In the wake of the recent Navy Yard shootings and the deaths of 12 victims (so far, not counting the deceased gunman), I’m reminded again of the conversations we seem to always have not only about gun control, but about the very dangerous intersection of the ability of those with mental health issues to obtain guns and, sadly, wreak havoc on innocent victims. Washington Post writer Paul Farhi has rightly commented today that when it comes to mass shooting events, they have a very short media shelf life, as the 24/7 cable beast needs to be fed stories that are all new, all the time, rather than actually using the time they have to examine how and why such incidents occur, and what we could collectively be doing to change things.
So I was reminded about the piece I wrote two years ago, shortly after then-Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, and others, were shot at a constituent event in Tucson. I thought it was worth re-running in the aftermath of the deaths caused at the hands of Aaron Alexis, someone who had so many red flags raised about him, that he should never have been allowed to purchase any guns:
Rep. Gabrielle Giffords didn’t know she had a stalker, though she knew that she was being threatened after her Tucson congressional office was vandalized in the wake of her vote in favor of health care reform. She didn’t know that several people had expressed concern about the mental stability of her constituent Jared Loughner, who had, according to reports, become obsessed with her to the point of writing notes about his plans to hurt her, or worse. While some people were worried about Loughner’s interest in guns and his potential to harm others, apparently no one was able to do anything about those concerns other than to have him expelled from his community college.
As the story has unfolded about Loughner, it’s been hard for me not to think about my own experience being stalked. Not in the same way that Giffords was targeted, but stalked all the same.
After a while, the letters stopped, but then started coming again after I had moved from that city. I don’t know how he found me that time, but my reports of threatening letters continued to go ignored until, one day, this man’s family told the police he had started threatening some of them as well and had been diagnosed with a mental issue that was finally being treated.
I was extremely lucky that, at last, this person was getting help before he was able to hurt me or anyone else. During those years of being stalked, I tried to take it all in stride. I pretended to stay calm, being aware of my surroundings constantly and doing my best never to be out alone. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried that some night this person I didn’t even know would find me and that he’d have a gun.
I am telling this story not to ask for sympathy or compare my situation in any way to what happened in Tucson. I am telling the story for this reason — pretty much nothing has changed in almost 30 years when it comes to how authorities and those in positions of responsibility react, or don’t react, when someone with questionable mental stability starts acting in a threatening manner. Combine that with the fact that pretty much anyone can get a gun, and that’s a recipe for continuing disaster.
In the days since the horrific tragedy in Tucson, many questions have been raised: Should Giffords have had some type of security at her meet-and-greet event? Should all members of Congress rethink safety issues at constituent meetings? Will Congress increase security measures on Capitol Hill? All fair queries, but it feels like we’re thinking of only one side of this coin — the side that calls for more police, more screening, and more guns. Little is being said about the other glaring issue: Could this whole incident have been prevented if someone had done more when questions were raised about Loughner’s mental state and his potential to harm others, especially in a state where it’s almost as easy to buy a gun as it is to buy a latte at Starbucks?
Even though at least one of Loughner’s professors and some of his classmates have said he acted quite strangely and threateningly in class — and they acknowledged their fear that someday he would show up in the classroom with a gun and start shooting — there was little they could do to make him get help to prevent that possible scenario. As someone said on one of the talking-head shows, if Loughner had shown up drunk in class a variety of times, someone would have gotten him into rehab. Yet even as people who shared a classroom with Loughner feared for their lives, the only thing the school could do was suspend him and bar him from campus.
At least one lawmaker is speaking out about making this moment a turning point in how we view the seriousness of mental issues and why we should also turn our focus to mending the social safety net. U.S. Senator Sherrod Brown (D-OH) has been reminding us on a variety of cable news shows that, while it’s all well and good to consider increased levels of security, we also have to find a way to provide mental health services to those like Loughner before they become part of another national tragedy. Obviously, it will take a lot more than discussing the dearth of mental health services to prevent another outcome like the one in Tucson. But it’s as good a place as any to start.
So, can anything really change, or do we have to keep watching over our shoulders for the next incident like the one at the Navy Yard in Washington, D.C.?
Joanne Bamberger is the publisher and editor-in-chief of The Broad Side. She was formerly known around these internet parts as PunditMom, but now she is trying to be herself. She is the author of Mothers of Intention: How Women and Social Media are Revolutionizing Politics in America (an Amazon.com bestseller and now available in E-book form!). She was recently awarded the Campaigns & Elections Magazine/CampaignTech 2013 Advocacy Innovator Award for her research and writing on the power and influence of women online. Joanne is a “recovering lawyer,” but she is still well-versed in her litigator skills and courtroom practices.