(Editor’s note: In the interest of full disclosure, I should let you know that I’ve known Justin Tong and Sean Rethmeier since my days at the Courier.
They agreed to talk with me and share their story about the Sept. 18 shooting at Walmart in Ark City. That interview is the basis of the story below. – Shane)
Dumb.
Go looking for a word to concisely describe how it is that one friend accidentally shoots another friend as they sit in a car at the Ark City Walmart, and that one’s bound to float toward the top of the list.
Harsh? Maybe.
But when Winfield’s Sean Rethmeier, 23, thinks of Sept. 18 and the events leading up to him shooting his best friend, Justin Tong, it’s the word he uses.
"I don’t even really remember why I was trying to take a gun apart in the Walmart parking lot," Rethmeier says and shakes his head, as Tong sits beside him and listens intently. "I look back at it now and think ? that was pretty dumb."
Mmmm… Hmmmm… That about covers it.
Of course dumb seems far superior to tragic as an adjective for describing this story.
Because that’s almost what this ordeal was.
A tragic and sudden end to a best friendship between a couple of guys who have known each other for years. The tragedy of a 23-year-old, father-to-be taken from his wife and the child he’d never know.
But that didn’t happen.
Instead, everything appears to be mostly OK just more than a week after Tong was airlifted from the hospital in Ark City with a 45-caliber-sized hole in the right side of his abdomen. He left Wesley Medical Center after four-plus days there and is expected to recover fully.
Oh, there will be a scar from the bullet hole, an even bigger one down his belly from exploratory surgery, and there remains a bullet somewhere near or in his pelvic bone, but… he’s feeling much better.
Rethmeier’s mending too. The round accidentally discharged from his 45-caliber Springfield XD passed through Rethmeier’s hand before boring through the console between the two men and entering Tong.
The pair say police have told them that charges in the case are unlikely unless Tong were to push the issue. It appears that won’t happen.
That’s a relief to Rethmeier who spent several hours after the shooting ? once he’d visited the emergency room for treatment of his hand ? in the custody of police, alternately worrying about whether he would end up in a jail cell and the condition of his buddy, Tong.
"I was scared," Rethmeier says. "I thought, ?this is serious stuff.’"
So, back to this central question ? how the heck does one friend shoot another friend on accident.
Well, Tong and Rethmeier are best buds.
They snowboard together, like riding motorcycles and most importantly ? for the purposes of this story ? pack heat sometimes and like to shoot their guns together.
And, like a lot of early twenty-something males, they operate on thoughts oftentimes fueled by excitement and bravado inadequately tempered by an insufficient amount of common sense.
Put those ingredients in a sack, shake ’em up, and it starts to become clear the direction this is heading.
THE DAY OF THE SHOOTING
That Saturday less than two weeks ago, Rethmeier bought a Springfield XD 45-caliber pistol from a local gun store. Tong was with him when he made the purchase and almost immediately the pair made plans to shoot their guns at a private range in rural Cowley County.
It was Rethmeier’s first day as the owner of a slide-action style handgun. The gun he primarily shot before was a nickel-plated 357 revolver-style handgun.
There were differences.
To begin with, his new pistol was more complex and could be dismantled ? or field stripped ? for cleaning. The 357 was a simpler firearm with fewer pieces, and it was tougher to pull the trigger.
The trigger on the new 45, Rethmeier said, required a lot less pressure to fire.
Before they ever got to Walmart, the two men went to Tong’s home in Winfield where they prepared their guns for a trip to the range. Even then Tong noticed Rethmeier struggled with dismantling the weapon properly.
Tong was more familiar with Rethmeier’s new gun, because Tong’s 45-caliber Glock pistol worked in a similar fashion.
"I knew he had struggled with getting it apart," Tong says. "I’d helped him with it."
Problem was Rethmeier wasn’t properly clearing the gun before taking it apart. Tong explained that the method for stripping the gun is to: remove the clip, stroke the slide to eject a chambered round if there is one, lock the slide and inspect the gun for any rounds left behind, just in case.
"When you do it like that," Tong said. "The gun comes apart just like that. If there’s a clip in, you will struggle with it, because it’s not supposed to come apart when it’s loaded."
Fast forward to Walmart in Ark City.
The guys were there in Rethmeier’s car, trying to meet up with his sister. She cuts hair at the store and makes money off any products she sells. Rethmeier detoured to Walmart to pick up a bottle of shampoo, to show a little support for the family.
But little sister was gone for the day when the two arrive and, after a trip inside the store, Tong and Rethmeier end up back in the car, planning what they’ll do next.
Tong remembered surfing the web or texting on his Blackberry as Rethmeier sat in the passenger’s seat. He said he wasn’t aware that Rethmeier was about to make another attempt at field stripping his new gun.
Rethmeier’s inexperience with the weapon showed almost immediately.
Instead of removing the clip and stroking the slide, Rethmeier left the clip in and pulled the slide back, inadvertently chambering a live round.
As he continued to handle the weapon ? which was now pointed in the direction of his friend on the phone ? he at some point unknowingly applied enough pressure to the trigger to discharge the weapon.
BAM…
"When I heard that sound, I immediately thought, ‘oh shit,’" Rethmeier said.
Tong, too, knew instantly what had happened. He’d heard that sound countless times before.
"There was no mistaking it," Tong said. "I saw a splash of blood and wasn’t sure who it was from. Then my abdomen cramped, bad, like a terrible cramp. And I thought, ‘yeah, I’ve been hit.’"
