Category: Cops
The year is 1981. The nation rejoices over the safe return of hostages from Iran. Ronald Reagan is our newly minted 40th president, the Oakland Raiders won the Super Bowl and even though “The Tide Is High,” Blondie is still holding on to the number-one spot on Billboard’s hit list.
But none of that matters. What matters is that the girl of your dreams, who you’ve been diligently pursuing for years, has paid you no attention. Instead of accepting this tacit rejection, you believe her cold shoulder is only because you’ve failed to make a gesture grand enough to get her to see you clearly. But that’s all about to change. You’re about to make it big, and that girl will finally notice you, because you’re about to bring your favorite movie to life for the world to see.
That movie is Taxi Driver …
That girl is actress Jodi Foster …
And your big plan to win her over? Shoot the f*cking president.
Thus begins — and ends — the story of the .22-caliber RG-14 revolver. At least insofar as mainstream pop culture is concerned. But RG Industries was the U.S.-based division of German firearms company Rohm Gessellschaft which split from its parent company Rohm GmbH in the 1950s. Said parent company was actually known for producing chucking tools before starting the Gessellschaft imprint as a diversification into firearms, which then spawned Miami-based RG Industries in 1968.
The American RG Industries specialized (if you can call it that) in producing revolvers and semi-autos in mouse gun calibers like .22LR, .25ACP, .32S&W, and .38 Special. The guns existed in relative obscurity until March of 1981 when the protagonist of our introduction, John W. Hinckley Jr. used an RG-14 revolver in an attempt to assassinate President Reagan.
As a result, police officer Thomas Delahanty (who was also shot by Hinckley) sued RG Industries. The case was thrown out, but the legal troubles and notoriety compounded with a follow-up case in 1985 involving a convenience store clerk who was also shot by an RG gun. This led to RG Industries folding in 1986. The German side of RG was sold to Umarex in 2010, to what practical end we’re not sure. But no fruits of that acquisition have made it to American shores, as best we can tell.
Fast-forward to a couple of months ago, when we came across this piece of obscure gun history in a consignment case at The Hub AZ in Tucson, Arizona. The wheelgun in question was nested between a police trade-in Glock and an STI Tactical 4.0, and we almost missed it. But as fate would have it, we wound up bringing her home for a meager adoption fee of $200.
THE AWESOME
The single-action trigger on our sample was shockingly smooth with a very consistent 4½-pound break. Other than that, and being relatively inexpensive in a market full of panic buys and indefinite back orders, this gun just doesn’t have much going for it.
THE AWFUL
Because we were so surprised by the single-action pull, and the universe seeks balance, the double-action trigger mode is exactly as awful as one would expect from a revolver of this class. Also, don’t count on reloading this gun in any kind of a hurry. The ejector rod under the 1-inch barrel isn’t an ejector at all. It’s a pin that screws into the back of the frame that must be unscrewed and completely removed for the cylinder to be popped out.
Empty cases must then be plucked out individually by fingernail and fresh rounds threaded in before the cylinder is closed and the retention screw wound back into place. Finally, the barrel is an odd two-piece design consisting of the bore itself sleeved by a shroud that includes the token front sight. Directly behind the sight blade is a hole that, apparently, is supposed to have a pin of some kind pressed into it. But the pin is missing, which means you can pluck the barrel shroud, including front sight, off the gun at will. And sometimes by accident.
Also squarely in the “awful” column is the so-called Devastator “exploding ammunition” that Hinckley used in his botched attempt to woo Ms. Foster. The rounds essentially consisted of a second primer embedded in the nose of the bullet meant to detonate on impact and cause immediate fragmentation. The rounds didn’t work as planned — although its noteworthy that, at the time, it was a big enough concern that the surgeons who removed one of these rounds from President Reagan were wearing flak jackets while they worked.
