Real estate can be dangerous. We just don’t like to talk about it.

We should.

In 2007, a colleague of mine was murdered. Even typing those words still feels surreal.

His name was Jim. He was a husband, father, elder at his church, and one of the genuinely good people in our business. He had listed a home where the grandson who inherited the property was struggling to let go and move out. Jim believed problems could be solved through compassion and conversation. He thought he could help. He went to the property to talk with him.

Instead, the man pulled out a shotgun and shot Jim in the head.

Jim was killed instantly.

His wife and business partner, Jan, was devastated, as were his children and our entire agent community. Many of us sat with Jan through the trial, trying to offer support through a grief that is hard to put into words. It shook our real estate family to its core, and it has stayed with me ever since.

Not long after that, I was selling a new development—twelve luxury homes I was handling on my own through construction and sales. Every weekend, I held those models open.

One weekend, a man grabbed me, covered my mouth with his hand, and pulled me into one of the vacant homes.

To this day, I don’t know where the strength came from, but somehow I fought my way free. I got away.

But I was terrified.

After that, I made sure I had someone with me whenever I held that development open.

Over the years, I have heard too many stories from colleagues—agents tied up during showings while homes were robbed, agents threatened by knife-wielding lunatics, or cornered in situations that turned dangerous in a split second.

Why am I sharing this?

Because we work in a business where we often normalize putting ourselves in vulnerable situations. We meet strangers alone. We walk into vacant homes for people we barely know. We can become so focused on service, so committed to being accommodating, that we ignore the quiet signals telling us something is off.

Gavin de Becker wrote in The Gift of Fear that intuition is always whispering before danger starts shouting. I have never forgotten that.

If something feels off, pay attention.

If a prospective client refuses to provide information, pay attention.

If someone makes you uncomfortable at an open house—leave.

Always trust your gut.

Have a buddy system when possible. Vet people before meeting them alone. Let someone know where you are. Have a check-in system. Know your exits. Be aware of your surroundings.

And perhaps most importantly, give yourself permission to leave a situation the minute it doesn’t feel right.

We spend so much of our careers protecting our clients, negotiating on their behalf, and solving their problems. Sometimes we forget to protect ourselves.

And sometimes that quiet voice inside you—that whisper telling you something isn’t right—is the very thing meant to keep you safe.

Listen to it.

It may save your life.