On that terrible morning of August 23, 2000, fourteen-year-old Jessica Carpenter had been left in charge to look after her four siblings, Anna, 13; Vanessa, 11; Ashley, 9; and John, 7. Their father had left for work. Their mother had taken the car to get the brakes checked.
Jessica heard noises from the livingroom. Still half asleep, she rose from bed and walked to the kitchen. Then she froze. There was a man in the livingroom. A strange man. He was stark naked.
Jessica fled back to her bedroom and locked the door. Someone knocked. Then he knocked again. And again. Jessica picked up the phone, but heard no dial tone. The intruder had taken the receiver off the hook.
That’s when Jessica thought of her father’s gun. Mr. Carpenter had taught Jessica and the other children to shoot. Jessica had passed her hunter safety course and received her certificate at age 12. She knew that her Dad always kept a .357 Magnum in his bedroom.
In deference to California’s safe storage laws, however, Mr. Carpenter kept the pistol high up on a closet shelf, unloaded and out of reach of the children. Even if she could somehow get to the other end of the house to retrieve it, Jessica knew she would have to climb up on something to reach the gun, scramble around for the bullets and then load them. The man would be on her before she had a chance.
So Jessica climbed out the window to get help.
Too Late
Took something like another twenty minutes for the Deputies to arrive and shoot the guy.
Best regards,