When Andy Stonehouse bought an AR-15 three years ago, the showy piece of aluminum and plastic machinery triggered excitement. He bought the gun for the same reason men often buy sports cars and power tools. It’s a toy. Villains and military men wielded the large weapon in the classic action movies he grew up with like “Rambo” and “Scarface.” The rifle lifted the status of his shooting hobby from amateur to professional.
At the indoor shooting range in Centennial, the noise from the gun as he fired at a paper target was deafening. It was a loud boom, like the sound of a firework. It bordered on disorienting, even with his heavy-duty noise-cancelling earmuffs. He inhaled whiffs of gunpowder — metallic, bitter and sharp.
The gun was lighter than it looked, only about 10 pounds. But it was still intimidating with its matte-black veneer. “There’s a certain euphoria that comes with it,” said Stonehouse, a 44-year-old Centennial resident who moved to the U.S. from Canada in 1998. “It’s the same reason people like fireworks. There’s a big noise, a big flash. The actual experience is exhilarating.”
Exhilarating, but terrifying. The weight of what he was doing wasn’t lost on him. The device was designed to put a giant hole into whatever he pointed it at. After July 20, that fact became more real.
In the span of one-and-a-half Super Bowl commercials, a deranged gunman stormed into a theater, took a dozen lives, wounded more than 50 others and scarred an entire city with that weapon. It wasn’t the first time an AR-15 was used in a gruesome crime, and it wouldn’t be the last. But this time, the magnitude was different. Like the warning before a firestorm, Stonehouse could feel the early sparks of what would later erupt into a political and social controversy around gun control.
The cost of the tragedy for a gun enthusiast like Stonehouse was mostly monetary. The day after the July 20 theater shootings, he purchased his prized Smith & Wesson 1911 series .45 caliber handgun. He figured that in a few months, the cost of guns would skyrocket, and they might be harder to find. He was right.
Five months after July 20, another AR-15 was used to terrorize dozens of holiday shoppers at a mall in Oregon. Days after that, bullets from an AR-15 were launched at a classroom of first-grade boys and girls in Connecticut.
Demand for guns after Connecticut was higher than ever. Some bought them for protection from maniac weapon-wielders. Others bought them for fear that politics might get in the way of future gun purchases. The value of the guns soared as well. The AR-15 that Stonehouse bought for $600 in 2000 was worth about $2,500 after the school shooting. Boxes of ammunition are still expensive today.
July 20 shifted Stonehouse’s perspective on gun control some. It might not be the best idea for an ordinary person to own a military-grade weapon like an AR-15, he says. Then again, it’s really a bad idea for an unhinged male with an undiagnosed psychiatric condition that has access to guns to go unnoticed, he says.
The shooting also became the catalyst for discretion. Guns are now sensitive subjects of conversation. He bonds over guns and zombie targets while drinking beers with his buddies. But around strangers, he’s discreet about his arsenal: the AR-15, the Smith & Wesson 1911 and the .45 caliber Glock 36 he bought himself when he turned 40. “There’s a little less giggling involved,” he says. “It became a bit more serious.”
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: The personal toll
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: The physical toll
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: The emotional toll
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: Our identity
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: Our city
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: Our children
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: Our community
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: Ourselves
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: Message triggers a new attitude toward guns
7.20.2012 THE PRICE WE PAID: Q&A with Gov. John Hickenlooper
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