Plus uh, an AR-15 was designed exclusively to kill people effectively from a good distance if necessary, and up close when needed. It was designed to leave horrific wound channels that would usually need a much larger caliber round to produce. Except if you get there by just hurling a smaller round ever so much faster, you can pack many more of them in your mags, and you can fire bursts with much greater accuracy.
It came into being because the old 30-06 chambered semi-auto weapons were good at turning men into meat but kicked like a mule and it was a bit much to try to carry more than 10 or 15 in a magazine attached to the hunk of wood and steel you're running around with all the time.
Yet it is somehow ok for a minor to carry a "hunting rifle" which would reasonably mean something bolt action--or semi-auto at best, needing no more than 5 or 6 rounds because otherwise you really shouldn't be fucking hunting--but instead is based on shit like barrel length so it's totally cool for him to run around with a Baby's-First-Mass-Murder-Kit on his chest, but a fucking pistol is out of the question because hey he might be looking for deer in the middle of a town during a protest right?
Who thinks he'd be as eager to jump into a situation like that one if he could only carry a bolt action .22? Hell give him a fucking M1 Garand and the piggy little fucker still isn't going to be so likely to fuck around hoping he can make someone else find out, but instead he's got ezmode point-and-click murder itching to be used on his chest.
I've only fired three guns:
a 10 round box mag .22 semi-auto
a .38 old school lookin' ass cowboy style 6 shooter
a .357 more modern revolver
The .22 felt like a cheat code, clickclickclickclick *poppoppoppop* *laugh at stuff falling over down range* and way too easy.
The .38 was neat but not as comfortable as the more modern grip ones, gave a hearty kick, big violent roar, was scary at first.
The .357 wanted to punch my shoulder blade out when I used the regular rounds, the discovery that one of the double-loaded rounds had been missed left me certain the damn thing had just blown up in my hand. Jets of flame shooting several feet to either side, painfully violent kick, and a blast that hurt through the ear protection made me realize the little .38 rounds weren't scary at all.
Someone shoots at you with a PELLET GUN you're gonna wince and freak out a little.
You get capped with a .22 pistol you're not going to be eager to keep fucking around.
A fucking .38 or .357 slug roars past you and you're wondering if you can violently become a pacifist.
One slams home in your body, yeah, fights out of you unless you're like, a goddamn bath salt junkie or terrifying ass grizzled old vet or some shit.
So, who the fuck needs a murdermachine like an AR-15 for self defense?
Oh yeah, cunts like Kyle do.