Kick Ass: Selected Columns

by Carl Hiaasen

  But while Tamiami's reputation as a handgun dealership was assured, other gun shops around the country were getting even bigger headlines by diversifying into more exotic weapons, such as AK-4/s. Pistols, it seemed, were becoming passe.

  Still, most experts believe that a modernized Tamiami Gun Shop will reopen and be as popular as ever. "Hey, if they don't sell another Glock, it won't matter," Sgt. Fuqua said. "In this town you can make a killing off bullets alone."

  Sad reality: Armed society means cops die

  April 30, 1990

  Every time another police officer is murdered, anguished voices rise to ask: When will it stop?

  The answer is, it won't.

  We live in an armed society where people shoot each other every day for the most mundane and empty-headed reasons. Sometimes they shoot cops.

  To us, the murder of any police officer seems senseless, but it's not. Some creep with a pistol in his car decides he doesn't want to get arrested, so he starts shooting. Makes perfect sense to him.

  These are not clear-thinking, highly principled, law-abiding citizens. These are dirtbags. They've spent most of their sorry lives doing dumb crimes that got them in trouble, and then repeating their mistakes at every opportunity.

  Maybe they come from broken homes. Maybe they've got a drug habit. Maybe they grew up in a bad neighborhood and never had a chance. Whatever the reasons, there are thousands of these losers on the streets of South Florida, and plenty of guns to go around.

  Several weeks ago there was the funeral for Broward Sheriffs Deputy John Greeney III. This week it's Metro-Dade Officer Joseph Martin. Inevitably there will be another, and another after that.

  Few countries in the world bury so many slain police officers. Such crimes are rare in Great Britain, Japan, even Canada. The only place more dangerous than the United States is Colombia, where drug gangsters slaughter policemen by the carload.

  The most telling thing about Officer Martin's murder is how ordinary the suspects are.They're not big-time bank robbers, federal fugitives, or ruthless cocaine assassins. They're burglars and car thieves, 19 and 20 years old; common crooks whose rap sheets show no history of armed violence.

  What happens in that frantic millisecond when panic, or rage, or pure cold-bloodedness takes control?

  If we could peek into the mind of whoever pulled the trigger on Joseph Martin, we would probably be stunned by the simple, impulsive nature of his decision. There you are in a stolen automobile, late at night, pulled over by a squad car. And there's the gun on the seat ...

  We are raising a generation of young criminals who shoot first and think later. They are fascinated with deadly weapons and casual in their killing. So far this year, the Dade State Attorney's Office has handled 45 cases of murder or attempted murder in which the defendant was age 17, or younger.

  Just this weekend, a police gang task force raided two homes in North Dade and seized seven guns, plus a silencer; two juveniles, an 18-year-old and a 19-year-old were arrested. What they intended to do with all these firearms is not known, but they probably weren't planning to start a museum.

  It's common to blame the parents, blame the schools, blame society for letting these kids slip away. Some of them can be rehabilitated, some of them can't. The main thing is, they're out there in growing numbers.

  Most criminals begin their careers as two-bit house burglars, and in South Florida that means you deal in guns. For sheer terror there's nothing like glancing through a week's worth of burglary reports to get an idea of the arsenal on the streets—AK-41s, AR- 15s, UZIs, MAC-11s and every type of handgun imaginable, all stolen from the bedrooms, car trunks and glove compartments of regular citizens.

  Some of these weapons will end up killing somebody, maybe even a cop.

  This is the terrible irony: In trying to protect ourselves and our families, we've armed the very outlaws whom we fear. Some of them are crazy, some of them are mean and some are just plain stupid. Many are barely old enough to drive.

  We should hardly be surprised when one of them snaps, for whatever reason, and takes aim at a badge. The only surprise is that it doesn't happen more often.

  Pass all the tough crime laws you want. Build bigger prisons. Heat up the electric chair.

  It won't stop the killing. We are too late for that.

  In tourist haven, mayor sticks to guns

  June 27, 1990

  Another reason to plan your family vacation for somewhere else: Miami Beach Mayor Alex Daoud has armed himself with four semiautomatic handguns and a night sight.

