"WHY I SHOT AN ABORTIONIST," by Paul Hill
Letter To the White Rose Banquet
from Paul J. Hill
(This letter was read, in part, at a banquet honoring the sacrifice made
by those incarcerated for defending the unborn.)
December 22, 1997
To my friends and all the saints at the White Rose banquet: Greetings in the
name of our Savior.
I trust the Lord is blessing and ministering to each of you and causing you to
grow in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. To know Him is to know
the way, the truth, and the life.
The Lord has been sustaining me in a wonderful way through your prayers
and concern. By His grace I am becoming more productive in my writing. I
would like to recount some of the things He has done through me since I
began to consider taking "defensive action" myself.
Since I had such a high profile and was under such close scrutiny I had not
seriously considered acting myself until one afternoon eight days before the
shooting. I was touching up a car on a used car lot, wondering who would
act next, when the idea of acting myself struck; it hit hard. During the next
two or three hours, as I continued to work in a distracted manner, I began to
consider what would happen if I were to shoot an abortionist. My eyes were
opened to the enormous impact another such shooting in Pensacola would
have. The man who had previously shot an abortionist in Pensacola (Michael
Griffin) had been dismissed as being mentally unbalanced, but I was a former
Presbyterian minister who had publicly justified the shooting. I also had the
support of numerous pro-life activists. After sixteen months of deliberation, if
I were to act, the effect would be incalculable.
I had previously become convinced that I had been entrusted with the
proclamation of a truth upon which the lives of untold millions in this and
every succeeding generation depend. I realized that incarnating the truth
would serve to propagate it as nothing else could - especially in this instance.
Having spoken the truth I needed to exemplify it. Enough had been said
about abortion, action was long overdue.
All of the lines of reasoning that I had seen as justifying Michael Griffin's
previous shooting of an abortionist converged in my mind as I considered
acting myself. I was struck with the encouraging and inspiring influence such
an example would have on the upright and the terror it would bring to those
involved in killing the unborn.
With some difficulty I finished my work that Thursday afternoon and went
home. I continued to secretly consider the idea, half hoping it would not
appear as plausible after I had given it more thought.
The next morning, Friday, as was my practice, I went to the abortion clinic. I
arrived at about eight o'clock, the time that many of the mothers began
arriving. I was usually the first protester there but that day another activist
had arrived first. What was even more unusual was, after discrete
questioning, I learned he had been there when the abortionist had arrived,
about 7:30. More importantly, I discovered that the abortionist had arrived
prior to the police security guard. This information was like a bright green
light, signaling me on.
For months my wife had planned to take our children on a trip to visit my
parents and to take my son to summer camp. She planned to leave that
coming Wednesday morning and return the following week. I would have the
remainder of that day and all of Thursday to prepare to act on Friday - eight
days after the idea first struck me. All I had to do was hide my intentions
from my wife for a few days until she left. If I did not act during her planned
trip (since I could not have kept my feelings from her for long) she would
almost certainly develop suspicions later and my plans would be spoiled for
fear of implicating her. I could not hope for a better opportunity than the one
immediately before me. God had opened a window of opportunity, it
appeared I had been appointed to step through it.
Saturday afternoon, the second day after I began considering taking action,
we went as a family to the beach. My wife, Karen, and I enjoyed the beach
in the afternoon. We arrived a couple of hours before sundown; it was
beautiful. No one was on the stretch of beach we chose. The sand was
sugar-like and clean, the water clear with gentle incoming swells. It was the
perfect end to a busy week and a hot day.
Our three children were delighted with the outing. My son was nine and my
two daughters were six and three. We dug in the sand, splashed in the water,
and walked along the edge. All the while I weighed my plans in my mind,
being careful not to arouse suspicion.
This was a heart rending experience. I doubted I would ever take my family
to the beach like this again. I would be in prison, separated from my beautiful
wife and children. The sight of them walking along the beach, so happy and
serene, and the contrasting thought of being removed from them was
startling, almost breathtaking.
I could not allow my emotions to show. To retain control I lifted my heart to
God in praise and faith. As long as I responded to the pain in my chest with
praise I could rise above it and still see things clearly - and what a strikingly
beautiful sight it was. Somehow, responding to the stabbing pain with praise
turned it to joy, a joy as clear and clean as the sand and sky.
As I lifted my heart and eyes upward I was reminded of God's promise to
bless Abraham and grant him descendants as numerous as the stars in the
sky. I claimed that promise as my own and rejoiced with all my might, lest
my eyes become clouded with tears and they betray me.
All my paternal instincts were stirred as I played with my children. They
enjoyed their father's attention. I took them one by one, each in turn, into
water over their heads as they clung to my neck. As I carried and supported
each child in the water it was as though I was offering them to God as
Abraham offered his son.
I also admired the beauty and grace of my wife. (She is a remarkably fine
and capable woman.) I knew that, by God's grace, she would be able to
cope with my being incarcerated. But it was soul wrenching to think of being
separated from her - though I knew our relationship would continue.
Though I would almost surely be removed from my precious family I knew
God would somehow work everything out. I would not lose them, just be
separated from them. The separation would be painful but the reward would
be great, too great to fathom, it was simply accepted in faith.
