Many many years ago when I was in college, I lost a room mate mid semester. Could not afford the rent without a room mate so I found an unknown quantity in the same shape. He agreed to pay the other half of the rent. It was fine until one weekend he and 2 of his drunk cowboy friends came into the apartment and poured beer on me and threatened me. I found an opening, stepped into the closet and put 20 ga. shells in my shotgun. When the breech closed, you would have thought a covey of quail flushed. I did not have to use the gun, but never saw the cowboys again. The “room mate” did not share the apartment long.
There was only 1 other time in my life that I had to produce a weapon. Did not have to fire either time, but avoided possible injury to me. 2nd time was a more direct threat. Both ended well.
It’s funny that two of the scariest sounds in the world are associated with shotguns. either the hollow chunk of a breech loader closing, or the shick-shick of a pump. Criminals crap their pants and general dickweeds get real nice, real fast.
I used an unloaded bolt action 410 once to break up being robbed by four black guys. I didn’t even own shells for it.