Reader TTS

This must have gone on for five minutes, but it felt like an hour. An architect neighbor smelled smoke and ran over to help. Then the couple across the driveway came, and someone called the

fire department. When the fire trucks arrived, they yelled at us to move back, but I couldn’t stop. I said, “We have to keep water on this fire.” I had no idea I had done anything special.

People I never met were knocking on my front door the next day, saying, “You’re a hero. You saved the hill.” But I was just the first responder. I saw what I saw, and I took action.

Thousands of people lost everything that night in other parts of California. We were fortunate to be spared. But I don’t think it was a miracle. The reality is, my children weren’t there and

my husband wasn’t there, and if I wanted to stay in the home I loved, I would have to step up. So I did — but then got a lot of help. "I’m 61, and her heroism reminded me of what I

already knew: It’s not about age; it’s about spirit. You’re never too old to fight a determined fight." — Mark Quattrocchi, neighbor Steven Laxton VICKIE WILLIAMS-TILLMAN _In February

2017, Williams-Tillman, then 57, came to the aid of a police officer struggling with a dangerous suspect in Baton Rouge, La._ On a beautiful Sunday morning in February, I was cruising down

the street, listening to gospel music before church, and turned down a little side street. I saw a squad car stopped and a police officer and another man in a scuffle. I rolled down my

window and called out to the officer, “Do you need help?” "I’VE BEEN AN OFFICER FOR 22 YEARS AND NEVER HAD ANYBODY HELP ME LIKE THAT. YOU DON’T WANT TO MESS WITH THAT GRANDMOTHER."

— Billy Aime, Baton Rouge P.D. He nodded, so I called the police and gave the location. But as I waited for them to arrive, I started to worry about the officer, whose name is Billy Aime. A

pair of handcuffs dangled from a wrist of the suspect. Officer Billy’s nightstick, flashlight and radio were on the ground. It turned out that before I had gotten there, while other people

drove right on past, the suspect had hit Billy on the head with the nightstick. “Are you going to be OK?” I asked him. He didn’t answer me, but we locked eyes — his were watery, and I felt

mine get watery, too. Those eyes said, “Don’t leave me.” The next thing I knew, I had gotten out of my car, and I was gliding toward them like I had on roller skates. It was almost like I

wasn’t in my body. My mind just went blank and free. I felt so at peace, completely safe, even though I am only 5 foot 2. As I got closer I saw blood and hair smeared on the cruiser. And

then I noticed that both men had a hand on the officer’s gun, so I grabbed the suspect’s hand on the gun, twisted his arm behind him and jumped on his back. Officer Billy, who is 6 foot 6,

fell on me, and soon we were all down on the ground. I heard sirens, and when I looked up, I saw backup coming. I know some people who say they would never have done what I did, but that is

them and not me. One thing about me is that I’m not worried what people think of me. All I’m worried about is what God thinks of me. STEPHEN WILLEFORD _In November 2017, Willeford, then 55,

wounded a gunman who had just murdered 26 people in Sutherland Springs, Texas._ I was in my bedroom, relaxing before work on a Sunday morning, when my daughter came in and said she heard

gunshots coming from the First Baptist Church down the street. I went and got my firearm from the safe and ran outside without even putting on shoes, because I knew every pop, pop, pop might

represent somebody’s life. Steven Laxton The shooter came out of the church wearing black tactical gear, saw me right away and started shooting at me. I returned fire. He hit the truck I

was using for cover. He hit the car behind me. He hit the house behind me. I’m a former NRA instructor and competitive shooter, and I’m good with rifles because I trained during most of my

adult life. I’d never been in a situation like this and never wanted to be. But let me tell you, those many years of training made a difference. Using a holographic red-dot scope, I hit the

shooter in a small area not covered by his bulletproof vest. He still managed to get away. He got into his vehicle and fired another couple of rounds through his side window. "ME? I WAS

TERRIFIED. BUT I KNEW RIGHT AWAY THAT DAD WAS GOING TO STEP IN. IT’S NOT IN HIM TO HIDE. THAT’S JUST NOT WHAT HE IS." —Stephanie Willeford, daughter Someone in a pickup truck at a stop

sign witnessed the whole thing, and I tapped on his window and said, “We gotta catch this guy.” I got in, and the chase was on. As a Christian, I really felt that God was protecting us and

guiding us. We were driving just as fast as this guy’s truck would move, and we caught up to the shooter. He pulled over and stopped, and as I started to open the door, the shooter

accelerated again and hit a road sign before going over a curb into a field. That’s when the police say he shot himself; at that point we had already called 911, and the police arrived five

minutes later. Twenty-six people were tragically killed, but the survivors can rest easy knowing that this guy won’t ever hurt anyone again. People hear this story and think I’m some kind of

Rambo. I’m not. I’m the biggest marshmallow in the world. I’m the first person to cry at a sad movie. But you don’t mess with my neighbors, my friends or my family.