2 inch snubbie

Back in the early dim dark years of my police experience, I was standing at the dispatchers window one morning when I overheard a very veteran officer discussing a firearm he had for sale. A little 2 shot derringer in .38 Special. Imported by FIE, the marketer of Saturday night specials inexpensive revolvers.

So, I asked him what he wanted for it, and he said $20.00. I figured it was worth 20 bucks, so we traded money for gun, standing right there. What a little piece of crap this pistol was. It had an exposed hammer and a 2-shot double barrel that locked underneath the barrel by a mechanism that can only be described as functional. I fired it a couple of times, then dropped it into a drawer, effectively forgetting about it.

Fast forward 20 years or so, to 2003. That little pistol still resided in my drawer and I was retired. I carried it as a pocket pistol. I figured two shots were better than no shots and if I had to use it, I'd be at spitting distance anyway, so target accuracy wasn't a concern. I loaded it with a good low-pressure hollow point load that wouldn't destroy the pistol when the trigger was pulled.

Milady and I decided to go to New Orleans to meet her brother. Brother lives in Miami and was bringing another couple north on the annual pilgramage. The plan was to go to New Orleans, eat some oysters, drink some beer and do the tourist thing. As an afterthought, I dropped the little derringer in my pocket before I left home.

I kept that pistol in my pocket while we did the French Quarter. After dark, we were on Canal Street when the ladies decided to duck into a tee-shirt shop. I walked in with them to savor the air-conditioning. Brother and friend stayed outside the shop to take in the street scene. Brother is a natural extrovert. He has never met a stranger. I watched him through the plate glass store front, then realized that he was talking to people on the street. He had attracted the attention of a group of street people and their demeanor put my cop radar on intense alert.

There were four of them and they were moving around Brother like sharks. The leader of the group was holding Brother's attention while the rest of the group circled, looking for a way in. This was quickly becoming a bad scenario.

I took the little derringer out of my pocket and cupped it in my hand along my pants seam, then walked outside to Brother. "Hey, Brother. The ladies need you inside."

The leader of the street hoods looked at me like I had horns. "What's up with you, man?"

I turned my hand slightly so that the thug could see the pistol. "Nothing. We're doing a little shopping and the ladies need us inside."

His eyes widened slightly as he saw the pistol. "Yeah, well, time for us to get going too." He motioned with his head and the group left, walking northwest toward Rampart.

Brother never saw the pistol.