Yet here we are again. This time in Minneapolis, two children were killed and seventeen others were wounded during a morning Mass at Annunciation Catholic School. The shooter, a 23-year-old former student, had legally obtained multiple firearms. Investigators called it domestic terrorism and a hate crime. Parents ran toward the church as police rushed in. Teachers hid children in classrooms as gunfire shattered stained-glass windows. Another community left with grief, trauma, and questions.

I once focused my outrage primarily on assault-style rifles. Their power, speed, and lethality have turned too many classrooms into scenes of carnage. But the more we learn, the more it becomes clear: the issue is not just one category of weapon. It is access itself—who can purchase, how quickly, how securely firearms are stored, whether systems exist to intervene when someone signals danger to self or others. It is the absence of a national framework to prevent tragedies before the first shot is fired.

That is why former U.S. Surgeon General, Dr. Vivek Murthy, last year declared firearm violence a public health crisis. Like infectious disease or unsafe drinking water, gun violence demands prevention, data, and national standards—not empty moments of silence.

A Fourth-Grade Teacher’s Story

In Minneapolis, a fourth-grade teacher described crouching with her students behind a reading-corner bookshelf as shots rang out across the school courtyard. “We practiced lockdown drills,” she told reporters, “but no one is ready for the real thing. I held kids who were shaking so hard I could feel their teeth chatter.”

She said she kept wondering if her own daughter, in another wing of the building, was safe. When the police finally escorted them out, she saw backpacks, notebooks, and shoes scattered in the hallway like abandoned shells of the morning’s routine. The images will stay with her, as they stay with all who live through these moments—the EMS workers, the clergy, the journalists, the parents.

Stories like hers multiply with each headline. Behind every shooting are children who now sleep with lights on, parents who drive past schools with a pit in their stomach, and teachers who startle at loud noises during lessons. The physical injuries make the evening news; the invisible wounds last far, far longer.

The Public Health Toll on Children

Firearms are now the leading cause of death for American children and adolescents. More than 4,300 young lives are lost each year; more than 17,000 more are injured. Nearly three million children witness gun violence annually or know someone who has. The trauma is cumulative, echoing across classrooms, playgrounds, sports fields, and bedrooms.

Research shows that students exposed to shootings experience higher rates of anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress. They miss school more. They struggle academically. Some never fully regain a sense of safety. This is not speculation. There have been so many school shootings over the years that the research is now documented in peer-reviewed studies, public health data, and the lived experiences of families and teachers.

Some argue that mental illness drives the crisis. As someone who has worked in health for decades, I believe access to mental health services is essential—not as an excuse to avoid firearm legislation, but as part of the same continuum of prevention. Other nations face mental health challenges, yet do not endure this level of gun violence. The difference is access. Here in the United States, it remains far too easy for a person in crisis or with violent intent to legally obtain a firearm.

Toward Responsibility and Prevention

Minnesota illustrates both progress and limits. The state expanded background checks to cover private firearm transfers, created a “red flag” law to temporarily remove guns from those deemed dangerous, and increased penalties for illegal sales. Yet even with these measures, the Minneapolis shooter obtained his weapons legally. A patchwork of state laws will never suffice when lives hang in the balance.

We need a national standard for responsible firearm ownership—one that honors Constitutional rights while protecting children. Licensing, universal background checks, and safe-storage requirements should be as unquestioned as seat belts or smoke detectors. Risk-based removal laws must function across state lines with due process but without delay. Community programs proven to prevent shootings, such as anonymous tip lines and school threat assessment teams, need funding and visibility so students and parents know where to turn before tragedy strikes.

Most of all, lawmakers must open their hearts and eyes to the horror.  They must confront what first responders see. I have long argued that Members of Congress should be required to witness, under privacy safeguards, the first responders’ body-camera footage and the aftermath of school shootings. Not to sensationalize grief, but to dissolve the distance between policy debate and reality. Denial rarely survives the sight of a child’s backpack in a hallway where blood still pools.

