They had come for me and shot me and I was sitting there, butt-naked full of bullet holes thinking I was going to die, as I was looking down at my body watching bullets dance in my belly. I was dying and I knew it. Just a few moments ago I was running down the hall with my .45 in hand. I had heard screams. I started to get dressed and had one foot in my pants and was hopping around. Then I heard gunshots. I dropped my pants and grabbed my pistol, which I kept in the nightstand. I then heard my son scream, "Why did you shoot her, why did you shoot her." I heard that and thought intruders shot my wife. I was still coming down the hallway. Then I saw him. I had no idea who this guy was. All I knew was that he was on my son. I got there just in time to see Jacob being shot. The man had put the gun up against my son and shot and blood sprayed out of his backside. This wasn't a movie where you could pause it or fast forward. It was my life. Here I was, sitting there dying because some prick came into my house with a gun. I had been shot by an intruder, but not just any intruder. This one wasn't some thug off the street, this one was a man sworn to protect and serve--he was a cop. He certainly wasn't acting like one. Then it came to me. I knew why he shot me. This shooting was no accident. He wasn't there to execute a search warrant. He was there to execute us. Those were the words of Dave Lantry as he described the incident to his lawyer after he was shot, his son was shot, and his dog was killed by tribal police on December 6, 2006. This is his family's horrifying tale of how they survived the day the county deputies and FBI came for them.
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