Yeah, a couple times.
Back before they called crazy people "stalkers," some worthless s.o.b. thought he was my one and only. Fortunately he didn't have the skill to run well through wet gumbo mud and sagebrush and couldn't shoot well. He was from out of state and was sent back to a facility there.
And, some poor old desert rat ate a tainted jack rabbit and got tularemia and came into a steak house where I was working at 19. Knowing him for a while, I didn't think anything of it. I didn't know he had a bad fever and wasn't thinking right. I said something to him, in greeting, and he whipped around with a smallish .22 and let off a round. We all jumped him, realized right away he was sicker than heck and got him to the hospital 110 miles away. I didn't press charges and he had to move in with family. I think we were both lucky that night.