After the sunset we brushed the sand from our things and walked back to the
car. Neither Karen nor the children seemed alerted to anything. I enjoyed
watching them through eyes unknown to them, like a man savoring his last
supper.
I decided to suspend final judgment as to whether I would act until the
upcoming Monday. After making my decision I would then have four days to
prepare myself to act on Friday, the day abortions were performed. I sought
the Lord's will in prayer and tried to consider all sides of the issue. I searched
my mind and the Bible for all the principles I could bring to bear on the
question. Much of this work had been done previously while writing a paper
justifying the March ‘93 shooting of Dr. Gunn by Michael Griffin. It was now
a question of the wise application of these principles. The evidence seemed
overwhelming.
When Monday arrived I knew I had to decide. When I went from debating
whether to act, in general, to planning a particular act, I felt some relief. I felt
that the Lord had placed in my hands a cup whose contents were difficult to
swallow, but that it was a task that had to be borne.
The decision was agonizing. I would be leaving my wife, children, home, and
job, but I felt God had given me all I had that I might return it to Him. Nor
was I unmindful of the impact this gift would have, or of the reward. I was
also assured, from God's Word, that He would be a Father to my children
and sustain my wife.
The path lay before me, all signs pointed ahead. The only alternative was
disobedience - neglect of the very worst kind - turning my back on a vast
multitude as their lives were being brought to a cruel end. This was
unthinkable; I had no other choice. The apostle Paul wrote, "For if I preach
the gospel, I have nothing to boast of, for I am under compulsion; for woe is
me if I do not preach the gospel" (1Cor. 9:16).
I had not moved to Pensacola for this purpose. I had not gotten myself on
Donahue or Nightline, nor had I carried myself through them in my own
strength. I certainly had nothing to do with Michael Griffin shooting Dr. Gunn,
or the previous Pensacola abortion clinic bombings on Christmas of 1984. I
was not standing for my own ideas but God's truths, the same truths which
have stopped blood baths and atrocities throughout history. Who was I to
stand in God's way? Henow held the door open and promised great blessing
for obedience. Was I not to step through it?
The Lord had called me and He showed the way. The providential
interworking of circumstances which unfolded before me as I moved ahead
were astounding. My task was to overcome the reluctance of the flesh by
proceeding in faith.
This was His project; I trusted Him to complete it. I was in His hands to
accomplish His purposes and He worked marvelously. By His Spirit the
fears that arose again and again, virtually all of which were ill-founded, were
overcome.
But the morning of the shooting was not easy. Although I had gone to bed
late I forced myself to rise about 4 A.M. to spend time in prayer and Bible
reading. The strength I needed for the day was found in Psalm 91:
You will not be afraid of the terror by night, or of the arrow that flies by day;
of the pestilence that stalks in darkness, or the destruction that lays waste at
noon. A thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand;
but it shall not approach you. You will only look on with your eyes, and see
the recompense of the wicked. For you have made the Lord, my refuge,even
the Most High, your dwelling place.
I was fully determined to act, and yet the temptation still came to back out.
The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak; I could not go on feelings as
my flesh shrank from the task. My usual zest and the zeal I expected to feel
were missing. My heart felt half dead within me - my stomach like an empty
and bottomless pit. It did not occur to me at the time but I now wonder how
Abraham felt as he walked up Mount Moriah to kill his son. Surely his heart
was heavy, very heavy, and his blood ice cold - mine was.
While driving to the clinic I decided to drive past it first to see if everything
looked normal. (I was concerned that someone may have become suspicious
and called the police.) Just as I approached the clinic a police cruiser drove
by me in the opposite direction. I forced my fears under control as I
continued down the road. After driving about an eighth of a mile it was time
to head back, but the truck did not want to turn around; it had to be forced.
As hard as it was to turn around I knew I could not continue down the road.
Obedience was the only option.
Several months prior to the day of the shooting Gentleman's Quarterly
magazine had interviewed both the pro-life protesters and the pro-choice
people who frequented the Ladies Center, including the abortionist. The
extended piece GQ did on the abortionist and the threat of his being shot
was published in February of ‘94.
I knew from having read this article that the abortionist and his escort were
on guard and usually armed when entering the clinic. Jim Barret, an escort
who took his turn driving the abortionist to the clinic, was described as being
well armed. He was quoted as saying that, if threatened, he would shoot first
and not miss. As it happened, in God's providence, he was the driver killed
that day.
As I stood awaiting the abortionist's arrival, I was struggling in fervent prayer
to maintain my resolution of heart. At the end, as the moment of his expected
arrival approached, I was praying fervently that the police security would not
arrive first. I could still find the heart to shoot the abortionist, but while I
knew it would be justified to kill a policeman in order to stop the murderer he
was protecting, I did not want to have to do it. I made a personal request to
the Lord to spare me, and the policeman, if possible.
God heard my prayers and the abortionist arrived prior to the police guard.
When I stepped out to shoot, two men were sitting in the front seats of the
truck with Jim Barret, the escort, directly between me and the abortionist.
