If a man with a shotgun ever tells you to get off the porch, go ahead and get off the porch.
My Granny’s parents were Stacey and Jack Wooley. Jack Wooley used to habitually beat Stacey, Mama Stacey, now, within inches of her life. Then he would drive to town and on his way he’d pull over and drop her off in a field. Sometimes her children (named Betty, Wanda, Larry, Barry, Jerry, Garry, and Danny) would be working the field where she was. On the day he died, Jack did what he usually did. Stacey, for whatever reason no one knows now, went to her parent’s house instead of back to her house, very badly beaten. Stacey’s dad, Thomas Wood, was (understandably) very upset. Jack Wooley got drunk that day and came home to an empty house, since all the kids had also gone to their grandparent’s house with their mom. So Jack went to find her, and eventually came roaring up to the house, demanding that Stacey come out to him.
So Thomas Woods came out of the house with a shotgun and told Jack to get off the porch. Jack did not get off the porch. Thomas shot Jack. With a shotgun. From just a few feet away.
“So daddy, did the police come?”
“What did they do?!”
“They just came out and got him.”
“Oh no! Did he go to jail?”
“What? They just came and got the body.”
“But…what about Thomas Woods? Was he in trouble for shooting Jack?”
“Well, he wouldn’t get off the porch.”