An early morning in May, I went for a routine walk to enjoy the sunrise and make some photographs in a nearby forest preserve area. On the same route I had gone out on, I returned and found an object in the road. I didn’t know what it was at first. In disbelief, I made a photo on my iPhone, to send to my Dad who confirmed it was indeed a loaded handgun in a holster. He called in a report to the county police, who drove to the site within a 15 minutes. Upon the officer’s arrival, my dad met him there, and the owner of the gun had returned after noticing it was gone when he arrived to work. The owner explained the handgun must have been on the top of his truck, as he backed out of his driveway that morning to take his daughter to school and go off to work. The handgun must have slid off and fallen in the road, where I found it. This man happens to teacher of the concealed carry course in the area. No citations were made. No human is perfect, and this experience perfectly highlights the shocking changes in the quiet, small-town neighbourhood I grew up in.
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