You don’t need a .380 handgun. From a story in the Atlanta Constitution:

Leonard held a fishing rod outfitted with 15-pound line, which the gar could easily have snapped if the angler rushed things. So Leonard fought the fish for about an hour, letting it dive, reeling it in, then letting the fish run some more.

Finally, he dragged the fish to shore. “I was whooped,” said Leonard. “My arms were sore.”

But not too sore to pick up a .380 handgun. Bang! Bang! The gar lay still.

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