CONCLUSION
The RG-14 is a macabre-conversation-starter of a coffee table gun. When people see it in your safe, you’ll be able to tell them all about the one thing it’s known for. It has little to no redeemable value otherwise, but that’s OK. Some pistols are destined to serve as relics of history to be passed down along with their stories. While the story of the RG-14 isn’t a particularly happy one, it’s nonetheless an obscure, but important piece of Americana.
RG INDUSTRIES RG-14
Purchased From: The Hub (Tucson, AZ) // thehubaz.com
Caliber: .22LR
Weight Unloaded: 15.2 ounces
Capacity: 6 rounds
Length: 5 inches
Barrel: 1.5 inches
Price Paid: $200
Throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, certain pistoleros stand out as either famous or infamous wielders of the wheelgun, be they exhibition shooters, or in this case, a serious practitioner of fighting pistolcraft. Periodically on Wheelgun Wednesday, we will take a quick look at such personalities. This week, let’s find out a little bit more about NYPD’s Jim Cirillo.
Serious Shooting
For those not familiar with the name, Jim Cirillo was one of the members of New York City’s “Stakeout Squad”, a team tasked to tackle the explosion of violent crime plaguing the city back in the 1960s. Jim and his colleagues would use the old-fashioned analog version of predictive analytics, otherwise known as good detective work, to choose a business that was likely to be robbed and “stake it out.” This involved waiting either inside or outside the location for the robbery to begin. Often it ended in gunfire, with the perpetrator/s dead or wounded.
Cirillo’s techniques and persistent practice with his wheelguns paid serious dividends. Over his career, he was involved in over 20 gunfights, a lot of them resulting in the offenders’ deceased. Due to his gunfights taking place in the cramped corner stores common to NYC, Jim had to be hyper-aware of his target and what lay beyond it. His instinctive shooting style paid dividends, however, and hitting criminals, not bystanders was a quality of his.
Weapon of choice
In the 1960s, the issued revolver of the day for the NYPD was S&W’s Model 10 chambered in .38 Special. Cirillo would regularly carry at least one Model 10, usually having another one on him as an authentic “New York reload”. Another revolver he was fond of was a 2″ Colt Cobra, also chambered in .38 Special. Cirillo would modify his primary revolver by wrapping the grips in electrical tape to better match the contour of his hand. He has written in his books that the gunfights were so fast and in such close quarters that when he ran out of ammunition in his primary revolver, often it was faster to draw his backup revolver and resume firing.
Colt Cobra. Image Credit: Gunsamerica
Colt Cobra. Image Credit: Gunsamerica
Further Reading
Though firearms and especially ammunition technology has dated some of Cirillo’s equipment preferences, his career story and firearms techniques are a wealth of information from someone who has been in so many gunfights in close quarters, and is highly recommended reading for anyone who carries a firearm, be it for work or self defense. Though Jim passed away a number of years ago, his wisdom lives on. If you haven’t yet, I highly recommend you read one of the biographies of this wheelgun wizard.
Hallelujah! The legacy media has finally started covering ATF’s unconstitutional war on the country’s gun dealers, which the pro-gun media has been denouncing and warning the public about for more than two years.
The Wall Street Journal published a story Friday morning titled: “Hundreds of Gun Dealers Lose Licenses Under Biden Administration Crackdown.” Nine hours later, FOX News posted their take of the WSJ story titled: “Gun industry cries foul after hundreds of gun dealers lose licenses amid Biden administration crackdown.”
This friends, could be a very good thing.
The more scrutiny the ATF receives, the more difficult it will be for them to continue violating our constitutional rights. But remember that ATF officials are masters of hoodwinking and gaslighting the media and the public. Their responses to the WSJ and FOX show that ATF’s leadership are up to their old tricks. Clearly, they’re trying to downplay the significance of what they’ve already done, and what they continue to do every single day.