  The ostensible reason for Daoud's private arsenal is "personal protection." Presumably the night sight is necessary in case the mayor is attacked by bats.

  Like many of Daoud's recent dealings, the weapons acquisition raises questions about ethics. The companies from which he received the guns just happened to be competing for a big Miami Beach Police Department firearms contract. The firm that supplied him the most guns—three Sig Sauers—got a $153,000 city contract, with the help of Daoud's vote.

  Maybe this is just another weird coincidence in a long string of weird coincidences that have put the mayor at the center of a federal investigation. Maybe he's just a friendly guy who can't say no to a good deal. Or maybe he's a shameless moocher and shakedown artist.

  This is something for prosecutors to decide. An equally disturbing question for the public: Does South Florida really want another of its elected officials armed to the teeth?

  Tourism officials can't be ecstatic with the revelation that the mayor of one of our major destination cities turns out to be a gun freak. The truth is, Daoud is not alone in his paramilitary passion. Remember when Joe Carollo was investigated for owning an Uzi?

  The trend escalated when Rep. Al Gutman posed fetchingly for an NRA advertisement with his beloved .380 Beretta. Finally a South Florida officeholder was honest enough to admit that he didn't feel safe in his own community without a reliable semiautomatic.

  Gutman's full-page appearance in national magazines made it respectable for other local politicians and civic leaders to arm themselves, often with unfortunate results.

  One night a few years ago, Miami Mayor Xavier Suarez left a handgun inside a briefcase on the front seat of his car. It was stolen by a thief. Acting U.S. Attorney Dexter Lehtinen has a fondness for more powerful weapons, particularly AR-15 assault-type rifles. He has lost two of them to local burglars.

  And last year the former chairperson of the Greater Miami Chamber of Commerce, Dorothy Weaver, reported that an Uzi was stolen from her bedroom. I don't know if Uzis are now the standard-issue weapon for all Chamber of Commerce members, but it would be interesting to do a survey.

  If South Florida is such a safe and desirable place to live, why are all these big shots packing heat?

  A clue, in Mayor Daoud's case, is the special serial number engraved on his new Glock handgun: 007. The man thinks he's a secret agent!

  Former Beach police chief Ken Glassman recounted how Daoud frequently asked to practice on the police firing range. When the chief balked, Daoud proudly produced a photograph of himself firing automatic rifles on a gun range in Israel.

  The Israelis (at least those who had never visited Dade County) must have been quite amazed that the mayor of an American city would be so proficient in military skills. Watching Daoud in action, they could only conclude that Florida must be a much more exciting place than they had heard.

  Let's assume that Daoud imagines himself to be a real secret agent. Why did he get four handguns? Even James Bond carried only one at a time. Maybe the mayor wanted a gun for both ankles and both hips, in case he's ambushed by enemy commandos at Penrod's.

  The image of a heavily armed Alex Daoud cruising the streets is unsettling. Current gun laws can't even protect us from known felons and deranged maniacs, much less macho mayors.

  Politicians shouldn't be trusted with anything more lethal than a gavel.The way things go, it won't be long before a burglar steals Daoud's he
avy artillery, which will then be turned against the innocent citizenry of Miami Beach.

  Let's just hope it doesn't happen during a travel agents' convention.

  Live or rerun, murder is now mainstream TV

  January 31, 1993

  Not so long ago, parents were being warned that their kids could sneak out and buy black-market videotapes of people being murdered.

  Today, snuff films have gone mainstream. You can watch them on the nightly news.

  With a Miami TV crew looking on, Emilio Nunez Jr. emptied a semiautomatic handgun into his ex-wife. The tape of the killing was broadcast repeatedly by local stations, often accompanied by insightful freeze-frame analysis.

  Like everyone else, I sat and watched. Pop, pop, pop. As domestic homicides go, it was noteworthy mainly for the ironic location (a cemetery), and for the forensic convenience of a camera capturing the crime.