A Shared Obligation

Public health history offers lessons. We reduced car-crash deaths with seat belts and airbags. We curbed smoking with education, restrictions, and cultural change. We cut drunk-driving fatalities through laws, enforcement, and awareness. None of it was instant. All of it began with the recognition that prevention works when society chooses to act.

Gun violence demands the same choice. Children deserve classrooms where the loudest sound is laughter, not gunfire. Parents deserve to see their kids run from the school doors at day’s end, not into the arms of waiting police officers. Responsible gun owners deserve the clarity and safety that national standards provide, shielding them from theft, misuse, and the consequences of someone else’s negligence.

Two years ago, I asked: If the deaths of small children do not move us to act, what will? After Minneapolis, after Uvalde, after Sandy Hook and Parkland, the question remains. The answer cannot be more vigils, more drills, political speeches, or more hollow condolences. The answer must be prevention, responsibility, and the courage to act before the next siren sounds.

The post If Our Children’s Fear Doesn’t Move Us to Act, What Will? appeared first on Medika Life.

The horror of the loss will not fade. The searing pain of having to bury your child will never abate. The screams inside the hearts of these parents will never go silent. While the nation will have moved on from the tragedy, those left behind will have to deal with the unimaginable for the rest of their lives.

I lost my child to cancer in June 2009. It was the absolute worst day of my life. There is not a day that goes by in which my heart does not scream out in pain. It only takes a few moments of remembering the events of that horrible day to bring tears streaming down my face. The pain and horror of losing a child cannot be fully described by words.

A good friend of mine told me it is like having “an appendage ripped out of you.” It is much, much worse than that. It is a deep, searing, boring pain that is suffocating. And it never goes away. It will be 13 years next month, and the pain is as fresh as it was all those years ago.

At least my daughter died due to complications of cancer and the toxic chemotherapy used to treat it. I can wrap my head around that. I cannot wrap my head around losing my child to the senseless evil of a sick and depraved murderer. I cannot wrap my head around dropping my child off to school in the morning and then getting a call that he has been killed in the afternoon. Having lost a child, I still cannot even imagine this kind of terror.

But 19 families are currently going through this terror right now. 19 families are having to live with the unimaginable. 19 families are now enduring a torment and suffering that has no word in any language to describe it. Someone who loses his or her spouse is a widow or widower. A child who loses her parent is an orphan. There is no word to describe a parent who has buried his or her child. It is a monstrosity that is beyond description.

And 19 families are now dealing with this monstrosity head on. The attention on their tragedy by others will fade. Their pain, their suffering, their torment, the suffocation of their souls will never fade. Never.

And so, what can we do to help these families?

First of all, there are no words that can help. None. When they were putting dirt on my daughter’s pink casket, I became overwhelmed by the thought that my daughter is being buried, and I openly sobbed. Someone came from behind me and uttered the “right religious thing” to say. It backfired miserably. I was not comforted in the least.

What helped me the most was my friend, also coming up from behind me, holding my hand. I will never forget that or forget him for the rest of my life. We need to do the same for these families: reach out and hold their hands. Give them your shoulder to cry upon. Hug them and let them scream into your chest. Give them a space where they don’t have to “be strong,” because they are going through a pain that is indescribable in its horror.

As the days, and weeks, and months go by, the attention, the “thoughts and prayers,” and focus on Uvalde, Texas will fade. The nation – and the world – will move one. The pain and suffering of these families will not.

They will be going through their “Year of Firsts”: the first Memorial Day; the first Fourth of July; the first Halloween; the first Thanksgiving; the first Christmas; the first Birthday without their child. The same is true for the families of the two teachers also killed. It is a suffering unbearable in its scope and magnitude. Continue to be there for them as they try to pick up the pieces of their utterly shattered hearts. Continue to give them your hand, your shoulder, your hugs.

