The Register Citizen (Torrington, CT)
Emanuel survivor recounts her journey to forgiveness
Polly Sheppard headlines a program on gun violence in Bridgeport
BRIDGEPORT — Polly Sheppard used to pray with her eyes closed.
She hasn’t done so since she opened them one evening to the pop, pop sound of gunfire in the basement of the Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, S.C.
A young man who had sat through the church’s weekly bible study had pulled out a gun. Three minutes and 77 gun shots later, nine of her friends and neighbors lay dead or dying.
Dylann Roof, 21, turned to where Sheppard was hiding. From under a table she could see his boots, the laser on his gun and his dark eyes which she said looked like dark pools.
“He asked, “Did I shoot you yet?” Sheppard recalled. She said no.
“He said, ‘I am going to leave you to tell the story,’ ” Sheppard said.
That is what she has done — only not in the manner Roof could have imagined.
She told a darkened auditorium at the Bijou Theater on Thursday it wasn’t Roof — now sitting on death row — who spared her life that night. She said God did.
It took time, and more resolve than she knew she had, but Sheppard is now on a mission that has taken her across the world to tell people to love, not hate, and to forgive.
Sheppard was one of three speakers Thursday at a “Disarming Gun Violence” symposium hosted by the Bridgeport Public Education Fund.
Other panelists included Jeremy Stein, executive director of Connecticut Against Violence, and Paul Mayer, a human resources specialist with the Schegg Group of Shelton whose work now involves training companies what to do if there is an active shooter.
Also involved was Gayle Oko, an
ambassador from the Sandy Hook Foundation which formed after the 2012 school shooting in Newtown that left 21 first graders and six educators dead.
“We need to remember we are not helpless,” said Oko. “We can take action. We need to take action.”
The general consensus in the room was that focusing on exercises like lockdown drills can do harm than good.
Many young children, speakers said, find lockdown drills terrifying. Stein said in talking with survivors of mass shootings, he has come to believe the best course of action is to run.
Faith Villegas, executive director of BPEF, called the program a dialogue.
“The goal was to get people to recognize that gun violence is not an urban or suburban issue anymore — it is an US issue,” Villegas said. “We wanted the conversation to encourage people to explore urban, mass and workplace violence from a human perspective and address biases that prevent us from collectively addressing this growing threat to our society.”
A documentary on the Emanuel shooting, shown during the program, brought many participants to tears.
Sheppard was one of those featured in the film.
It took time, and more resolve than she knew she had, but Sheppard is now on a mission that has taken her across the world to tell people to love, not hate, and to forgive.
A newly retired nurse, Sheppard had spent all day at the church cooking. Her girlfriend was doing bible study and challenged her to stay. Sheppard was tired but for some reason, stuck around, positioning herself close to the door, waiting for an opportunity to sneak out.
A young white man entered in a gray sweatshirt and jeans, Sheppard recalled. She pegged him as a college student. Emanuel AME, one of the oldest churches in the port city, is blocks away from the College of Charleston.
Among those he murdered were Clementa C. Pinckney, senior pastor of the church and a state senator, and 87yearold Susie Jackson. Jackson was shot 11 times.
Tywanza Sanders, 26, died in front of Shepard’s eyes. He was the son of Felicia Sanders, the friend who convinced Sheppard to stay and who also survived. A third survivor was Felicia Sander’s 8yearold granddaughter.
In the days that followed the shooting, Sheppard went to seven of the funerals.
She did not go to Roof ’s bail hearing following his capture. It was there that several family members of the victims publicly forgave the murderer.
Sheppard was not able to forgive so soon, she said. It took her months to talk about the shooting and a year of counseling before she said she reached forgiveness.
“It shouldn’t have taken me so long,” she said. “It is a process. Sometimes I get angry. The next day I forgive again.”
Forgiving, she adds, has nothing to do with Roof and everything to do with her healing.
Once content to work behind the scenes and never on stage, Sheppard has become a speaker, telling audiences there are too many guns and no need for assault rifles. She created a foundation to support nurses who work in the prison system as she did.
And the mother of four, grandmother of seven and greatgrandmother of 13, Sheppard — who turned 75 on Saturday —has even ventured once or twice to bible study, held in the same room at her church.
“It is hard for me,” she said. “I keep my eyes open. Wherever I go, I always look around to see what is going on, who is coming in. I always look for two ways out. A young person coming in with a back pack throws me off.”