Drejka arguing with her. Security footage shows that McGlockton walked briskly towards him, and he violently shoved Drejka to the ground. Drejka, a licensed concealed carrier, drew his pistol and pointed it squarely at his attacker’s chest. McGlockton took a couple of steps backwards. Drejka paused for a moment, then he fired a single shot that fatally struck McGlockton in the heart.
While being interrogated by homicide detectives, Drejka tried to justify his use of deadly force. He said, “I started drawing my weapon, and as I start leveling off my weapon, he makes his next step towards me, and … 21-foot rule … I’m on the ground already. It happened so fast, and that was that.”
The “21-foot rule” references research conducted by Sgt. Dennis Tueller of the Salt Lake City Police Department when he was trying to determine how much distance an attacker could cover during the time needed to draw, aim, and fire a sidearm—an average of 1.5 seconds for a trained police officer. In his landmark article entitled “How CLOSE is TOO CLOSE?”, which appeared the the March, 1983 issue of SWAT magazine, Tueller wrote, “We have done some testing along those lines recently and have found that an average healthy adult male can cover the traditional seven yard distance in a time of (you guessed it) about one and one-half seconds. It would be safe to say that an armed attacker at 21 feet is well within your danger zone.”
Since 1983, the 21-foot principle has been broadly misinterpreted. In an interview with the decorated Utah lawman Ken Wallentine, Tueller clarified the significance of his findings. Tueller says, “I have heard trainers use that bastardized term ‘21-foot rule’ to actually say, ‘If you shoot someone further than 21 feet away, you could be charged with homicide’ … or someone inside of 21 feet, ‘You’re justified in shooting.’ Well,” Tueller says, “there are so many other factors—the totality of the circumstances.”
Beyond the law and the basic rules for safe gun handling, there really are no hard and fast rules for self-defense. Almost every principle of self-defense is dependent on the specific situation, or as Tueller says, “the totality of the circumstances.” It is why I called this series the 36 Lessons and not the 36 Rules. It’s why the so-called “21-foot rule” is more aptly called the “21-foot principle.” When Drejka mentioned “21-foot rule” during his interrogation, he seemed to use it as short-hand to imply that, because Markeis McGlockton was within the “danger zone,” he was automatically justified in using deadly force according to the “rule.” Unfortunately for Drejka, Dennis Tueller himself says, “As far as a specific distance, the individual defending him or herself has to be able to assess the circumstances, apply their understanding of law and policies and procedures, and do what they think is necessary if they perceive there is a deadly threat.”
When McGlockton retreated by stepping backward, it didn’t really matter how close he was to Drejka because he demonstrated his intentions had changed—an attack was no longer imminent (I told you self-defense is dynamic). It is possible that Drejka’s dogged commitment to a rule—which he misinterpreted—caused his reasoning to short-circuit when the circumstances changed. The lesson for armed defenders is that when you get training, make an effort to get good training from qualified, credentialed instructors. Steve Moses says, “There’s a ton of good information out there, and there’s a hundred thousand tons of bad information, so choose wisely.” While apparently proficient with the basic skills of drawing, aiming, and firing his weapon, when it came to the higher-level self-defense skills, Michael Drejka relied on bad information and, subsequently, he made bad decisions.
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In 2016, Kristen McMains was a 25-year-old attorney working in Louisville, Kentucky. On the evening of January 26, as she left her office building, she noticed a suspicious man following her across the skywalk that connected to the parking garage across the street. She became concerned when he followed her into an elevator. Her fear spiked when she noticed he didn’t push a button. She later told reporters, “I had the instinctive feeling I was going to die tonight, unless I did something.”
When the elevator doors opened, she dashed for her car. The stranger followed. He caught up with her as she tried to enter her vehicle. According to the Courier Journal, “she was only able to get one leg inside before he tackled her, slammed her head, and stabbed her in the abdomen with a rusty serrated knife.” He forced her into the car and crawled on top of her.
McMains fought back. She fought so hard that she ripped off all ten fingernails. Overpowered and desperate to escape, McMains concocted a plan. As she told reporters, “I stuck my hand up in his face. I don’t know what told me to do it, but I lied and said, ‘I just went to the bank. I just cashed a check. I have a lot of money, but I need you to back off and I can get it,’ and I think I startled him because I kept shoving my hand, and he brought his knee back far enough that I had mobility … I am flat on my back … to reach behind me into my purse to pull out my weapon.”
