I was hiking on a public trail when a young man came around the corner screaming for help because his dad had been shot. Given the possiblity of a shooter, I was not inclined to approach, but the friend I was with, being more selfless than I, approached the victim. Not willing to let my friend go along, I went with him. The victim was seizing and bleeding profusely from a wound to his head, there was probably a two foot diameter pool of blood at this point. I figured he was a goner with only seconds left given that he looked just like the many farm animals I have put down. Due to the fact that he was still moving and would likely not have an airway obstruction I assessed that he didn't need CPR and I was not to terribly inclined to put pressure on his wound considering the risk of bloodborne pathogens (and my desire to get out of there). At this point, his son and my friend leave me alone with the man to get help (no cell phone signal). After a few moments though, the man seems to begin regaining consiousnous, begins moaning and attempting to sit up. I try to calm him and tell him he needs to lie down. This was not working, and he continue to try and sit up, so I thought I might check his wallet for his name to help calm him. I saw a bulge in his pocket and went for it, turns out it was a pistol! Probably not the right move, but I put it back immediately (I should have at least unloaded it). Right about this time two rednecky looking fellows show up with a large scoped revolver. Then start wiping it off with their shirt and tuck it back in the woods. Shit is getting real! About this time, my friend shows back up with the son. The son takes over care of his father (who is sitting up at this point), and I got the hell out. As we were approaching the parking area a pickup truck roars up and a fellow jumps out, I tell him to be careful because there are a few guns floating around. He says, "Thanks", reaches back into his truck, pulls out HIS piece and takes off for the scene. Finally, LE shows up, once again, I tell them to be careful. He looks at the truck that showed up and says, "Oh, I know that guy, I'm not worried". At this point, I just want to give a statement and get the hell out. So my friend and I tell the deputy what we know, including the fact we never heard a gunshot and never saw anyone but the son. They called in an airlift and we left.
The rest of the weekend was spent rehashing and wondering what had happened. Monday morning, I started calling EMS, Fire and Rescue, and the Sherriff's department, until I found someone who could tell me if the fellow had survived. Finally got hold of someone who told me the man had, in fact, not been shot, but had suffered a seizure and hit his head on a rail on the way down. The son had only interpreted the sound and the wound to be a gunshot. Glad it all worked out, but not something I wish to repeat!