Rethmeier remembered looking at his friend in that instant and seeing a wide-eyed, gaped-mouth look.
"It was like you might see from someone when they jump into cold water that they didn’t know was cold," he said. "Just like that."
Still, Tong managed to keep mostly calm. He entered the keyboard password on his phone and told Rethmeier to call 911 and tell the operator that someone had been shot.
As his friend stepped from the car to do this, Tong got out of the car, too, and tried to walk a few steps.
"I took maybe a handful of steps, and that’s when I really knew," Tong said. "Yep, I’m in trouble."
Rethmeier called 911. He gave them his name, location and said to come quickly, "someone’s been shot."
He walked around the car and found his friend in distress.
THE FALLOUT
Minutes after the gun was fired, the parking lot at Walmart was starting to teem with onlookers and good Samaritans.
Rethemeier used a t-shirt to apply pressure to his friend’s bullet wound when he suddenly looked over to his car. There were three loaded guns in there: his new one, Tong’s 45 and Rethmeier’s 357.
He asked someone nearby to tend to Tong. Rethmeier unloaded the weapons, put them out of sight and closed the car door. He does this he said, out of concern that the guns might have fallen into the hands of a child or that the firearms might have been attractive to someone looking to steal something.
What he’d inadvertently done – by way of closing that car door – was delay the eventual shooting investigation. Because he closed the door to his car, police needed his permission or a warrant to get inside.
Just a short distance away, Tong was being tended to by a woman and an older-man – a man who offered him comfort as Tong sat in the parking lot, waiting for an ambulance.
"I remember asking him if I was going to die," Tong said. "And very confidently, he looked at me, and said that I wasn’t going to die, that I was going to be just fine."
When police and medical personnel arrived things got serious very quickly. As soon as Rethmeier was identified as the shooter, he was told to get down on his knees and police handcuffed him. No one knew yet that he had been injured.
"The minute those cuffs were on me, I thought, ?wow, I’m going to jail,’" he said.
The moments he spent there on his knees on the pavement fueled rumors there was a woman arrested for the shooting. Many saw Rethmeier’s shoulder-length long hair and mistook him for a female perpetrator.
EMS crews made sure Tong was stable and prepared to take him to the hospital in Ark City where he met an air ambulance for a ride to Wesley Medical Center in Wichita. He remembered telling anyone who would listen that the shooting was an accident.
He was surprised when police meet him at the Ark City hospital to question him before he left on the copter to Wichita.
"I thought, ?wow, we’re going to do this now,’" Tong said. "They wanted my story right then."
Tong remained conscious for more than an hour – before being anesthetized for surgery – and called that time the most miserable moments of his life.
"I thought a lot about my family and my wife being pregnant," he said.
Tong’s family was notified and made a frenzied dash to the hospital. He was in surgery when his wife, Heather, arrived. There are tense moments but doctors found that the bullet – one of the largest commercially-popular rounds available for purchase – missed hitting anything of vital importance.
He lost an inch or two of intestine and had a few uncomfortable days in the hospital – but the prognosis from doctors was good. His wife considered it a miracle.
Wichita police were there when he emerged from surgery, to recover the bullet removed from Tong – but surgeons left it inside him because of the risk involved with removing it.
THE INVESTIGATION
EMS workers quickly found Rethmeier’s wounded hand and sent him to the emergency room for treatment. At the hospital, he refused to let police search his car, which had been impounded.
The stay at the hospital lasted for a couple hours. Rethmeier was bandaged up and taken to the police station to be interrogated.
He found police had done their homework, and did it quickly. They had reviewed tapes from the Walmart lot and were doing a thorough check of Rethmeier’s story by comparing what he said with what was on the video.
Police treated him well and fairly, Rethmeier said, describing investigators in the case as courteous and professional but stern and focused.
Nearly every bit of the moments leading up to the gun discharge were caught on video, except for the shooting itself. Sun shades in the window of the car kept the discharge of the gun from being visible at all.
Hours later – thinking more clearly, and unable to remember why it was he refused in the first place – Rethmeier gave permission for police to search his vehicle. He spent a lot of time waiting – not knowing how is friend had fared.
"I sat alone in so many rooms for so long," he said. "I just kept wondering how Justin was and they wouldn’t really tell me. And I kept wanting to talk to someone and just tell them the truth, so I could either go home or go to jail."
What Rethmeier told police apparently jibed with what they’d been able to ascertain from interviewing Tong and reviewing the video. By 11:30 that night, Rethmeier was out of the cuffs and headed to his parents’ home in Winfield.
A couple days later Ark City police chief Sean Wallace released a statement reminding folks they should use precaution and common sense when handling firearms.
STILL FRIENDS
For a brief time, there is some tension between Tong’s family and Rethmeier. It quickly fades though, and Rethmeier eventually visits the hospital.
When Tong is released from the hospital the two go right back to hanging out. If there’s lingering ill will, it’s not visible. Rethmeier even helps out with chores at the Tong house and mows the couple’s lawn.
Both men say they’ve contemplated selling their guns, though Tong seems more committed to that decision than Rethmeier.
In the coming days or weeks they expect to return to work, and more normal lives.
Not being friends seems to never have occurred to either man.
"Justin and I’ve never fought over anything," Rethmeier says. "Ever. We’ve always just been good friends."
