A father and daughter were camping in the woods one afternoon. The father heard a sound in the distance. When he peered through a break in the foliage he saw another camper setting up a tent. The father went to his truck and pulled out a gun. He checked to make sure it was loaded, cocked the gun, aimed, and fired. The unsuspecting camper was killed.
The daughter, hearing the shot, immediately ran to her father. “What happened?” she asked.
“A man died,” replied the father, as if it were nothing of note.
“But you shot him! You killed a man! What did he do to you?”
“He did nothing,” said the father. “I chose him. But you should know I did not kill him.”
“Who killed him?” asked the girl, confused. “Was there an attacker? Is that why you were shooting?”
“No, no,” laughed the father. “I mean the bullet from the gun killed him. It wasn’t me.”
“But didn’t you fire the bullet, knowing what would happen?”
“Of course. I knew perfectly well what would happen. But I still did not kill him.”
“I don’t understand,” said the girl, confused and on the verge of tears.
“You see,” said the father, “I am a good man. Good men don’t kill people. But sometimes bullets, which cannot have their own intentions, kill people, but never good men. So, it’s not possible that I killed this man.”
The girl feared for her life and for her father’s sanity. She chose to end the conversation there and her father went about his business, as if nothing had happened. That night, she stole away from the camp seeking help.