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My 76-year old widowed grandmother lived in Detroit in the 1970s, with a roommate. One night a 21 year-old drifter started to break down her door. Despite her little dogs barking and her roomate screaming, he kept on coming. So my grandmother pulled out an S&W revolver, and holding it in her arthritic hands, fired once and put him down permanently. The moral of the story is a firearm makes a frail elderly woman more than equal to a determined young and strong perp with bad intentions.
This is exactly what our right to bear arms is for, God bless you dear woman.