A mother’s call to action
Motivated by own son’s death, she fights for end to violence
The women had been marching for nearly an hour, and now Malissa Thomas-st. Clair was struggling to catch her breath.
Up to that point, Thomas-st. Clair said she had been fueled by pure adrenaline as she led her “sister soldiers” on a recent Sunday afternoon on a march through Downtown Columbus to make sure no one would forget the names of their sons and daughters who had been lost to violence.
But now, at the corner of Marconi Boulevard and Broad Street — so close to Columbus City Hall, where they had started and planned to end the march — her physical limitations had caught up to her.
Wincing in pain, Thomas-st. Clair leaned on another woman’s shoulder for support as she took in oxygen through a tracheal tube — a remnant of a head-on crash two years ago with a drunken driver.
Reflecting on the moment a few days later, Thomas-st. Clair, the founder of Mothers of Murdered Columbus Children, said there was no way she wasn’t going to finish that march.
As the women behind her began shouting words of encouragement — “We got you Malissa!” “You’re almost there!” — Thomasst. Clair gave a nod that she was ready, and they pressed on.
“It was just the push I needed to finish that last little block,” Thomas-st. Clair said.
Spreading message that gun violence has to stop
The physical exertion she expended that Sunday was nothing new to Thomas-st. Clair, who for the past year has sacrificed mind, body and spirit to spread the message that the gun violence in Columbus has spiraled out of control. After she and friend Karla Harris founded Mothers of Murdered Columbus Children last August, the group has hosted violenceprevention rallies in neighborhoods across the city as Thomas-st. Clair seeks to build a coalition of other social justice-oriented organizations.
“I’ve allowed willingly for this mission to take over,” said Thomas-st. Clair, a math teacher who lives with her husband, Mike St. Clair, on the city’s Northeast Side.
For Thomas-st. Clair, her breaking point — her call to action — came in mid-august of 2020 when she read about a 14-year-old boy who unintentionally shot and killed his 2-yearold nephew while playing with a revolver. But it was years before she founded the organization that the scourge of deadly violence affected her personally.
On April 29, 2013, her 22-year-old son, Anthony St. Clair, was stabbed to death by another man when he went to collect a debt from the sale of promethazine, a prescription antihistamine with codeine. Richard R. Cochran, 51, was sentenced in 2014 to six years in prison after he pleaded guilty to one count of voluntary manslaughter.
Anthony’s spirit has loomed large over any rally or community gathering that Thomas-st. Clair leads. She invoked his name in public prayer, carried his framed picture, and used his story as a cautionary tale so that no other mother must endure such a tragic loss.
“As with any tragedy, as time moves you forward, you’re able to find a different way of living through the pain so you’re not so suffocated by it. I’m now
using his testimony to save lives.”
‘A sense of hope, sending a message out there that enough is enough’
In a year, Mothers of Murdered Columbus Children has grown to include 1,800 people among its ranks based on membership to a private Facebook group. Thomas-st. Clair estimates that about 250 of the group’s members are grieving mothers — those she calls members of the “unfortunate sisterhood” who can be easily identified at the group’s events by their bright orange shirts and camo pants or hats.
Victoria Perry, 63, joined the group within months of the fatal shooting of her daughter last fall.
Christina Perry, 35, was gunned down Oct. 25 with her then-13-year-old son in the car as she was preparing to drop him off at his father’s home, according to her mother.
When her daughter died at the hospital the next day, the loss left Victoria Perry heartbroken and confused by who would cause harm to her daughter (Columbus police have made no arrests). Finding and joining the group of other mothers, she said, has given her not only a support system of women who can empathize with her loss, but has also provided purpose as she fights to end the killings.
“I believe we feel each other’s pain and you can see the hurt in everybody,” Perry said. “But it gave me a sense of hope, sending a message out there that enough is enough.”
The violence has left community members reeling and police and city officials grappling for answers. But Thomas-st. Clair wants to see that professed concern translate into concrete action from all corners of Columbus.
“People are frustrated, the community is afraid and the community is uneasy and wanting to seemingly flee the city,” she said. “Everyone’s fed up, but here’s my personal sentiment on this: They’re not fed up enough.”
Thomas-st. Clair’s drive and passion has caught the attention of city leaders, many of whom were among the speakers at the Sunday rally, including City Council President Shannon Hardin and new Columbus Division of Police Chief Elaine Bryant.
Cmdr. Robert Strausbaugh, of the police Major Crimes Bureau, said Thomas-st.
Clair has been an invaluable conduit between police and those in the community who tend to distrust law enforcement.
“The ability to gather information from the community and to get the community to have trust in the investigation is imperative; that is going to be that bridge that starts to solve homicides,” Strausbaugh said. “The problem with homicide suspects walking the streets is, if they killed once and they feel no remorse, they’re going to kill somebody again, and that somebody could be your loved one.”
That’s a fate that the mothers of the organization seek to prevent as well.
For a second time during their Sunday march, they paused and lined up in the middle of the street and chanted “enough is enough.”
The women then held aloft framed photos of their children as they took turns shouting their names and the dates of their deaths into a bullhorn.
As they congregated on the steps of City Hall to close out the rally, Thomas-st. Clair, having regained her strength, offered a few simple words in parting.
“We love you, God loves you more,” she said. “Be good to yourselves. We’re out.”