McMains carried a .32 Beretta Tomcat that her father bought her for personal protection, but now, when she desperately needed it, the pistol failed to fire. She kept on squeezing the trigger over and over until, finally, a round burst out. She shot her attacker in the neck and in the buttocks, causing him to flee. Police later apprehended the attacker, 27-year-old John Ganobcik, who was charged, convicted, and sent to prison for the brutal attack. McMains, of course, faced no charges in the shooting, and she received praise and recognition for her valiant act of self-defense.
Renowned firearms instructor Tatiana Whitlock says, “The fact that she just kept at it is a testament to her spirit over her equipment. She kept fighting. She did not stop, and that alone is one of the strongest self-defense realities we try to impart to women. You fight until you win. You fight until it is over.” That said, it is possible that with a little more training, McMains wouldn’t have needed to depend solely on “her spirit” to survive the brutal attack.
We don’t know why McMains’ Tomcat didn’t fire at first. It could have been faulty ammunition. Or, as Tatiana speculates, it could have been that the firearm was, presumably, unholstered in her purse where other items or debris could risk fouling the gun’s mechanics. “We want to ensure that the loaded firearm is successfully holstered in a holster that completely covers the trigger guard and retains the gun,” Tatiana says. “One fumble or one snag on the zipper could have led to a far different outcome.” Because of those challenges, Tatiana says that “off-body carry is perhaps the most demanding concealed carry strategy that we have available to us.” If McMains had been carrying her Tomcat holstered on her body, she wouldn’t have had to make up a story about a cashed check to retrieve it from her purse—and it’s more likely that it would have fired the first time she pulled the trigger.
Tatiana also noted that, when McMains detected a suspicious person following her on the skywalk, she didn’t have to keep walking to her car. “If someone walks into an elevator,” Tatiana says, “you also have an opportunity to get out. Even if that’s not your floor. They don’t know that. So don’t be stuck in a compartment with somebody that you’re uncomfortable with. Get out and leave.” If you find yourself being followed by a suspicious person, Steve Moses suggests that you move towards a place that is well-lit and where there are more people—some place where a potential attacker will feel less comfortable assaulting you. If McMains had taken a detour back to her office rather than stepping onto the elevator, she may have evaded the violent encounter altogether. It’s a tactic she might have learned if she took a class similar to Craig Douglas’s Managing Unknown Contacts.
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When it comes to our analsys of armed defender’s actions—especially in a situation like the McMains case—Steve Moses emphasizes, “Our goal is not to criticize what this person did … but it’s the ability for someone else to look at this and learn from it.” After studying and working on self-defense cases for more than 13 years, one thing I’ve learned is that there is always more to learn.
The need for continuing education in self-defense brings us back to Craig Douglas’s concept of an armed lifestyle: it’s an ongoing commitment to carrying safely and responsibly, having the right equipment, maintaining proficiency, and conducting yourself in a manner that makes armed conflicts less likely. Steve says, “If you want to be a good golf player, you can’t just take 16 hours of instruction and then be good for the next 10 years. You need some practice.” For an armed defender, that practice could include dry-fire drills at home, a monthly trip to the range, and perhaps a couple of instructional classes each year. Some people pursue much more training. Steve says, “It’s not necessary for all armed defenders to train like John Wick,” but he does suggest that someone committed to the armed lifestyle should, over a couple of years, accrue 10-24 hours of quality training–and then keep it up as long as they intend to carry.
If Ted Wafer had sought some instruction on how to wield a pistol-grip shotgun, he probably wouldn’t have opened his front door, presumably, with his finger on the trigger and the muzzle pointed towards McBride’s face. Had Michael Drejka pursued quality training from qualified and credentialed instructors, he likely would have operated with a better understanding of the 21-foot principle. If Kristen McMains had studied tactics for avoiding potential aggressors, she might not have been forced to fight for her life in a dingy parking garage, and if she had taken something similar to Tatiana Whitlock’s Ladies Carry with Confidence class, she might have gotten her gun into play with less dramma—if she still needed it.
If you own a gun for self-defense—that is, if you are an armed defender—seek quality instruction and commit to refreshing your training regularly. Because of my friend Steve Moses’s sterling reputation in the self-defense and firearms training industry, I’ve been lucky to have access to the world-class instructors I’ve quoted here, and others I’ll be quoting throughout the 36 Lessons. If it is not practical for you to train with these elites, they’re all part of training networks made of other instructors who share their values—and all the great firearms instructors I’ve met share common values: they stress safety, proficiency, and avoidance. They all agree that proper training goes well beyond the ability to operate a firearm, and they all understand the legal consequences of making mistakes in self-defense.