Everchanging Rules
In an emailed statement to Fox News, ATF said it is merely following the law:
“Federal Firearms Licensees are often our first line of defense against gun crime and are often a source of critical enforcement information that helps law enforcement identify straw purchasers and disrupt firearms trafficking schemes,” ATF Spokesperson Kristina Mastropasqua said. “FFLs that willfully (emphasis mine) violate the law, however, must be held accountable. ATF conducts inspections to ensure compliance with applicable local, state, and federal laws and regulations and to educate licensees on the specific requirements of those laws and regulations.”
For those familiar with Joe Biden’s weaponized ATF, the word “willfully” should jump off the page.
In a story published in May 2020, one expert warned that the ATF had redefined “willful” to bolster Biden’s zero-tolerance for willful violations policy. Now, because of the new definition, if a dealer makes a simple clerical error, they can lose their license because the new definition of willful states that the dealer knew the law, but willfully chose to violate it anyway – regardless of whether it was a simple oversight, an error by an employee or a minor paperwork mistake.
“They have twisted negligence into willful,” the ATF expert said. “These are not uncommon errors that we’re seeing. Things happen.”
Revoked vs. Surrendered
Both FOX and the WSJ cited ATF revocation data that claimed there were 122 Federal Firearm License revocations during the last fiscal year, which began in October.
First, I need to point out that ATF data – any ATF data – is immediately suspect. I’d rather rely on an 8mm Type 94 Nambu for home defense than any numbers ATF publishes. There is no doubt that far more then 122 FFLs were revoked, but this is not the point.
After a series of embarrassing losses during their own revocation hearings, ATF switched up some of its tactics. Now, in addition to formal revocation proceedings, ATF agents try to scare the hell out of a gun dealer they’ve targeted, hoping they will “voluntarily” surrender their license and avoid hearings and reams of paperwork.
This tactic worked when ATF sent a SWAT team to the home of a gun dealer in rural Oklahoma and handcuffed him in front of his 13-year-old son, but it failed when they threatened a longtime gun dealer in Texas with unspecified federal charges, who instead opted to take them to court.
An FFL is an FFL to the ATF. It doesn’t matter how they get their hands on them, but any truthful data should also include the number of FFLs that were “voluntarily” surrendered.
ATF-Speak
When covering anything ATF, particular attention needs to be paid to their legalese. Often, when ATF claims a gun dealer broke the law, it’s not really a law. It’s actually a rule the ATF came up with themselves. More than a few courts have chastised the agency for trying to be judge, jury and executioner. They’ve violated real laws by creating and enforcing their own rules, which carry the full weight of a federal law, such as fines and lengthy prison terms.
ATF still can’t grasp that Congress creates laws, not the administration or any federal law enforcement agency. They’re headed for a spanking from the Supreme Court that will be legendary in its scope.
Written Statements
When a public official or the agency they represent have nothing to hide, they take questions. They submit to interviews. They give out their cellphone numbers. They make themselves available to the media and the public. After all, they work for us, or at least they’re supposed to.
Nowadays, ATF leadership is hiding deep in a bunker. They don’t respond to emails, phone calls or ever FOIA requests. When pressed hard, they’ll sometimes send a written statement, but only after it’s been approved by teams of lawyers and communications staffers.
This alone speaks volumes about the ATF. It says they don’t believe in accountability to the public, which pays their salaries. It also screams that they have a lot to hide – far more than what’s already been uncovered.
I hope the legacy media’s interest in ATF’s shenanigans continues – the more, the merrier. Besides, ATF has become bloated with lies and is long overdue for a massive investigative enema.
This story is presented by the Second Amendment Foundation’s Investigative Journalism Project and wouldn’t be possible without you. Please click here to make a tax-deductible donation to support more pro-gun stories like this.
