he spins around, i draw, because i thought he could be a terrorist, ashen complexion and barbing hair i aimed for his head. we're this distance, maybe further, but i don't want to leave my mark, because the director will hit me. but, you know, so it's not more difficult to hit him in the face than the body. it was not changing the shot at all. i draw, aimed for his face, first shot and i don't know at the time how he's able to get these shots off on me. i thought he threw the gun off into his hand, because he rigged it to fire. kicked my gun into the air. i started to fall. then, you know, i'm trying to bring my pistol down. i prayed god please let me shoot this guy before he kills someone else. i was sure i was dead, the amount of pain. there's the sensation of fire and electricity just all going through your body. he shot me again and again and again and again and spun me like a pinwheeling as i went down. all i could do was glare at him the whole time, but cried out and that apparently scared him. >> dan the tribune once quoted you i'm looking at this guy as a kid. i didn't want to