All Over But the Crying …
Up until this point, the bullet’s path has been orderly and predictable. That’s all about to change. The gaping hollowpoint cuts through the skin like a hole saw. Then, things get messy.
Human males are about 60% water. Women are more like 55%. 93.2% of America’s incarcerated population is male. Your target is most likely a guy.
Liquids are incompressible. That means pressure at one point is transmitted in real-time to other contiguous fluids. That’s how the brakes work on your car. In this case, hydraulic pressure suddenly spikes, forcing the relatively soft lead bullet core outward against the jacket, fracturing it along predetermined failure points. The bullet opens like the petals of a flower. As this is a bonded projectile, the jacket and core remain intact as a single unit. One rib veritably explodes on entry, thoroughly destabilizing the projectile. Then, the bullet begins to seriously yaw and tumble … at 80,000 rpm. The results are predictably ghastly.
The bullet’s increased surface area now facilitates hydraulic breaking, bleeding energy as it slows. Razor sharp edges slice through lung tissue and heart muscle as effortlessly as might Ginsu knives. The dying bullet saws through the right ventricle before spending itself in the erector spinae, the long strap muscles of the back.
The typical adult human carries five liters of blood. Lose one liter of that, and you’re unconscious. Two liters is fatal. That first liter spills into the chest cavity in seconds. Blood pressure plummets precipitously, starving the brain of oxygen. The heart tries to compensate, but there is now a hole through the main pumping chamber the size of a quarter. Your assailant is unconscious in seconds and brain-dead in minutes. Everything in this tragic, complex chain of events was performed exactly, precisely as designed.
The shot was righteous, so there was no need for an autopsy. Retrieving the spent bullet would be both messy and superfluous. They bury it with him. His family wails about what a good kid he was — simply misguided, unfortunate and misunderstood. However, you get to live to see your grandchildren finish college. And that was the point all along.
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