SHATTERED
SIX US GUN-VIOLENCE SURVIVORS COME TOGETHER TO SHARE THEIR BRAVE AND HEARTBREAKING STORIES, AND THEIR HOPES FOR CHANGE
They had lives and plans and dreams. And in seconds, gunfire changed everything. WHO brought six gunviolence survivors from around the United States to a roundtable discussion in New York to talk about the shootings that forever altered their worlds and made them part of a club that no-one wants to join. “It’s so important to hear these stories,” says Sara Macaluso, whose father died of a selfinflicted gunshot wound in 1992, “because for every one of them, for every statistic, that’s a family shattered”.
WHO partnered with the non-profit advocacy organisation Everytown for Gun Safety (everytown.org) to sponsor the event, moderated by actress and advocate Julianne Moore in honour of National Gun Violence Survivors Week in February. “People get complacent because they think, ‘Gun violence doesn’t affect me,’ but that’s because it hasn’t hit them yet,” says Carolyn Tuft, who was wounded in a random Salt Lake City mall shooting in 2007 that also took the life of her 15-year-old daughter, Kirsten Hinckley. “I’m doing this because I don’t want anyone else to end up like me.”
That’s a sentiment that reverberates through the experiences of survivors like Colin Goddard, who was just 21 when he was among the 17 people wounded in the 2007 mass shooting that killed 32 at Virginia Tech University. Today, Goddard, 34, advocates for stronger gun laws, including mandatory background checks and red-flag laws that allow firearms to be removed from individuals who may be a danger to themselves or others. “I think that was kind of the last phase of my healing process,” he says, “trying to take the worst day of my life and put it toward something positive.” It’s something they’re all trying to do. Around 35,000 people are killed by guns every year in the US, with twice that number injured. Time is not on their side.
I took my 15-year-old daughter Kirsten to buy Valentines for her friends at this goofy card shop in Trolley Square [Salt Lake City]. We parked the car, walked in, and in three minutes she was dead. She was laughing and holding a couple of these gum packets when a guy came in – he just went randomly shooting through the mall. I was shot three times, and she was shot twice – the second time was point-blank at her head. You plan your life, you envision what your life should be, you protect your kids and provide opportunities for them, and for somebody to be able to take a gun and take that all away is not OK. I lost everything in a matter of three minutes. I was injured so badly I was never able to return to work. I lost my house, I lost my car, I lost my identity. People don’t realise the impact it has; you can completely lose everything about yourself. I lost my daughter, everything I had dreamed for her. I want to call her and say, “Look what I saw,” or give her one of her favourite cookies.
I was 17 when my cousin [John Joseph Harrington] was murdered in Shreveport, Louisiana on August 7, 1982. He was 19. I was an only child; he was like my brother.
I was devastated and alone in my grief and feeling like it should have been me. I thought I was the bad kid in the family. I did spend a significant amount of time suicidal. That feeling led me to dangerous situations, and ultimately it contributed to me being [in an abusive relationship]. I was living with the threat of being shot and killed if I left. That cycle of trauma fuels violence. There are many women living with partners who have access to firearms, and they’re being terrorised. As a domestic abuse survivor, to give voice to those voiceless women and other survivors is meaningful. For me, it’s important because the trauma and loss associated with gun violence – it’s prevalent. But what people don’t understand is that the loss and the trauma are enduring. We are a nation of survivors, and [I speak out] because I understand the need for healing that I didn’t get when my cousin was murdered.
As a result of nine-and-a-half minutes of somebody who never should have had a gun having a gun in their hands, 32 of my classmates and teachers died. I got shot four times: above my knee, in both of my hips and my shoulder. I was one of the lucky ones … I was pulled out of the room, and I was able to survive and work hard in physical therapy to return to do much of what I did before. I assumed, like most Americans, that we did everything we could to keep guns from dangerous people, and I, frankly, was shocked to learn that we don’t even do something as simple as a background check on a gun sale. The reality is so traumatic it can overwhelm you. This shooting is now impacting my life in a whole new way that I didn’t anticipate. With the bullets still inside my body, I have lead poisoning, with headaches [affecting my] ability to concentrate. And I have children, and the impact’s there. It never leaves; it’s not something you experience, then move on and it’s over. You still have to deal with the challenges.
CAROLYN TUFT, 57 ‘ My daughter was killed at the mall’ LISA GOOD, 54 ‘ After my cousin was murdered … I felt alone’ COLIN GODDARD, 34 ‘ I was shot at Virginia Tech in French class’
On April 7, 2016, my 14-year-old son Jajuan was visiting family in Savannah, Georgia. I called him [that morning]; it was warm outside, and I said, “I could see you in the yard now picking up bugs.” And he said, “Mum, yeah, don’t tell nobody about that,” and we laughed. He was going to the movies with his grandmother, and I said, “OK, I love you, bud,” because I always called him my rosebud. He said, “I love you too, Mama.” Four hours later I received the call that my son had been shot. Every part of my being felt like it left my body. When we made it to the hospital, we heard the words you don’t want to hear: “He didn’t make it.” My son was killed by another teen playing with an unsecured firearm – my brother’s stepson. Our family was torn apart. How could you be so careless as to have a gun in a drawer under a T-shirt? There are so many gun owners who think, “My child is not going to touch it,” but you never know. I felt like my whole world was just gone. It’s been a constant struggle, but I continue to fight every day, and I have to live for my other son, for just that reason alone.
DeAndre was at a birthday party in 2014, there with some friends to celebrate, and some teenagers there were asked to leave. Our guess is they came back and shot the house up. My son was an innocent bystander. He was 13 years old. I’ve heard multiple stories – my son was dancing, he was trying to run and just missed the exit. He was shot in the back left of his skull. Upon entry of that bullet into the body, everything changes. The dreams that I had [for him] were endless. With his grade point average and athletic ability, I thought, “This kid is going far.” And for someone to snatch that away leaves a permanent wound in your heart. My son is now 19 years old and lives in a 24-hour-care facility. He dances in his wheelchair a lot. I don’t know if DeAndre feels lucky. I say the word “blessed” that we still have space and opportunity for a miracle. But when I’m seeing my 19-year-old drooling, and I have to change his diaper, I don’t feel lucky. We’re all here because of the ramifications of a bullet and how it shatters our lives.
Three days after running the Boston Marathon, my father, Mike Macaluso, stopped at a sportinggoods store, bought a handgun and drove to the beach – that was his sanctuary. He parked on the seawall where he had a 180-degree view of the water. That’s where he died, with a firearm he’d purchased an hour or so before. It was April 23, 1992. I was 15. My parents were getting divorced. He was devastated. I went to bed that night without telling him goodnight or telling him I loved him. I have a young son now, and when he asks, “Mama, what happened to Grandpa and how come I don’t get to know him?” I don’t know what to say … When it comes to suicide, really easy access to a gun on a really bad day – it’s life or death. If you or someone you know needs support, help is available from
Lifeline on 13 11 14.
JULVONNIA MCDOWELL, 40 ‘ My son was killed by a teen playing with a gun’ DEANDRA DYCUS, 37 ‘ My son was shot at a birthday party’ SARA MACALUSO, 42 ‘ He bought a handgun, drove to the beach ...’