11:00 AM, August 14th: Three thugs cruised through the parking lot of a shopping mall in a small North Georgia town of the southeastern United States. A sawed-off shotgun laid under the driver’s seat. The black handle of a semiautomatic pistol protruded from the waistband of the shotgun rider’s pants. Another gun stretched across the back seat and floorboard at an angle. A merciless August sun bore down on the Dodge Charger as the thugs eased by the line of stores on the right side of the car. The rumbling of the headers on the 440-magnum echoed under the canopy where patrons strolled before entering stores. A REVCO drug store sat at the end of the long-line of businesses. I’m one of the thugs, a retired thug.