Big boy's done it this time: he's in trouble with the law. I was sitting at home the other evening talking on the 'phone with a friend when big boy arrived home. He sat down in front of me while I chatted away but I could see that something was wrong; his face was pale, his eyes were filling with tears and his bottom lip was wobbling. I hung up the phone.

"What's up?"

"I've done something bad. You're not going to like it."

"O.K, tell me."

"When I was round at Pete's last Saturday we shot someone with his BB gun."

"Who did you shoot?" I asked, trying to stay cool.

"Some woman. She was going round the houses, I fink she was selling stuff."

"And you shot her? How? Why?"

"We shot her through the window. First Pete did it, then he gave the gun to me. She must 'ave phoned the police 'cause Pete's mum got a letter from them about an assault. Those people are really annoying…"

Seeing the statement on my face, big boy stopped talking and looked at me.

"Have you any idea how serious this is?" I asked him. "This was an unprovoked attack on a member of the public, with a weapon. You could end up in Court you know and get a criminal record…"

At this point I halted my lecture as big boy began to howl.

" I…don't…want..to..gggggo to Borstal," he wailed. "My… life's… over. I..mmmay…as well…kill myself. I'll get bbbbeaten up in Borstal or dddone in by some psycho murddderer… "

At this point Bro poked his head round the door.

"How many years will he be in prison for Mum?" he asked. I glared at him and he disappeared but the damage was done. Big boy was now crying uncontrollably. I fought off the instinctive urge to comfort him and though I doubted that incarceration would be the outcome I decided it was best to let him suffer a little.

These guns have been a constant source of friction, not only in our house but for big boy's friends and their families too. They fire little plastic 'ball bearings' at high speed and if you get hit by one it can really sting. Firing into the eyes could be very dangerous. Yet all the boys seem to own one. There's nothing they like better than to spend an afternoon chasing around and shooting each other, biting their lips and trying not to cry out in pain when they get shot. One of big boy's teachers had also told me of a recent incident where some pupils from the school had been seen playing with the guns around our local shopping area. A member of the public had become alarmed and the armed response unit was called out from the nearby police station to deal with the situation.

Big boy was already banned from using his except in the garden, using the apple tree for target practice. To be honest though, I'd wanted the damn thing out of the house for ages. Now was my chance.

"Get your gun and put it in the bin NOW!" I ordered big boy and he did as he was told, continuing to sob as he dispensed with the thing. Then he came and sat next to me, pale and shaking as I phoned Pete's mum. She sounded equally shocked and horrified and we agreed that she would phone the police in the morning. Later, as I put big boy to bed he told me that he wanted to apologise to his victim

"I'm sure it can be arranged," I said. " Now try to get some sleep."

The following day, Pete's mum spoke to our local beat officer who was dealing with our case. She said that the victim, who was canvassing for the local elections, was not planning to press charges and that the police would not be taking any further action. But she wanted to talk to the boys she said, about how dangerous these guns can be. She suggested coming to talk to them but Pete's mum and I think that a visit to the police station might be a better idea. The policewoman has agreed that they should visit and she will arrange for them to see the cells. Personally, I would be rather pleased if both boys were put in there for a while with the door locked. I'll let you know what happens.  

Rebecca Misell lives in London with her two sons aged 11 & 13.

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