Chapter 2 - Richard Raises His Gun Inside the Stuffed Chapel
The golden afternoon sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows of Oakridge Memorial Chapel instantly shattered into a nightmare of panic and flying debris.
Mourners shrieked in absolute terror as wooden splinters rained down across the altar and floral arrangements.
Richard’s face twisted from calculated calm into a mask of feral, desperate rage as he brandished the heavy black semi-automatic pistol.
“Back up! I am warning every single one of you to stay away from that casket!” Richard roared, sweeping the barrel across the terrified crowd.
Grieving neighbors and family friends stumbled backward over folding chairs, desperately shielding their children with their bodies.
Twelve-year-old Ethan ignored the weapon entirely, dropping his heavy hammer to the floor with a metallic clang.
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He lunged forward past the shattered wood, his small hands tearing urgently at the silver duct tape binding his mother's face.
“I’ve got you, Mom. You’re safe now,” Ethan sobbed, his fingernails clawing frantically at the adhesive strip.
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