About Lee Williams
Lee Williams, who is also known as “The Gun Writer,” is the chief editor of the Second Amendment Foundation’s Investigative Journalism Project. Until recently, he was also an editor for a daily newspaper in Florida. Before becoming an editor, Lee was an investigative reporter at newspapers in three states and a U.S. Territory. Before becoming a journalist, he worked as a police officer. Before becoming a cop, Lee served in the Army. He’s earned more than a dozen national journalism awards as a reporter, and three medals of valor as a cop. Lee is an avid tactical shoote
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A 54-year-old woman living just outside of Tucson, Arizona didn’t really want to have to shoot a neighbor to tried to force entry to her residence, but the man didn’t give her many options. Living by herself, she didn’t have anyone else to help her repel the would-be intruder. She did have a handgun, though, and he availed herself to the great equalizer.
The would-be intruder, a 42-year-old registered sex offender named Jayson Magrum, apparently didn’t care that she’d gotten her gun and told him to stop. Maybe he didn’t think she’d use it. She even fired a warning shot as he tried to crawl in through a window. Even after the shot, Magrum reached in and tried to disarm the woman.
That’s when she shot him. At point-blank range, the pistol proved itself as a great equalizer, ending the attack. The sex offender collapsed after a few more steps and will re-offend no more.
KOLD/Gray News has the story . . .
A convicted sex offender was shot and killed by a woman while trying to break into her Arizona home last week, officials said.
The Pima County Sheriff’s Department said 42-year-old Jayson Magrum died in the Aug. 11 shooting at the home in Three Points, just outside of Tucson.
According to the sheriff’s department, Magrum was trying to break into a woman’s home. She told him to leave, but he did not stop.
Officials said the woman then grabbed a gun and fired a warning shot. Magrum then tried to disarm her, and he was shot and killed.
Fox10 Phoenix had some additional details:
The incident happened just after 2 p.m. on Aug. 11 near Garvey and Pyle Roads. Investigators say 42-year-old Jayson Magrum tried to break into a 54-year-old woman’s home. The woman was home alone and yelled at Magrum to leave, but he allegedly continued to try and break into the home.
“The female armed herself with a handgun and fired a shot out of a window to attempt to scare the male away,” the sheriff’s department said.
Magrum allegedly reached inside the home and tried to take away the gun. The woman then opened fire, shooting Magrum.
Magrum collapsed in the driveway and died at the scene
Once again, a successful defensive gun uses brought to you by the Founders and the right to keep and bear arms. The only thing that stops bad people with evil in their heart is a good guy or good gal with a gun. That is all.
Suspect killed
FOX 5 NY’s Stephanie Bertini has the story.
NEW YORK CITY – A man fleeing New York City police officers on a motorcycle died Wednesday after a sergeant hurled a plastic picnic cooler at his head from close range, causing a violent crash, authorities said.
The sergeant, Erik Duran, was suspended without pay just hours after the death of Eric Duprey, 30, in the University Heights section of the Bronx, police said.
Surveillance video viewed by The Associated Press showed Duprey driving the gas-powered motorcycle on a sidewalk toward a group of people, including the sergeant, who was not in uniform.
As he approached, the video shows Duran pick up a red object — the picnic cooler — and throw it. Duprey is struck hard. He loses control, then is tossed toward a tree as the motorcycle veers into the street. The bike smashes into a metal barricade before coming to rest against a parked car.
Duprey was pronounced dead at the scene minutes after the crash, which happened around 5:30 p.m.
Police said Duprey tried to flee on a friend’s motorcycle after he was caught selling drugs to an undercover police officer. The sergeant was standing on the sidewalk as part of the “buy-and-bust” operation carried out by the Bronx Narcotics Unit. Police declined to specify what drugs Duprey was accused of selling.
Reached by phone, Duprey’s mother, Gretchen Soto, told The Associated Press the police narrative was “all lies,” insisting her son was not selling drugs or trying to evade officers. She said she was on a video call with him from Puerto Rico on Wednesday when suddenly the screen went dark.
“He wasn’t fleeing. He wasn’t fleeing. He was just on the motorcycle talking to me on the video chat. And he passed by that place when all of a sudden the call cut out,” she said in Spanish.
She said Duprey lived in the Bronx, worked as a delivery driver and had three children, ages 3, 5 and 9.
