Kill or Be Killed: The Law of Self-Defence

• Author: David M. Paciocco
• Pages: 269-278

CHAPTER

12

Kill

or Be

Killed:

The Law of

Self-Defence

J

his

bedroom door. "Must

be

Stephanie

and her

boyfriend/'

he

thought, "but what

the

hell

are

they doing?"

A

splinter

of

early morn-

ing

light

was

leaking through

the

crack between

the

curtains.

He

could

just make

out the

time

on the old

alarm clock beside

the

bed.

Six

forty-

five.

Seven hours before,

his

daughter

and her

boyfriend

had

gone

to bed

in

her

upstairs room

after

the

three

of

them

sat up

talking. Pintar pulled

himself

up and

took

the

morning's

first

shuffling

steps,

stiff

and

unsteady.

Still squinting,

he

entered

the

hall

to see

what

was

going

on.

What

he saw

drove

him

from

the

loosening grip

of

sleep. Standing menacingly

in

front

of

him was

Alan Ross,

a man who had a big

bone

to

pick with Pintar.

His

face

was

ruddy

and his

eyes were heavy.

"What

are you

doing

in

here, Alan?

Get the

hell out."

"Bullshit.

I'm

here

to

finish

this off."

Ross,

turned strong

by

years

of

farming, advanced, taking

a

swing

at

Pintar.

Pintar's instincts took over.

He

ducked

and

countered, catching

Ross

with

a

punch

to the

face.

Ross reeled backwards.

The

screen door

flew

open

as

Ross

fell

against

it,

then

sprawled onto

the

porch outside.

Pintar

slammed

the

door

and

threw

the

bolt.

He

hurried into

his

bedroom

and

jumped into

his

clothes, sure that

the

fracas

was not yet

over.

Ross,

who had

regained

his

feet, pressed

his

face

against

the

broken window

frame

and

shouted: "Let's

get

this over with. Come outside.

Get the

fuck

out

here. Joe,

I

want

to

talk

to

you.

You

sonofabitch,

I

killed your cock-

sucking

dog and I'm

going

to

kill you."

Joe

Pintar

had no

need

to

wonder

why

Ross

was

after

him. Neither

did

Stephanie,

who had

been awakened

by the

commotion. Pintar half-expected

this moment

to

arrive.

He had

known Alan Ross

and his

wife,

Rose,

for

more

oe Pintar stirred in his bed.1 He had been awakened by noises outside