My father and I rode in a car to an old two-story frame house which my father owned in Portsmouth. He was having the house repaired so he could rent it. When we arrived, both front doors of the house were standing open. I told my father that I had just been in the house the day before and that I had shut both doors; so it looked as if someone might be trying to steal something from the house.
I walked up to one door and looked inside. I recalled that a brand new wooden door had been on the doorway leading to the upstairs, but the door was no longer there. I could also see back into the kitchen and I saw that the kitchen table had been turned over. I walked back outside and told my father I needed to borrow his gun. I thought whoever had been in the house might still be in there.
My father pulled out a small hand gun, aimed it toward the ground and pulled the trigger. The first two times he pulled the trigger nothing happened, but the next two times, the gun fired. My father said he wanted to clean all the old shells out and reload the gun for me. When he pulled the cartridge out and emptied the shells into a metal can, I could see the two shells which hadn't fired. My father said he wanted to show me how to clean and load the gun. He then filled up the cartridge with shells, put the cartridge back into the gun and handed the gun to me.
We both walked back into the house. When I told my father I thought I could hear someone walking around upstairs, he indicated that he thought he could also hear something. I walked back outside, while my father continued looking around inside. Outside, I discovered another man who was a friend of my father's. His name was either Ed or Charlie and he was probably around 60 years old.
Part of the house was two-story and part was one-story. The roof on the one-story part could be reached from a second story window. I thought whoever was upstairs might try to escape by climbing out the window onto the roof, and suddenly I saw a man stick his head out the window. He moved quickly and came out the window onto the porch roof. A second man quickly followed. Both men were probably in their 40s, had graying hair and simply looked like homeless derelicts who had been using the house to sleep in.
I immediately hollered for the men to stop, but they ignored me and began running across the roof. I began firing my gun at them. One man stopped and stood still as if he were surrendering, but the other man had a hand gun himself and he began firing at me. I returned fire, but my bullets didn't seem to be traveling fast. In fact I could see the bullets as they flew and they seemed to be traveling in a crooked line. The gun the other man had seemed to be a larger caliber gun and it was making a louder noise than mine.
I stood partially behind a telephone pole as the firing continued. I even began firing at the man who was standing still, thinking he made and easy target. And I thought a bullet hit him. Suddenly I realized the old man, my father's friend, standing next to me had been hit. He fell to the ground.
I continued firing, but somehow both men managed to slide off the porch and out of my sight. I finally got onto the porch roof and ran to the edge, but all I could see were some green trees growing in an overgrown valley. The men had escaped.
I walked back to the window out of which the men had come and I saw and old blanket or sleeping bag which the men had been carrying, as well as a few other personal belongings. I started to look through them, but then stopped, thinking I might disturb any fingerprints which might be on the things.
I walked over to the old man who had been shot. He had a small patch of blood on his right temple. I was unsure whether he had been grazed or whether a bullet had actually gone into his head.
I got off the roof and walked into the house. My father was apparently unaware of the gun battle. I told him he needed to go outside immediately because his friend might be dying.
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