  Naturally, the Nunez tape became a hot property. TV stations all over the country picked it up. Some chose not to show the shooting, but many did. This was followed by the usual wrenching debate about violence on television—what's newsworthy, what's gratuitous gore.

  Down here, there wasn't much discussion about whether to air the footage. It was a legitimate local story, extreme even by South Florida's diseased standards.

  Now the crime is old news, but you can still catch the video almost any evening on local TV. Nunez's capture, his extradition hearing, his arraignment, an interview with his family—each new event is an excuse to cue the murder tape one more time.

  Most stations considerately have cut the part when Nunez stands over his ex-wife and pumps slug after slug into her body. Yet some stations continue to show the jarring first shot to the head, punctuated by the cries of the interviewer.

  More chilling than the murder itself is the fact that most viewers, myself included, are tired of seeing it. The Nunez tape has been broadcast so often that it no longer shocks. It should, but it doesn't.

  Television has given America a unique intimacy with real-life violence. In 1963, Lee Harvey Oswald was shot on live TV It was the first murder my generation ever saw, and for a long time it was the only one. There was no such thing as Insta-cam.

  The Zapruder film of John Kennedy's assassination now has been viewed by practically everybody, but for many years it was kept from the public because it was considered too horrible. These days nothing is too horrible.

  Newscasters warned us that the Nunez video was graphic, but I don't know a soul who didn't watch it. Crime scenes always draw a crowd; hit-and-runs, holdups, lunatic sniper sprees. Video is the next best thing to being there.

  Satellites feed the morbid craving. As if there's not enough carnage here in Florida, we now get nightly recaps of the bloodiest mayhem committed across the nation. Inundated visually, our shock threshold rises with each killing we see, whether live or on tape.

  Gruesome at the time, the grainy black-and-white footage of Oswald's murder today seems prosaic. By contrast, Emilio Nunez's graveyard frenzy unfolds vividly, closeup and in living color. Even so, the impact wears off after the 13th or 14th viewing; probably sooner, for our kids.

  We've seen so much that we've built up an unhealthy tolerance. Numbness sets in until there's a fresh fix. And we never need to wait too long.

  On Thursday, police released the videotape of a Broward store clerk shooting a robber in the head. The incident occurred months ago, but who cares? They showed it on all the channels, again and again. As a bonus they played the 911 call, too.

  Exciting stuff, this reality. They're doing it to death.

  Great gift ideas for very young snipers-to-be

  December 19, 1993

  With all their caterwauling about juvenile violence, wimpy liberals in Washington have succeeded in intimidating toy dealers just in time for Christmas.

  The country's largest retailer, Toys-R-Us, has decided to stop selling a Sega video game called "Night Trap."

  I haven't played "NightTrap," but the plot seems fairly routine: Vampire home invaders drain the blood of nubile co-eds by drilling into the veins of their necks.

  Fun for the whole family, right?

  But after pantywaists in Congress complained about the "graphic" content, Toys-R-Us yanked the video off the shelves. In an atmosphere of such panic, what'll they ban next—toy guns?

  I raced to the nearest Toys-R-Us outlet to find out. With great relief I can report that the store's arsenal remains fully stocked and ready for action.

  For that future cocaine cowboy in your house, several toy Uzis are still available for about $3.99. My favorite is the Neon Uzi Squirter, a "clip loading" water gun that supposedly sounds like an authentic assault rifle.

  If that's too much firepower for your trigger-happy tyke, start him out with something smaller—the .357 "Make My Day" Magnum, manufactured by Real Tech and sold for $7.99. The Clint Eastwood quip stolen for this toy's promotion actually referred to a .44, but that's quibbling. The "Make My Day" Magnum features "real firing sounds" and a rotating cylinder.

  Kids growing up in big cities are much too streetwise to be amused by replicas of dinky Wild West six-shooters or clumsy muzzle-loaders. The shelves of Toys-R-Us amply reflect the precocious interests of today's urban youngster.

