South Carolina families hurt by gun violence ask what can be done

Santa Castellon sits alone in a living room with orange and yellow walls that are pierced with bullet holes. There were nearly 25 of them, the detective working on the case told her. Twenty-five that hit the wall she painted the color of the sun.

The marks are random. One wedged into the upholstery of the couch downstairs, another on her red front door. Upstairs, a cluster of bullet holes dots the plane of the drywall, moldings and cupboards.

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Investigators confirmed that the family was not the intended target, but the scars are theirs to bear.

On the night of Jan. 18, at 11:40 p.m., a fight involving three teenagers and one 21-year-old devolved into a drive-by shooting. From the dozens of gunshots that flew into her Eunice Drive apartment, a bullet flew clean through the pillow where her 19-year-old son Eliel sleeps. Castellon said Eliel was in the bathroom at the time of the shooting.

Another hit her 6-year-old son, Angel, precariously close to the base of his spine.

Initial report: Child shot while in bed at Greenville apartment complex

In the last three years, between January 2019 and January 2022, 11 children under the age of 18 were victims of shootings in Greenville County, according to records obtained from the Greenville Police Department and the Greenville County Sheriff's Office.

The three teens and the 21-year-old involved in the shooting were charged with four counts of attempted murder, two counts of discharging a firearm into a dwelling and criminal conspiracy, according to arrest warrants from the Sheriff's Office.

More details: 4 charged in child's shooting at Greenville apartment complex

The exact reason the shooting took place outside the apartment complex is unclear, but gun safety activists and policymakers are questioning the protections and guardrails that exist to limit gun violence in South carolina.

Though her son's injuries are at the center of the family’s trauma, Castellon has thought about the other children in her story. The ones who fired the gunshots.

According to data collected by Everytown, a gun safety advocacy group, firearms were the leading cause of death for children and teens in the state.

Seventy-eight children and teens, on average, die annually by guns in South Carolina, and 58% of those deaths are homicides.

Community activists ask whether there should be harsher penalties for a shooting where a child is harmed, or whether the state should punish gun owners for not storing their firearms responsibly and focus on harm-reducing behavior?

'We've never felt safe here'

Kevin Allen, 18, has two dreams: grow his dog breeding business, Diesel Bullyz, and move out of the neighborhood whenever he’s able to. "I've got big dreams," he said, seeming old and young, all at the same time.

On the night of the shooting, Allen was at home, across the street from the Castellons, when he heard a series of shots. "I instantly thought it was for me and my family," he said.

Meanwhile, in Castellon’s apartment, she and her partner leapt out of bed to get their kids after they heard the ring of the gunshots.

"I'm a child of God," Castellon said, recalling the night of the shooting. Her faith had always given her signs, and one came to her that morning as a dream of Angel in her arms, unmoving, she said.

“Sometimes, I feel like God was letting me know that something was going to happen to my child,” she said. So she beelined for Angel, whose room was in the furthest corner of the house.

When she saw him lying on his bed, she could see he was awake but he could not get up from his bed.

"Mom it hurts," Angel said. "Someone shot me."

"No, that's not possible," Castellon recalled telling him. She did not realize that bullets had flown through the window.

Across the street, the proximity was jarring for Allen. It felt like the shots were fired right outside his door on his driveway, he said.

"Me and my father and my cousin got up, we didn't know what happened and five minutes later there's like 25 cops that pulled up and I instantly knew somebody got shot."

Castellon is a petite woman, no taller than 4'11. She nestled her son in the crook of her arms. She said she attempted to suck the blood out of the wound because she heard that it would prevent the wound from clotting.

"You can't die," she told her son.

'Nobody wants their kids to be afraid'

The flashing lights from police cars weren't new to Allen as they patrolled the streets daily. The neighborhood is in a school zone, only a mile or two away from Berea High School, where Allen recently graduated.

Some of Allen's neighbors referred to the apartment complex that Castellon lived in as the "problem area" of the neighborhood. This is the seedy part of a neighborhood, they said, inhabited by a majority of Black and Hispanic families, embattled by drugs and routine shootings.

In 2020, the apartments on Eunice Drive had five calls for service in relation to discharging a weapon, two in 2021, and as of Feb. 11, 2022, two additional discharging a weapon calls.

But Allen sees the opposite.

"When I come outside, there's always kids playing but they don't have the yard to really do that," Allen said pointing at the driveway leading up to the apartment.

"Like with anything, they have to be aware," Allen said about being safe. "Nobody wants their kids to be afraid," he said. "Unfortunately that's how it is over here, but you gotta stack up and move your kids to a better place. That’s what I’m trying to do."

'We need to do something about this'

Jack Logan, a longtime community activist, is a familiar face among law enforcement in the Upstate; he is almost always one of the first to arrive at the scene of a shooting. Back in January, Logan said that there has to be harsher sentencing for gun incidents where a child is harmed by the bullet.

Logan is the founder of Put Down The Guns Now Young People, an organization whose purpose is to educate children and teens about the repercussions of gun violence. The organization hands out gunlocks and works with local leaders to guide adolescents to not pick up guns.

So he wrote an email addressed to veteran state Rep. Garry Smith, R-Greenville, and copied news outlets and other Upstate lawmakers.

In his email, Logan asked for a bill that would mandate a minimum 30-year sentence. Those found guilty should not be allowed probation and neither should their sentencing be suspended, he said.

Rep. Chandra Dillard, D-Greenville, who was also sent the email, responded.

Several years ago, she wrote in the email, she had filed a bill that would add penalties for those who did not store their guns responsibly when a minor child is in the home and causes harm to these children.

Logan, who has for years played the messenger, alerted Dillard of a shooting where a child mistook a gun for a toy and unintentionally fatally shot himself. The child was 2.

