What would you do in a bank robbery scenario?
Whether you’re an employee or a patron, it’s important to know how to handle this situation.
Below is the part one of our two part fictional bank robbery scenario designed to give you an idea of what could happen in a bank and how best to handle it. Read the story and let us know in the comments what you would do in this situation.
What Would You Do: Bank Robbery Scenario
My employer has always paid me by check on Thursdays. So, each and every week, I’d find myself in line at the bank as I anxiously awaited my time with the bank teller. Not that it mattered when I got paid because all I really cared about was being reimbursed for my time.
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As usual, my head was on a swivel. It had been a few years since I had retired from the Sheriff’s department, but I’ve always remained watchful of my environment. To some keen onlookers, I probably looked guilty of a crime, or like I was about to commit a crime. However, it’s just something that people like me do.
I’ve been retired for about five years now. And, much to my dismay, my wife insisted that I start working on a second career. I guess it was because I was driving her nutty. Besides, she said she was sick of eating fish for dinner, since that was all I seemed to have time to do these days. Not to mention, I was only 45 years old. So I obliged and got a job as a private security guard for some rich snob who lives on top of a hill.
As I peered around the room, I took everyone in—assessing them as a potential threat. One bearded man behind me was exercising his right to open carry his sidearm. In a bank? Probably not the best idea. The mere sight of a gun can make people uneasy, even in my gun-friendly town. To each his own.
I always wore my own pistols as deeply concealed as possible. Of course, I say “pistols” because I’ve got a backup Kahr Arms CW .380 around my ankle in addition to the Glock 19 tucked inside my waistband. After all, you can’t be too safe at this day in age.
The bearded man watched my eyes drink in his stainless Smith & Wesson revolver, and puffed his chest out with pride. I nodded to him and spun back around. He was clearly not a threat because even though his firearm was out in the open, it wasn’t in his hand.
It would soon be my turn at the window, and, although I couldn’t explain why, I was feeling a bit uneasy.
I was half expecting my turn to be called out, when the teller let out a gasp, and ducked behind the counter. Then, from behind me, I heard a single gunshot followed by multiple rapid-fire gun shots off to both sides of the bank. I turned around just in time to see the poor bearded man hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Above him stood a man wearing a ski mask holding a pistol that resembled a tec-9 with what looked to be a 30 round magazine inserted into the mag well. Though, I couldn’t be sure exactly what it was.
He yelled, “everybody on the floor, now!” He spoke with a heavy accent that I was unable to identify. In an effort to make it home to my family, I complied. At least for now.
All of my time on the force afforded me not one opportunity to be in a fire fight, and I’m not sure that I wanted to start one now. Why didn’t I see this coming? Only seconds had passed from the time I turned away from the bearded guy. How could I miss some masked guys toting guns through a bank?
Unfortunately, I don’t know the answers to those questions. At this particular point in time, the only thing I could be absolutely certain about, is that they cannot find out that I’ve got a gun. They’ve already proven that they will exterminate anyone who poses a threat.
The murderer reached down, and plucked the Smith revolver out of the bearded man’s holster and eyed it up. After his eyes deemed the firearm a sufficient piece to add to his collection, he slipped it into his waist band.
I secretly wished that he’d shot himself in the groin with it, but no luck.
I was on my stomach, with my hands in the push-up position. I glanced over at the once-proud open carrier, who was bleeding profusely from multiple spots. It looks like he has some internal bleeding going on. Well, he had some internal bleeding going on.
He was dead, now, though. How could he not be dead after taking a shot from a gun that was just feet away from him?
My mind raced as it was unable to settle on a proper course of action. One second I thought about my ankle holster being visible to the bad guys, and the next I began to make sense of the whole scenario. Shortly after those thoughts, I thought about the phone call my wife would get if these guys killed me.
Unfortunately, each time I thought I had something figured out, another question was posed.
Were these criminals wearing bullet proof vests?
Would I be able to make three quick shots to stop these men who were strategically placed on opposite ends of the bank?
Would one shot to each terrorist even be enough? From what I’ve been taught, not at these distances with the amount of stress running through my body.
The one gunman stood by the side entrance of the bank, which was about 10-12 yards from where I was, while the other walked up to the counter just a few feet from me. The third, and furthest from me paced back and forth on the other wall, opposite of the far entrance where the other guy was. Two of them had medium length rifles, while the third had a tec-9 and, now, a revolver. I was heavily outgunned.
But if I did nothing, people could get killed. But, then again, maybe they would spare us, and I could be useful afterward to help describe the attackers to the sworn police.
What should I do?
Sound Off Gun Carriers! What should our retired police officer do in this situation? Let us know what you think in the comments below. And, make sure you stay tuned because I’ll be finishing up part two of this fictional story in a couple of days. Also, let it be known that I don’t have anything against open carry. This is just a scenario that comes to mind.
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