  H. T. Toys sells an AK-47 water rifle that's unbeatable at $2.99, while Combat Force offers an adorable M-16 for $4.99.

  A word of caution: According to the instructions, the M-16 is unsuitable for children under 3 years old—not because it's morally questionable to let toddlers play with toy weapons, but because they tend to disassemble them and swallow the plastic parts.

  Not to worry.

  The motto of the toy gun industry is: Safety, safety, safety! So many kids brandishing realistic-looking toy pistols have been shot by police and homeowners that many manufacturers have switched to neon colors, to avoid future confusion.

  For example, the venerable Daisy Company offers a Buffalo Bill Rifle with an orange cap on the barrel to make it "easily identified as a toy." The gun promises a "loud bang," but the label warns: "Do not fire it closer to the ear than one foot."

  Santa, are you listening?

  Strolling the aisles, it's impossible not be tempted by the M-60 Automatic Assault Lazer ("Try Me! Pull Trigger"). For $19.99, your pint-size holiday sniper can hear the same pop-pop-pop that real snipers do.

  And the extra ammo belt makes a cool stocking-stuffer.

  No armory would be complete without a selection of 9mm semi-automatics. Toys-R-Us sells a model resembling the one used so successfully by the madman on the Long Island commuter train. Made in Macau ("Loaded—Try me!"), it's a bargain at $5.99 … and there's no waiting period. Yet.

  But parents seeking the ultimate in toy weaponry should train their sights on "Survivor Shot." For $29.98, Junior gets a high-tech rifle and a battery-operated headset to be worn during simulated firefights.

  The toy's major selling point is plastered in bold letters on the box: "When you're hit, you feel it! "That's right—the sting of a bullet, without the permanent brain damage.

  Now we're talking fun.

  Take pride in hometown arms maker

  March 26, 1995

  Those sappy bleeding hearts are at it again. I guess they won't be satisfied until they've completely destroyed the free-enterprise system.

  Their latest whipping boy is one of South Florida's most prosperous and innovative companies, Navegar Inc., maker of handy low-cost Intratec assault weapons—and my write-in nominee for Miami Herald Company of the Year.

  Forgive a little hometown cheerleading, but Miami doesn't have much to brag about in the way of light manufacturing. Intratec has put us on the map!

  Its Tec 9, Tec-DC9 and Tec-22 were among the most sought-after street guns in the United States, according to the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. For legions of budget-minded gang members who couldn't afford a MAC-10 or an Uzi, the Tecs became the ideal travel companion.

  "High spirited," accord
ing to Navegar chief Carlos M. Garcia, whose business was booming (literally).

  But wouldn't you know it—as soon as a hard-working entrepreneur makes the big time, those candy-ass liberals come along and try to ruin him.

  Last year's ban on 19 types of assault rifles targeted the Tecs, and forced Navegar into an inconvenient re-engineering of its product line. Lost because of picky new regulations were such helpful features as the threaded barrel, for attaching silencers.

  Undaunted, the resourceful Garcia devised a new generation of legal weapons that look and perform much like the old ones, but with fewer bullets.

  Then, last week, another ambush: The families of victims murdered in 1993 by a homicidal lunatic sued Navegar for negligence.

  OK, so it's true that Gian Luigi Ferri walked into a San Francisco office and shot 15 persons, killing nine. And it's also true he was firing two Tec-DC9s, made right here in Dade County. And, yes, each gun was capable of shooting 32 rounds without being reloaded.

  But how was Carlos Garcia to blame? Who could imagine that anyone would ever use a cheap, rapid-fire, easily concealed semiautomatic for violent purposes?

  The California families contend that the Intratecs have no sporting use, and are promoted with criminals in mind.

  True, sales brochure bragged that the Tec-DC9 was specially coated for "excellent resistance to fingerprints." There's probably a perfectly good explanation—maybe Intratec customers are neatniks who don't like smudges on their grips.

  Garcia has patiently explained that his guns are meant for recreational "plinking" at tin cans "or objects like water jugs." He says they also seem popular with survivalists bracing for another world war.

  Just as Ford knows that some of its cars will end up in fatal accidents, Navegar has become aware that some of its firearms are not being used to shoot water jugs.