Gus Garcia-Roberts USA TODAY Published 9:49 PM EST Nov 9, 2018 The Borderline Bar and Grill in Thousand Oaks, site of the nation’s latest major deadly mass shooting, rests just north of a residential neighborhood in this normally placid California enclave. The horror that erupted there late Wednesday night brought out Brandon Simone and his neighbor, Molly, who live in apartments down the street from the bar. Molly, who asked that her last name not be used for her own safety, opened up her apartment and meager first-aid kit to survivors suffering broken bones, open gashes and mental anguish while they awaited medical treatment. Following that sleepless night, Simone and Molly drove together three miles down the road to VC Defense, the only brick-and-mortar gun store in town. Simone, 35, is a single father who previously vowed never to have a gun in the same home as his kid. But while his teenage son Ethan skateboarded outside, he asked the shop’s owner what he needed to do to buy a 9-millimeter pistol. Molly filmed VC Defense’s handgun display with her phone and sent the video to her boyfriend, insisting that he immediately buy one. For John Von Colln, VC Defense’s proprietor, the duo were among an unusually steady stream of customers that day. Many of them expressed the same sentiment: they had come to the gun store because no place feels safe anymore, and they felt ill-equipped to confront the next mass shooter or armed home invader. There’s a documented phenomenon in America following mass shootings in which gun… [Read full story]
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