Meet Gustav. Gustav is a 4th generation piano wire maker. Using the skills his father taught him (and who's father taught him), Gustav painstakingly crafts some of the most beautiful piano wire known to man, used in only the best concert pianos in the world. His handiwork is known not only for the perfect pitch they produce, but also for their strength and durability.
Now, meet Timothy. Timothy is being garroted by one of Gustav's piano wires (Middle C, in fact). Instead of Gustav's intent that the string be pulled to the correct tautness so that when struck, it vibrates at 261.6 Hz, it is being wrapped around Timothy's windpipe in order to choke him to death. The outer windings of the string were intended by Gustav to provide mass to the string so it would vibrate correctly, but instead was selected by the assassin because, much like a fingerprint, the added surface area made for a non-slipping surface which dug into skin much better.
In short, no matter what Gustav's intent was for his wares, Timothy is screwed.
I bring this up because one of the arguments I hear all the time about firearms is that they are "designed to kill" as if the intent of the gunsmith has anything to do with how the weapon is used. I also bring up the fact that without a cartridge, a firearm is nothing more than a bludgeon. The bullet itself makes all the difference in the world too. Cops use rubber bullets in riot situations, fired from standard guns. Actors can use blanks with no projectile.
The logically-impaired have a hard time grasping those facts, for some odd reason. They continue to believe that any object can have the maker's intent magically transferred to the person holding it, thus relieving the holder of any responsibility for their actions.
It doesn't matter that Harald Wüsthof may design his knives so that they kill as many orphans as possible if the chef holding them only uses the blades to chop garlic or saw through fat-back. If intent were transferable, our friend Timothy would be listening to a rousing rendition of Concerto for Piano no. 1 in D minor, Op. 15 from Johannes Brahms rather than having the ever loving shit choked out of him, but alas intent is non-transferable.