A DeSoto woman says she lived in fear of her estranged husband and had asked police for help long before he opened fire on her and her two teen sons.
Nicole Rishard said she and her sons, Cody, 14, and Corey, 15, had just returned to her mother's home from a school football game Wednesday night when her estranged husband, Richard Richard, surprised them as they pulled in the garage.
"I remember just praying, 'God please help us,'" she said Thursday outside Methodist Hospital in Dallas.
But Richard, 46, who spells his last name differently than the rest of the family, had a gun and opened fire, she said.
Corey Dooley, a football player at South Grand Prairie High School and the son of NBC 5 photographer C.J. Johnson, was shot multiple times in his chest, back, hip and stomach. He is in stable condition at Methodist Hospital and is expected to recover, his mother said.
"He just kept shooting and shooting until my son stopped moving and then he started walking around the front of the car with the gun still extended towards me and my children," Nicole Rishard said.
Richard then tried to kill her, she said.
"And he was standing there at point-blank range and I laid down to try to avoid the bullets," she said. "I was just praying, because saying anything wasn't going to help me."
She was shot once in her right arm.
Her other son, Cody, was not injured.
"He was just so angry," she said. "Even after it was obvious we were wounded, he was still so angry."
She said her estranged husband then jumped on the hood of her car and smashed her front windshield with the butt of his gun.
Her face was cut, and blood covered her face, she said. Barely able to see, she put the car in reverse and sped away.
Richard waited for officers to arrive and surrendered with his hands up, police said.
Rishard said she had feared him since she filed for divorce in August, saying he had made threats.
She tried calling police, but officers told her there was nothing she could do because she did not have a protective order. But she couldn't get a protective order, she said, because there was no documented history of violence.
"You don't feel protected by the system," she said. "You feel like the oppressor actually has more rights than you do."
She acknowledged that even if she had received a protective order, it is nothing more than a piece of paper that would not have stopped someone who wanted to kill her.