Unless that person is actually firing, and even then, unless it’s on burst or automatic, how the Hell am I, someone exceptionally familiar with firearms, going to know whether it’s an actual assault rifle or simply a semiautomatic carbine? So, unless I actually can handle the weapon, work the selector and possibly do a function check, I can’t determine whether I have a genuine assault rifle or even a semi that’s been cosmetically altered (big offense) to look like an assault rifle on the selector, way with an AR-15, which would pretty much be the same charge. Now let’s say I’m in certain parts of the world where the firearm market is very different, well, they probably don’t have a Walmart in Iraq, where it’s very, very likely anything that looks like an assault rifle actually is one.
When we reached my house, all the lights were out, my father was away on business and my mother wouldn’t be home until later that evening. So after Henning (the teacher’s name) had unloaded my bike, I asked him in for a thank-you drink. The light had almost gone by now, we took our drinks out to the terrace and stood admiring the view over the dunes. It was getting a bit chilly, so Henning gentlemanly draped his jacket over my shivering shoulders and I kissed him.