WWJD: What Would Janus Do With a Gun
A reflection on safety, law, and the choices we make when dealing with grief and a system that can’t fully protect us
01 February 2026, Sunday
Hey there and hola!
Janus
Although January has ended, I still feel as if I have two faces, one looking ahead and one looking behind. The old life in Mexico hasn’t quite closed yet. One recurring thought is whether or not to buy a gun.
Before the pandemic, we briefly considered buying an old gun from a friend. It was for self‑protection. My husband had been targeted several times while withdrawing cash from an ATM, and he wanted a way to defend himself. The idea took me by surprise. In all the years we were together, he had never once talked about owning a gun. In the end, we never bought it. Our friend passed away a few years later, before anything ever came of it.
It turned out to be a very good thing we never owned a gun.
Parkinson’s & guns
As my husband’s Parkinson’s advanced, he began to hallucinate. Some of those hallucinations were terrifying. I won’t describe the worst of them. He lived in a near‑constant state of fear. Once, in what might be considered a milder episode, he called the police because he believed people were trying to steal our house. Squatters’ rights are a real concern in Mexico, and that fear took hold. The officers who responded were remarkably kind. They treated him with dignity and reassured him, promising they would come by to “arrest the bad guys.”
Because the hallucinations persisted, my husband began carrying a briefcase everywhere with the house title inside. He climbed the stairs again and again, trying to escape people who were not there. He also made accusations, some directed at one of our two chihuahuas and at me. Had we owned a gun, I have no doubt he would have used it, against someone, or even against me.
Eventually, I had to sell the house. It was heartbreaking. The dogs had a wonderful backyard there. But for someone living alone, far from family, the house was far too big and expensive to manage. Given recent constitutional changes to Mexico’s legal and judicial systems, selling was the only responsible decision I could make as a non‑citizen.
Two faces, two directions, two possible outcomes
Since returning to the U.S., I have found myself revisiting the idea of buying a gun. My new place is small and has no yard for the dogs. A metal fence and a drainage ditch separate my front door from a heavily trafficked street. Still, the thought of carrying a lethal weapon on my person frightens me. A car is also a lethal weapon, yes, but a gun is different. And it’s really different now, especially now, when the Second Amendment feels looser, more untethered under the current administration. Is it safe for me to own a gun when Alex Pretti was killed for lawfully carrying a firearm? Kyle Rittenhouse is celebrated as a hero for killing protestors. January 6th made it clear that only some citizens, armed or not, are allowed to challenge the authorities. They are shielded by the full apparatus of the state. Others, even when lawfully armed and posing no threat, face deadly consequences and no such protection.
So my initial question, “should I own a gun?” is actually this, “under what conditions does the law actually protect me?” As I weigh these questions, I also wonder if this is the point: that we are being forced to surrender our right to free speech and to bear arms if we disagree with this president. Would owning a gun make me a hero, or an enemy of the state?
Or do I truly want to own a gun? Do I need one?
In the end, the question isn’t really about owning a gun. It’s about whether the promises of the law apply equally, or only selectively. I don’t want to live in a country where fear turns neighbors into strangers, or in fear of my government. I want to live in a country where grief doesn’t have to be weighed against force, where dissent isn’t mistaken for danger, and where safety doesn’t depend on proximity to power. If the law truly protected us all, this would not be such a difficult question.
Nowadays, there are no borders for fear
What I see and what I’ve seen tell me that I remain vulnerable, much as I was in Mexico, living alone in a big house with a lovely backyard, far from my family. Like Janus, I face two directions, the fear behind me and the uncertainty ahead.
Hasta pronto!