And now I live in fear in this Florida, USA. I’m reluctant to go out of the house because I know at some level that some person might object to my walk, my looks, my clothing – something – and shoot me dead claiming I made that person fearful for their life.
We live by the Code of the Six-Gun here, but we call it “Stand Your Ground”. Dozens of homicides (75 by latest count) have been excused on this Florida because our state chooses death over life. Our local newscasts more often than not, it seems, start out like this:
“Gunshots rang out in the __ neighborhood today and a man/woman/pet is dead.”
I can’t move. I’m too old, too poor and too limited by COPD. We have elderly pets we’ve had for more than 13 years in this house, I can’t find the will to disrupt their lives that much. So I’m stuck.
In fear.
In Florida.