Come and Take It by Cody Wilson

Author:Cody Wilson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs, Philosophy, Political, Science & Technology
ISBN: 9781476778280
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2016-10-11T07:00:00+00:00

PART VII

John

The day after Christmas, Senator Dianne Feinstein released a bill summary with a reserved gusto, a quiet solemnity that she hoped spelled finality. It was good that we were dropping the bromides and the double-talk. In ninety-four, when the Assault Weapons Ban, a part of the larger Violent Crime and Law Enforcement Act of 1994, was passed, a prohibitionist with rolled eyes could still be heard to say, “No one is talking about taking away your guns.”

Now we had a simple three-page list of what had to go.

Just before New Year’s 2013 I flew back to Austin for the day for an interview with the ATF, who recently seemed inclined to give me a manufacturing license. I had to have a business address, of course. But luckily J&B was renting me a cramped corner of the shop for about a grand a month. I arrived at our offices a couple of hours before the ATF agents would be there to inspect.

“AKs, thumbhole stocks, everything. This time they’re going for a one-feature test instead of two or three. Does your rifle have a threaded barrel? Assault weapon. Banned.”

Brent and Jackson listened as they carried the extra desk into the back office. They cleaned out the front office so that more than one person could sit down, and so the ATF might believe that a person could work here. A brown Labrador ran panting through the office doors and back and forth between us.

“I appreciate you letting me stay another month in the place.”

“As long as you need to get the license, man. Can you hand me that?”

I handed Jackson a stack of papers from the chair beside the desk.

“Hey, this is it,” I told them, still working to get some enthusiasm. “It’s just like ninety-four, only this time the AR is the country’s favorite rifle.”

My insurgent excitement couldn’t find an audience, and I declined to follow the two to the garage door, which they lifted high to let in the brightness and crisp, cold air. I stood before the desk where I had first met the boys and took in the newly bare walls and the filthy, naked floor.

“All right, boss. Best of luck.” Jackson slapped my arm and walked with the dog to his Jeep. He swung himself up to the cab and Brent entered from the other side. As they pulled out, Brent waved good-bye.

In the next hour, two large men in collared shirts and name tags approached me outside the J&B shop. My eyes followed the bound folios they carried.

“I’m Agent Turner, this is Agent Murphy.”

I shook the hands of the men from ATF, making sure to keep eye contact with each man in turn.

“Won’t you come in?” I asked, surprised by how pinched my voice sounded.

“Today we’ll just inspect the shop and go over your checklist. Nothing too bad,” Turner said smiling, and then eyed his partner, who seemed to sigh as he began opening one of the folios.

And so began the longest formal interview of my life.

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