My late aunt and uncle were crack rifle shots in a shooting club. They won prizes in competitions. Then one morning unannounced, my uncle blew his brains out in their bedroom. Their children were eating breakfast.
It wasn't an accident, it was suicide.

I really have an innate fear of guns. In spite of living in Norfolk, a rural area with much game shooting and farmers' pigeon/crow/rat control and so on, I can't bear the idea of killing creatures with a weapon.