The Day I Almost Became a Homicide Survivor

Before I wrote my first book in1987, I had spoken with hundreds of people whose loved ones were killed suddenly and catastrophically.  My passion for those suffering the traumatic deaths of loved ones continued to grow through nearly 50 years of practice.  I heard and I felt.  But because it hadn’t happened to me personally, I never once said, “I know how you feel.”

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 On October 6, 2021, I, too, received the call that I knew started it all for most of my clients and readers. My daughter was on the phone, her voice shaking: “Mom, I think he’s going to be OK, but there’s been a shooting at Calvin’s school, and he’s been shot. I need you to call the other kids.”

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Calvin is my first-born grandson, the 25-year-old English teacher shot while trying to intervene in a fight between two kids at Timberview High School in Mansfield, Texas. I asked her to repeat it because I was sure I hadn’t heard her correctly. I had.

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Because of my experience, I knew what to expect and what to do. I’m not saying it made it emotionally easier. I was terrified beyond my ability to find the right words. There simply were no words. My heart was pounding as I drove to the hospital.  I thought I might have to pull over and throw up.  I prayed, “Hold him Jesus. He’s in the midst of a storm. Keep him safe and keep him warm.”

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I knew to give ample attention to my body and heart, so that by the time I could walk into the hospital, I was calm.  I knew these things:

• I knew that, more than likely, Calvin had not felt pain when he was shot because of all the magnificent brain chemicals that fire through one’s body in the immediate aftermath of trauma. (Calvin later confirmed this. He knew that he fell in the school hallway, but didn’t know why until the pain came after he was in the ambulance.)

• I knew he had a decent chance of survival because he had been taken to a Trauma II hospital by ambulance rather than Care-Flighted to the Trauma I hospital some distance away.

• I knew that emergency health care professionals do not give the family information until they are sure they are telling the truth. The wait could be long. And I knew that the wait could end in a death notification.

• I knew that grandparents, like myself, get a double whammy when a grandchild is hurt. The first is the grandchild, but also his parents and their siblings. In this case, they arrived at the hospital one by one, as scared as I was, and needing comfort. I knew that all I needed to tell them was that it wasn’t any of our jobs to “be strong.” We simply needed to keep loving one another through our tears.

• I knew that, after a long wait, it would be the trauma surgeon who would bring us the truth. He did. He said that Calvin would survive but likely live the remainder of his life with a 45 bullet lodged in his chest, a mere 1/10 of an inch from his aorta. The bullet had crushed ribs and taken out a small piece of lung and clavicle. Those injuries slowed down the bullet enough to stop it where it did.

• I knew that, while profound gratitude poured from our hearts and souls at that moment, the trauma would not end there.

• I knew to call the best trauma-focused psychiatrist in our area to assess him for Acute Stress Disorder and potential PTSD as soon as he was able to go.

• I knew to call a trauma-focused therapist colleague to schedule appointments for myself and other family members.

• I knew to start filling out a Crime Victims Compensation application to get him certified immediately.

• I knew that Calvin would need protection from the media, and I knew how to do that.

• I knew that he would be a key witness in a criminal justice case and that there were many things he should not put on social media or talk about. I also knew that this would be a very long process but grateful that I knew his rights as a crime victim.

• I knew that it might take a while for his anger to surface, but that whatever the emerging emotions were, they were to be honored and respected. His reaction would not be about any weakness on his part; it would be about the senseless use of a gun in a public school by someone who chose to use it.

 

Hundreds of people in the United States have a similar experience every day, but their stories do not end as well as mine. Their lives end, in a way, when they are notified that their loved one died. I want to pass on what I have learned over the years. That’s why I write so much about them.  They are the experts on the long, challenging journey toward recovery, which is never complete. I am merely their messenger.

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Addendum: 2025

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Calvin continues to live with the bullet just the distance of one thin dime from his aorta.  Physicians cannot determine direct causation, but he has suffered from continuous health issues since being shot.  He developed PTSD that sometimes manifests full-blown and is sometimes only generalized anxiety.  He can no longer work in a school or other job that involves loud noise and chaos.  He works at home.  He does speak comfortably about what happened and is an excellent presenter.  He got married this year, and he and his wife have built a new home.  His shooter is in prison.