Harrowing scenes after Chiefs rally shooting, kids front & center, should haunt us all
A little before noon Wednesday, I walked toward the corner of Grand Boulevard and Pershing Road, the final turn of yet another Chiefs Super Bowl parade in downtown Kansas City.
There were two kids in front my colleague, Vahe Gregorian, and me, and they spent most of a cloudless, 65-degree day playfully wrestling with each other, older sister with the upper hand on her younger brother. When those bright red double-decker buses approached the corner, their parents would yell for their attention and they’d hop, one each, onto Mom and Dad’s shoulders.
The parents wanted to ensure their kids had a memory forever.
And now? Something they’ll never forget.
A nation that insists on educating its youngest and most vulnerable on gun violence with hands-on, first-person experience made its tour stop in Kansas City. Oh, and in Atlanta, too. And on the six-year anniversary of the Parkland shooting in Florida. These kinds of events — public shootings killing innocent people, whether bystanders to a dispute or the targets of lunatics — don’t even have their own day anymore.
They gathered by the hundreds of thousands here in downtown Kansas City — and it truly was striking how many were kids — to celebrate that Kansas City’s football team does it bigger and better than anyone.
They scattered out of there at the sound of a reminder of what America does better than everyone.
Protect the guns.
To hell with the kids.
Or any of the vulnerable.
Authorities have confirmed at least one person died when gun shots rang after the Chiefs departed the stage at their Union Station rally, with more than 20 others shot. On Thursday, police officials said a dispute led to the exchange of gunfire.
A Good Samaritan — notably, not a good guy with a gun — appears to have run to chase down and help apprehend someone. He is the hero that many of our politicians, those who run in the opposite direction and hide, refuse to be. Just five days ago, a candidate for the United States presidency stood in front of a crowd and bragged that he did nothing that would stop events like this. “We didn’t yield,” he said.
Nine kids who had attended a Super Bowl parade and rally in Kansas City were sent to Children’s Mercy Hospital, the victims of gunshot wounds. Their crime? Watching their favorite athletes stroll through a championship parade. The kids are all expected to survive, according to Children’s Mercy’s chief nursing officer Stephanie Meyer. Six had been released as of Thursday morning. Three remained hospital as of the afternoon.
Let me tell you about a couple survivors.
We found Gabe Wallace and Hank Hunter, two Shawnee Mission East sophomores, hugging, heads buried on each other’s shoulders, tears streaming down their faces, after they were separated during the frenzy that followed the gunfire. Wallace, with a large scrape and blood just below his left temple, said he thought at one point, “My friends are dead.”
This is what being one of the lucky ones looks like.
Betsy Solberg and her kids were directed into Union Station after the shooting, where a young girl, they estimated about 9 years old, had been separated from her parents. Solberg tried to console her, but the girl only spoke Spanish, and they were unable to communicate.
One thing, though, didn’t need translation.
“The girl was definitely scared,” Solberg said.
This is what being one of the lucky ones looks like.
Marc Coleman and his family, including his son, could hear the gunshots and ducked behind their soda-pop cooler for protection, until cops rushed over and screamed, “Run! Run for cover!”
“Scariest thing I’ve ever been through in my life,” he said.
One of the lucky ones.
The parade had been the ideal symbol of a Kansas City distinction. This place prides itself on its unity. Without a doubt, that’s always been more idealistic than reality. But even more than they love the Chiefs, Kansas Citians love Kansas City. A parade represented the opportunity to illustrate that to you all, a world audience.
This was supposed to be a break from reality. That’s what sports can offer so many. Kansas City turned out to celebrate another arrival at the top of the mountain. How many events can put darn near an entire city in a good mood?
But even as Kansas City might consider itself distinct, it is not immune to what makes America distinct.
You know the statistics. The Chiefs own the NFL trophies. America owns the gun trophies.
The guns trump all.
They have become such a norm in American culture — in our elementary schools, middle schools, high schools, churches, Jewish Community Centers, movie theaters, night clubs, office buildings, college campuses, grocery stores, shopping centers and championship celebrations — that by night’s end Wednesday, the post-parade shooting was not even the lead story on the websites of the New York Times, Washington Post or Wall Street Journal — the three newspapers with the country’s widest reach.
Just another day.
It will be. It can’t be. It will be.
Credit Chiefs safety Justin Reid for offering more than condolences — for calling on leaders to enact solutions. Those with the most influence — owners of the 32 NFL teams — could take a lesson from a player. Our leaders could, too.
Missouri Gov. Mike Parson probably thought he scored a few points just by having, gasp, the courage to mention the word “ass” while opening the Chiefs’ rally.
A day later, he blamed “thugs” for ruining the party.
As The Star’s political reporter, Kacen Bayless, noted, he left out one word during his interview with local radio host Pete Mundo:
Guns.
The courage to cuss. Not even the courage to state the obvious.
Trust me, I understand that’s what most of this column does — recites what we’ve been saying over and over again. On a day the Chiefs put four Lombardi Trophies on stage and opened up the possibility of doing this all over again next year, we can all be confident one thing is assured.
The guns will win.
