But lately, she’d started coming in even earlier to work out in the gym. She was rarely alone, but when Bert discovered her lifting weights, he started coming over early as well. Soon, he was helping with the PT to maintain her upper-body strength. And when she asked him about self-defense for a woman in a wheelchair, he admitted he had no idea what that would look like. But in typical Bert fashion, he studied up on the subject. Then he started practicing with her in the gym.
She learned how to leverage her strengths, using powerful arm movements to strike, push attackers away, or maneuver her wheelchair quickly to create distance.
Frazier and Dalton came in one day, saw their workout, and immediately joined in the self-defense training. The Dolby brothers had an easy way with each other despite their different personalities. Frazier was older and more reserved, while Dalton was more outgoing. They’d both proven invaluable to the team, and with a third brother working for Carson on the West Coast, they were well integrated into the LSI culture. Mary had enjoyed getting to know them over the past months.
“Go for the nuts, girl,” Dalton called out, standing in front of Mary in an exaggerated attacker stance.
She held back the desire to laugh, knowing that the last thing he’d want was for her to really punch him in the crotch. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll ruin your dating life?”
He grimaced. “Well, aim but don’t really hit.”
She gave in to the laughter, but she understood his point… the groin was one of the most vulnerable targets and, more importantly, it was at a perfectly accessible height for her.
“He’s right,” Bert said, moving to stand beside Dalton. “Women with disabilities are three times more likely to be attacked than able-bodied women. Predators see the wheelchair and think ‘easy target.’ We’re going to make sure you’re anything but.”
Mary felt a chill run down her spine at the statistics, but also a fierce determination. She hadn’t survived a car accident and rebuilt her life just to become someone’s victim.
“The groin is obvious,” Frazier added, his tactical instructor voice taking over. “But don’t forget the knees. They’re right at your level, easy to reach, and if you strike hard enough with the heel of your palm, elbow, or even a solid punch, you can hyperextend the joint or at minimum cause enough pain to create an opening.”
“Show me,” Mary said, her hands already positioning on her wheels.
Bert moved into position in front of her, his stance careful and controlled. “Okay, I’m going to come at you slowly. When I get close enough, I want you to strike my knee with the heel of your palm. Not full force,” he added quickly. “We’re practicing technique, not trying to injure each other.”
Mary nodded, her body tensing as Bert approached. When he was within range, she shot her arm out, the heel of her palm connecting with his knee with enough force to demonstrate the technique without causing damage.
“Good,” Bert said, backing off and resetting. “But you pulled the strike. In a real situation, you need to commit fully. The goal isn’t to push them away, it’s to cause enough pain that they drop or at minimum create space for you to escape.”
“Again,” Mary said, her jaw set with determination.
They ran through it three more times, Mary’s strikes getting progressively more confident and powerful. By the fourth repetition, Bert had to step back and shake out his leg even though she was still holding back.
“Excellent,” Frazier said with approval. “Now let’s talk about your footrests. Most people don’t think of them as weapons, but they absolutely can be.”
Dalton positioned himself in front of Mary again, this time crouching slightly to demonstrate. “If someone comes at you from the front and gets close, you can ram them with your footrests. If you aim for the shins and hit them hard enough, you can scrape skin, bruise bone, and potentially cause them to drop to their knees from the pain.”
“And once they’re on their knees?” she asked, already seeing where this was going.
“Then their head and eyes are at your level,” Bert said with a grim smile. “Which means you can go for eyes, nose, throat… all the vulnerable areas that can incapacitate an attacker long enough for you to get away.”
They practiced the footrest strike, Mary learning how to use her wheelchair’s momentum to add force to the impact. It felt strange at first, using her chair as a weapon rather than just a mobility device, but the more they practiced, the more natural it became.
What followed was an intense twenty minutes of Mary spinning, backing up, ramming forward, and generally learning to use her wheelchair like a defensive shield. Her arms burned with the effort, sweat dripping down her back, but she pushed through. This mattered. This could save her life someday.
“Good,” Bert said, breathing hard himself from playing the attacker role. “Now let’s talk about situational awareness, because honestly, that’s your best defense.”
He pulled out his phone and showed her an article he’d saved. “Actionable awareness. That’s what the experts call it. It means taking note of your surroundings and being prepared to change plans quickly. Where are the exits? Who’s around you? What feels off? Is someone paying too much attention to you?”
“I do that already,” she said, thinking about how she’d learned to scan environments for accessibility, such as ramps, elevators, and wide doorways. “I’m always assessing spaces.”
“Exactly,” Bert said. “You’re already trained to be observant because you have to be. Now you’re just adding a security layer to that observation. Look for people loitering without purpose. Notice if someone seems to be tracking your movements. Trust your gut if something feels wrong.”
“And have defense tools,” Dalton added, pulling a small canister from his pocket. “Pepper spray. Keep it in a pocket, clipped to your bag, somewhere you can grab it fast. But be careful about using it in enclosed spaces. You don’t want to spray yourself or limit your own ability to escape.”
Frazier nodded. “The spray is a last resort. Your first line of defense is always awareness and avoidance. Don’t put yourself in vulnerable situations if you can help it. Stay in well-lit areas. Let people know where you’re going. Keep your phone charged and accessible.”
“But if avoidance fails,” Bert said, his expression serious, “then you fight like hell. You use every technique we’ve practiced. You go for vulnerable areas… groin, knees, shins, eyes, throat. You use your wheelchair as a weapon. You create noise. Scream, yell, make as much commotion as possible to attract attention. And you keep fighting until you can get away.”
Mary felt the weight of their words settle over her, but also a strange sense of empowerment. She wasn’t helpless. She had tools, techniques, and the support of people who wanted to make sure she could protect herself.