In 1990, my dad was shot and killed in our home in Dallas. At the time, my mom was at a Dallas School Board meeting, and I was at graduate school in Austin. By the time I arrived at the scene, there was blood and yellow police tape still in my childhood home, and no explanation of who had taken my dad away from us. The crime never was solved.
My family and I were devastated, particularly as this came just five years after my brother was killed by a drunk driver. My dad had been a great father, always present for school events, participating as a Boy Scout troop leader, compassionate and hard-working. His sudden death was extremely painful.
That was 32 years ago. It took me years to heal, and I still and always will miss my dad. Retelling the story brings back the pain to mind. Nevertheless, I will continue to tell my story and to propose and push forward gun safety legislation to decrease the number of senseless deaths in our communities. We must have a culture of love, not a gun culture.