When I finished shooting I laid the shotgun at my feet and walked away with
my hands held out at my sides, awaiting arrest. (I did not want to appear to
be threatening anyone when the police arrived.)
I was relieved when they cuffed me. They correctly say I smiled at the
policeman who ordered me under arrest with his drawn handgun. I did not
want to be shot, and was glad to be safely in police custody.
When they later led me to the squad car a small crowd had assembled. I
spontaneously raised my voice, "One thing's for sure, no innocent people will
be killed in that clinic today." I spoke what was on my mind. The abortionist
had been prevented from killing about thirty innocent people, nor has he
killed any since that day - as have other wounded abortionists who have
returned to "work". The most unusual thing about that day was that the
children survived to possibly work some other day, the one who intended to
kill them did not.
At the police station a specially summoned plain clothed officer sattalking
with me for two or three hours. He had sat similarly with Michael Griffin. Not
wanting to aid those sworn to defend murder, I did not discuss what had just
happened. It made little difference, however, since not intending to conceal
my identity, I had left an abundance of evidence anyway.
The emotional impact of being separated from my family came upon me. My
response to the crushing pain became more fervent as the pain increased; I
lifted my heart to the Lord in praise and faith.
As I sat there talking I was not sure whether I had been totally successful.
Eventually the prosecutor came and declared he was charging me with two
counts of murder.
I knew then I had accomplished my task. I continued to lift my heart to the
Lord, thankful for success. I had not failed in my errand and He had not
failed me. The Lord had done great things through me.
A short time later, the arresting officer led me out of the police station and
escorted me twenty yards to his squad car in front of a teeming mass of
reporters and photographers. As I came out the door of the station, I seized
the initiative and raised my voice in a carefully planned declaration: "Now is
the time to defend the unborn
in the same way you'd defend slaves about to be murdered!"
Soon I was alone in a large one man cell and could direct all my praise and
thanks to the Lord. I repeatedly sang a song commonly used at rescues,
"Our God is an Awesome God"; He is. The only way to handle the pain of
being separated from my family was to never cease rejoicing in the Lord for
all He had done.
You may wonder what it is like to have killed an abortionist and his escort.
The faint of heart and those not firmly grounded in the truth could stumble
under such a load. It was unpleasant for me to have to kill two human beings
- even though one was a murderer and the other his accomplice. But the
privilege of being used to save innocent children continues to change this
unpleasantness into joy. What I did was extremely difficult, but the reward
for having persevered is immeasurably great. Often the most unpleasant and
difficult of tasks provide the greatest reward once the difficulties are
overcome. In this instance, the burden of having killed as I did increases my
joy
for having done what was right. As long as I maintain a close walk with the
Lord and view things from the perspective of His Word, far from accusing
me, my conscience affirms me.
I can not escape my conscience any more than anyone else. And the more I
reflect on my actions the more convinced I become that they were good and
appropriate. If I had not acted when I did, my conscience would now
condemn me of being guilty, not of the blood of an abortionist, but of the
blood of the unborn. In all sincerity, I can say that if I had failed to act then, I
could not look myself in the mirror now. Though men have judged and
condemned me to death, as I stand before God in Christ, my conscience is
not only clear, it positively affirms me for my actions.
* * * * * * *
Although I did not fully understand the meaning of the emotions I was
experience then, I understand them better now. Much of the joy I felt after
shooting the abortionist, and still feel today, is the joy of having freely obeyed
Christ after long being enslaved to fearful obedience to men.
I well remember (prior to the shooting) the oppressive feeling of realizing that
I was not free to defend my neighbors as Christ requires. Wrath was ready
to be poured out on me if I cast off the shackles of passive submission to the
State. The fear of being persecuted for disobeying our tyrannical government
made submitting to its yoke seem attractive. My mind and will recoiled from
the high cost of acting responsibly. It required an act of the will to even
consider obeying the Lord.
The inner joy and peace that have flooded my soul since I have cast off the
State's tyranny makes my little cell a triumphant and newly liberated
kingdom. I shutter at the thought of ever returning to the oppressive bondage
currently enforced by the State.
Several days after my arrest, when the prosecution announced they were
seeking the death penalty, my response was to welcome the heightened
threat. I was not inclined to resist their persecution, rather I embraced it.
It is a great privilege to suffer for doing what is right. The prospect of dying
for my Lord seemed too much to hope for and greatly increased my joy. This
was a momentary light affliction in comparison to the joy it bestowed. The
suffering was not worthy to be compared to the eternal weight of glory it was
producing. I was given a foretaste of the reward and it was enough - more
than enough.
The Lord is at work to deliver the unborn. I have confidence as never before
that He is moving in America and throughout the world to stop the onslaught.
The key is proclaiming the truth, the whole truth, about abortion, and
asserting the importance of using the means necessary for resisting its lethal
force. We can trust God to bless our efforts as we use His means in faithful
obedience.
Let us praise the Lord for all He had done, and will continue to do, to glorify
Himself through our efforts. He is worthy of praise.
Paul J. Hill
(Paul Hill is currently on death row at Florida State Penitentiary. He is
publishing a book within the next few weeks. Requests for further
information can be emailed to |