“They left three fatherless babies,” Soto said. “I’m going to get justice.”
New York Attorney General Letitia James’ office, which has jurisdiction to probe deaths involving police, is investigating. The NYPD said it is cooperating.
“The NYPD is committed to ensuring that there will be a full, thorough, and transparent investigation of this incident to determine the facts and to take the appropriate steps forward,” the department said in a statement.
A message seeking comment was left with Duran’s union. The Daily News first reported the incident.
Duran, a 13-year veteran of the department, joined the Bronx Narcotics Unit last September. He has been recognized by the department dozens of times for what it deems excellent and meritorious police service, according to a police personnel database.
Duran’s disciplinary record includes a substantiated complaint last year for abusing his authority during a stop, according to the city’s Civilian Complaint Review Board.
The Los Angeles Police Commission has given the police department approval to use a special nonlethal device on Metro trains and buses.
If approved by Metro, officers would carry the BolaWrap, a handheld device that fires a lasso-like cord that wraps around a person’s legs or waist. The wraps are equipped with hooks that are supposed to sink into clothing and restrict a person’s ability to move until police can detain them.
The device was introduced in 2019 as a less than lethal way of dealing with people in mental distress, as a way to avoid hurting people, but being able to restrain them, officials said.
LAPD officers in Hollywood and the Central Division have not used the BolaWrap that much in the last few years, but Chief Michel Moore wants to change that and give the device to officers who patrol the Metro’s buses and trains as part of a year-long pilot program.
Officials with the police department met with Metro Wednesday afternoon in order to discuss the idea. Just a few hours later, Metro released a statement that read in part:
“The LAPD will be scheduling a demonstration of the device for Metro as an alternative to use of force in the system and will share its proposed plans to pilot its use on the Metro system, for Metro’s consideration.”
While it’s unclear when that demonstration might happen, officials say the BolaWrap is most effective when it’s used on targets that are less than 20 feet away. When it’s launched, the Kevlar tether stretches to about 8 feet wide just before impact, which could present problems inside a narrow bus or train that’s crowded with seats and poles.
It may be a tool better suited for use on station platforms and the escalators coming and going, KTLA 5’s Rick Chambers reports.
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The BolaWrap shoots a Kevlar tether meant to wrap around a person’s waist or legs and temporarily restrain them without serious injury
The BolaWrap shoots a Kevlar tether meant to wrap around a person’s waist or legs and temporarily restrain them without serious injury.
However, during a 2020 pilot program with the nonlethal device, LAPD data shows that officers only used the device nine times in eight months, and was deemed “effective” in six instances.
Just last weekend in Koreatown, LAPD deployed its newest robots after a man armed with what appeared to be an assault rifle, but was an airsoft rifle, fired on officers outside a restaurant and then barricaded himself in a parking garage stairwell. The suspect, who was wounded during the exchange, was later taken into custody.
The pilot program, if approved by Metro, would last about a year.
I’ve warned you guys. Weird things happen in gunfights. You should expect an Elbonian satellite to fall on your head, or a gopher the size of a grizzly to erupt from the ground at your feet. I’ve encouraged you to believe your eyes, shrug off bizarre twists, and stay focused on the threat. Some of you shared your own stories of bizarre “moments ’midst mayhem,” and a whole bunch of you asked for real-world examples. A few readers were even dubious about the possibility of such strange happenings happenin’. So, for you doubting Thomases, here are some examples from my private stock.
NUCLEAR .38 SPECIAL ROUNDS?
I was a rookie patrolman when my senior partner and I were called to back up a pair of robbery detectives. They planned to kick in a door at a felon-filled flophouse hotel, crunch some cockroaches and yank a sleepy stickup-shooting suspect outta his grimy sheets. His room was on the second floor of this converted century-old residence, and a rickety stairway led directly from his crib down to a garbage-littered lot. That’s where Davey and I were posted — just in case Plan A went South when the “dicks” kicked the front door. It did.