“The Legislature has not seen fit to advance this bill by giving it a hearing,” Dillard wrote in the email.

Rep. Jermaine Johnson, D-Richland, also followed up with a bill that set penalties for adults who did not store their firearms in a locked storage box.

Dillard told The Greenville News that bills that were pre-filed were supposed to get hearings, but no action has ever taken place.

Last year, there were at least 15 unintentional shootings by children, resulting in five deaths and 11 injuries in the state, according to the state Department of Health and Environment Control and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Smith, who the original email was addressed to, told The News that as a grandfather, he certainly wanted to see better protections in place. However, if Dillard wanted a hearing, she had to simply ask for it, he said.

There are no state or federal laws that require citizens to store guns in a storage lockbox, though federal law requires that all handguns sold by dealers need to be sold with a gun safety device like a cable lock.

Bridgette Watson, associated with the Safe Kids Upstate and the Bradshaw Institute for Community Child Health & Advocacy, said that her experience surveying communities in the Upstate showed an unfortunate disconnect in perceptions.

In a quick survey at a community event, Watson's team asked parents if they owned a gun and if so, did their child know where it was.

Then they asked the children, who were with the parents and were old enough to answer if there was a gun in their home and if yes, did they know where it was.

"There was such a disconnect. Majority of the parents thought the kids did not know where the gun was," Watson said. But that wasn’t the case. An overwhelming majority of the kids, she said, actually knew where the gun was kept.

Watson said according to experts, secure firearms storage encompasses three methods. First is making sure that all of the ammunition is removed from the firearm, including anything in the chamber. Second is ensuring that it is locked in a proper locking device. And finally, making sure the ammunition is stored separately from the firearm.

And in states with high gun ownership, like South Carolina, children have been in the vicinity of firearms more often because they have been spending more time at home.

"Gun sales increased 64% in 2020 and with kids spending more time at home during the COVID-19 pandemic, the risks of gun violence grew―making it even more important that firearms are stored securely," Watson wrote in an email.

I’m just always looking out for my kids'

Six-year-old Angel is healing well and has returned to school. Yet, ever since that day, Angel has asked his mom, "Am I going to die?” and “Are they going to kill me?"

Santa Castellon always tells him, "No. You can't die."

There is much that the 40-year-old has seen in her life. She moved from Honduras in 2003, knowing little to no English. She said she has never looked back and that her faith has carried her, supporting her, wherever she goes.

She was pregnant when she first came to the U.S., she said, as she recounted details of her past, of why she is always looking out for her kids, especially her youngest.

In her living room, with a lamp casting a dim glow, she doesn’t say much at first, until she's asked if she’s OK.

"I'm not feeling OK, to be honest. It's something that sticks with you for the rest of your life," she said. "Even when I'm driving, I see it. Why do I keep seeing that he's dead? I'm not OK, I don't know what to do," Castellon said through tears, her words becoming faster in Spanish.

She’s had dreams before and the ones about her children are the ones that weigh on her the most, she said. Call it a mother’s instinct or just a gut feeling, the two she has seen so far have come true.

"It's really sad to think that this happened to him at his young age," Castellon said.

The thought of moving houses has crossed her mind before, she said, glancing from one end of the living room to another. But she knows deep down that moving out of the area isn't going to erase the memories of the night or the recurring dreams, she said.

"But at least for the kids, I think it'll be better for them because they won't feel like they are getting shot," she said.

The night of Jan. 18 doesn't just leave her and her son in a fray but also her 8-year-old daughter, Scarleth, who would rather not sleep alone anymore.

Through it all, Castellon is not angry, neither is she revengeful. All she knows is that her son is alive and maybe this is a way for God to test her, she said. That’s a trait that she’s proud of because to her, it goes beyond the confines of her family.

“I know their mothers are probably suffering and their hearts are hurting for their children," Castellon said about the alleged shooters, three of whom are teenagers.

In the back of her mind, she hopes God will touch them and heal them, she said.

"Maybe being in jail is going to help them and maybe it will be a lesson learned. Maybe they'll come out with a different mentality than what they had before. I don't know if they have their parents or if they have kids but I hope they can go to jail and reflect on what's happened," she said.

Calls to attorneys of Narionna Ahshe Young-Dendy, Jiyana Aneice Irby-Addison, Jeremiah Raquan Madison and Fredrick Jacques Antonio Ellis, were not returned. All four are being held in the Greenville County Detention Center without bond and awaiting trial.

Castellon always tells her children that they have to be good people and if someone treats them poorly, they shouldn't retaliate or use the same treatment that the alleged attackers used against them.

In the days after the shooting, she has thought about all the times she hasn't been to church and how she has been rebellious. But God was calling her now, she said, so she is looking for one to share her testimony.

But in her mind, the thought always remains, why did this happen to my child and her tone changes, growing more forceful.

Weapons are what hurt the Castellon family.

"I wish I had it in my power to make it so that weapons wouldn't exist. If I had power, I would destroy them all," Castellon said.

Tamia Boyd is a Michigan native who covers breaking news in Greenville. Email her at tboyd@gannett.com, and follow her on Twitter @tamiamb.

Devyani Chhetri is the state government watchdog reporter. You can reach her at dchhetri@gannett.com or @ChhetriDevyani on Twitter. Sign up for her weekly newsletter, Upstate Capitol Report, to get the inside scoop on South Carolina politics, straight from her, every Monday.

Helen Loaiza interpreted interviews for this story, and the Spanish version of this story was translated by Brian Muñoz. You can follow him on Twitter at @brianmunoz

This article originally appeared on Greenville News: Greenville SC mother talks about drive-by shooting that injured son, 6