My heart bleeds and goes out to each and everyone affected by this horrific tragedy in Uvalde, Texas. My heart bleeds for each and every person – all over our country and the world – who has deal with the loss of a loved one, most especially a child. Lord our God, please comfort and heal them as only You can. Amen.

The post The Attention On Uvalde Will Fade. The Horror Will Not appeared first on Medika Life.

We know police officers have three things they may share with those who wish to end their misery; high rates of suicide, substance abuse disorders, and marital difficulties. Mental health disorders do not disappear once a uniform is donned. The nature of the job brings them into contact with trauma on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis. It is not a job for the faint of heart.

A review of research over the past 20 years on those who choose to commit suicide by cop indicates that the typical perpetrator is a younger white male experiencing romantic relationship conflicts. There is also a significant mental health and criminal history.

The individual is often intoxicated at the time of the incident and is mentally impaired in their ability to recognize what they are pursuing. The most effective interventions by police are expected to be limited to verbal interactions related to the individual’s presenting problems. It’s a process of understanding and going slow. But there’s something more than an attempt at suicide here.

An important aspect of suicide by cops which cannot be ignored is the long-term effects of these types of situations for the police involved, who may experience a level of PTSD not previously explored. And let’s not forget that the incident may happen in a shool where the individual has many students who can be victims which escalates the deadliness of the situation.

In fact, school shootings have become endemic in our 21 Century culture with the ease of obtaining deadly weapons and protective gear. The number of students exposed to school gun violence since the killings at Columbine is an astounding 278,000 at 298 schools. How many of those kids will go on to have lives seriously affected by these shootings?

We know that the police incidence of PTSD related to violence in their line of work is also of great concern. “Approximately 15% of the police officers in the U.S. and globally experience symptoms of PTSD. Numbers can be much higher based on exposure, such as after natural disasters or tragedies like 9/11.”

But one other factor here is the fact that not all police personnel will report their difficulties or seek counseling, fearing it will affect their careers or how they are seen by others. We see the same reluctance to seek help in the military and healthcare professions. The numbers may be quite conservative.

Whether the shooters intended to kill as many victims as possible and, in the process, go out in a blaze of police gunfire is immaterial. The fact remains that mental health issues are becoming a serious concern for police, school safety officers, school administrators, teachers and ancillary school personnel. Anyone is fair game in these shootings and some will be collateral damage of stray bullets in the foray.

How many kids are, realistically, expressing a reluctance or refusal to go to school fearing they may be killed? This is no longer the attachment problems or school concerns we used to see. These kids are terrified and yet we expect them to return to a school where perhaps nothing happened, but they know all about the schools where kids and teachers were killed.

The danger isn’t necessarily from someone who comes into the school; they’re fellow students. Not even the metal detectors (and not all schools have them) are reassurance. Guns aren’t always the weapons used, as we’ve seen in other countries where knives and hammers have been used to harm or kill children.

The kids in Oxford, Michigan had been hearing of concerns about danger and it wasn’t just a silly fantasy, students died. When a ten-year-old boy tells his mother he doesn’t want to go to school and he’s seen the school psychologist once (did the psychologist think that was enough?), what does a parent do? Kids are asking who’s next? One survey found 91% of teachers are stressed.

Will home schooling become more prevalent as little is done to control the killings in schools by controlling their access to guns or treatment for their mental health problems? How many schools have a full-time school nurse available, much less a psychologist or other counselor? The need increase while the access decreases.

The generation growing up now will be in a world very different from the one we knew. Walking to school has already become unacceptable, going to a school wearing a bulletproof backpack may be suggested and school shooting drills will replace the nuclear bomb ones of the 1950s. Now, however, the fear is real, not a world away, but only a classroom away.

Our kids and our police need our support and our help in more ways than we currently know. How can each of us help? The question is vital and we must include it in discussions at school and in our homes.

The post Suicide by Cop Results in Shared Pain and Mental Illness appeared first on Medika Life.