We weren’t quite “positioned” when multiple muffled gunshots preceded Hairball Harry’s rapid exit out onto the landing. There was a flash of light as the door banged hard against the rail, and both Davey and I thought it was a muzzle flash and gunshot. Davey was standing in front of me with his trusty 6″ S&W Model 10 aimed at Harry. He squeezed (or jerked) the trigger — and the stairway landing seemed to explode, with a hurricane of splinters and dust billowing out toward us as simultaneously, the entire stairway screeched, groaned, and collapsed to the deck.
I pushed past Davey when a second after that, a ground-floor back door flew open and two skivvie-clad bed-headed dudes with pistols in their mitts staggered outside, blinded by the clouds of dust, shouting stuff like “COPS! They’re usin’ grenades!” and searching for targets. Using some ungentlemanly language, I convinced ’em of the inferiority of their tactical situation. Good thing they didn’t fight — my partner was still standing there, frozen, with his revolver a hand’s-breadth from his nose, staring incredulously at the muzzle. He was lost in his own world, wondering how a lead 158 gr. SWC could blow up a stairway and two landings. Finally, I had to grab the gun and gently awaken him.
The gunshots were Hairball Harry’s response to his door gettin’ kicked. The dicks had sidestepped, and were occupied with straightening out a pair of pucker-factor-induced “wedgies.” That flash was the bulb of an outside light’s last gasp as its fuse blew out. The once-heavy wooden beams and planks of that stairway were virtually hollow shells filled with a century’s worth of termites and wood-powder. It simply imploded under Harry’s weight. He was unconscious, suffering multiple injuries, snoozin’ in the wreckage.
The Big Diff between me an’ Davey was that previous combat experience had taught me stuff blows up and weird things happen in gunfights, and you have to keep your head in the game.
ALLEYWAY ANTICS
A patrolman pal of mine had an armed dope dealer cornered in an inky-black blind alley. They were casually trading occasional shots, waitin’ for backup to arrive, when suddenly a huge supernova light came on, a door swung open, and the alley was instantly filled with laughing, leaping, twirling cheerleaders, complete with pompoms, ponytails, big bells on their shoes and those cute little kick-skirts. Dudes! Wanna talk weird here? The entire pep-an’-cheer outfit from a local college had just finished a late photo-session on a theatre stage. The best part? As the cheerleaders danced an’ advanced down the alley past my pal, the dope-dealer tried to sneak out with ’em!
“Unbelievable,” my buddy told me; “Here’s this dreadlocked dude wearing a Rastafarian cap and a filthy M-65 (field jacket), skipping along between cheerleaders, still holding a Beretta 92 in one hand. Skipping!” Rasta-man didn’t get away, and nobody got hurt, but my pal said it was an ugly scene. “The shrieking and screaming hurt my ears worse than the gunshots did,” he said. “Never jump out from behind a dumpster and point a pistol anywhere near a buncha cheerleaders.”
DON’T SHOOT WHITEY: HE’S MINE!
“Tommy D,” another badge-wearing brother, is well known for his morbid fear of dogs. They tend to bite him, fiercely and frequently. He had chased a biker bad guy into the back yard and the two were faced off pointing pistols at each other, when outta the shadows waddled an irritated overweight Welsh Corgi, who commenced chewing Tommy’s ankle.
Distracted but undaunted, Tommy and Biker Bill continued discussing whom oughtta throw down whose howitzer when suddenly, a little white Pit Bull pup ran between Biker Bill’s legs and skidded to a snarling stop in front of Tommy. That’s when I arrived — just in time to slap leather and watch in horror as T.D.’s eyes saucered and his shaking gun dropped to point at the Pit Bull!
I was a half-second short of blasting Biker Bill when he flung his gun to the grass and screamed, “Don’t shoot Whitey! He’s mine!” I’ll leave the detailed analysis to you guys. Just watch out for grizzly-gophers and Elbonian satellites, okay?