Active shooter defense is becoming big business in Texas. Experts ask if it’s paying off.

Some experts question the booming industry and whether any of these strategies are effective at stopping gun violence.

Kevin Livesey (left) and Charlie LaShure of Life Fellowship Church take part in weapon retention simulation during a training session to become personal protection officers, Friday, Sept. 8, 2023, in Krugerville. The training is offered by the Christian Security Institute. (Shafkat Anowar / Staff Photographer)

By Arcelia Martin

6:00 AM on Feb 15, 2024

Underneath a sprawling oak tree, a dozen men lay empty pistols and shotguns on wooden tables, barrels pointed at cardboard targets down a sun-scorched grass field.

At the northern edge of Dallas-Fort Worth, off U.S. 377 in unincorporated Krugerville, William Chadwick faces the line of men. The head instructor and trainer at the Christian Security Institute asks if the weapons are empty. The men bark back, “Yes.” Is there a medic? “Yes.” Safety kits? “Yes.” Is there an ordained member?

Little Elm Pastor John Wolfe raises his hand. The men bow their heads.

Michael Walker of CrossRidge Church (front left), Kevin Livesey (front center) and Charlie LaShure of Life Fellowship bow as they pray before a firearm certification session on Saturday, Sept. 9, 2023, in Krugerville. The training is offered by the Christian Security Institute. (Shafkat Anowar / Staff Photographer)

“God, we pray that we never have to use this training,” Wolfe begins. “But if we do, God, may you be with us...”

The dozen men are completing or renewing their firearm certification, the final step of state-recognized training that allows the churchgoers to serve as armed, plain-clothed, private security at their churches. The process takes up to six days.

The day before, the men learned where to strike a potential threat, in line with the law, that brings an assailant to their knees. They learned when someone becomes their custody and how to remove a weapon from an active shooter maneuvering around pews or an altar.

The Christian Security Institute is among the more involved businesses in a fast-growing active shooter defense industry taking root with the rise of bloodshed and anxiety across North Texas and America.

John Dunlap (left) performs a handcuff simulation on Charlie LaShure of Life Fellowship Church, as senior instructor William Chadwick (right) observes during a training session to become personal protection officers, Friday, Sept. 8, 2023, in Krugerville. (Shafkat Anowar / Staff Photographer)

‘A vested interest’

Charles Chadwick opened Christian Security Institute, the training company in Krugerville, in 2006. The group has worked with roughly 100 churches and trained more than 450 active officers. Only a handful of students have failed, Chadwick said, and it’s typically during the psychological evaluation.

Once the churchgoers graduate from the security officer program, they’re commissioned officers with the Texas Department of Public Safety Private Security Bureau.

“They have professional credentials, they’re not just a bunch of guys licensed to carry and decided they were going to put together a church security team,” Chadwick said.

Their model ensures there aren’t strangers tasked with protecting churches, said William Chadwick, Charles’ son and the institute’s head instructor. “Their wives are in the sanctuary; their kids are in the children’s wing. They’re not leaving. They have a vested interest.”

Charlie LaShure, 76, proudly volunteered for the training program on behalf of his McKinney church. He’s a former chapter president of the Frontiersman Camping Fellowship at the Royal Rangers, an outdoors arm of the Boy Scouts-like program that works to “evangelize, equip and empower the next generation of Christlike men,” according to the group’s site.

“I care,” LaShure shrugged. “There’s too many people getting shot. The only people I want to see shot are the bad guys.”

During a tactical training session at the security institute, a handful of men sat in a makeshift classroom of folding tables as desks. On a plastic dummy, the trainees practiced striking its stomach with the heel of their boots.

“I want his breakfast to come out his nose,” said William Chadwick. They practice arrests with handcuffs over and over again, until they receive a passing grade.

Senior instructor William Chadwick (front) demonstrates a piston kick as participants Kevin Livesey (back left), Charlie LAShure (back middle) of Life Fellowship Church, and John Dunlap of Gateway Church watch during a training session to become personal protection officers, Friday, Sept. 8, 2023, in Krugerville. (Shafkat Anowar / Staff Photographer)

At the gun range, Little Elm pastor John Wolfe prepared for recertification with his 9 mm Luger pistol, as the others shot their rounds at the line. Ear muffs hug his temples over a baseball cap.

Wolfe moved to Little Elm in 1967 and has served as a pastor for the past 15 years. He’s in charge of safety and security.

John Wolfe (back), pastor of CrossRidge Church, Little Elm, takes part in a firearm certification on, Saturday, Sept. 9, 2023, in Krugerville. The training is offered by the Christian Security Institute. (Shafkat Anowar / Staff Photographer)

It’s a shame, Wolfe said, that he has to be at the gun range. Church leaders, like himself, pushed to get certain members trained and armed through the institute, for the things that were happening in the world. There’s been a slip into depravity, he said.

“People have a right to be safe where they worship,” Wolfe said.

If one believes in good and evil, he said, they must be prepared to deal with the latter.

(This article has been edited for briefness.)