I was throwing a ball in my backyard in Pompano Beach with my 10-year-old son when he went up on the roof to get the ball. I heard pop, pop, pop, and I felt like I had stepped on an electric wire and that my leg weighed a thousand pounds. I yelled to my son, “Call 911, I’ve been shot.”
It turned out a neighbor (in his 50s) three houses away was drunk and high on pot, throwing a pool party with his friends, when he decided to take out his semiautomatic rifle and begin randomly shooting. He had a very lenient judge, who just gave him one night in jail and took his guns away. I sued him, and his first lawyer tried to say I shot myself, when I don’t even own a gun! Anyway, I ended up leaving that home that I loved because of it and moving into a condominium where more women lived and I felt safer.