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John— My entire life has been marked by domestic violence. I grew up in what appeared to be your average American family: A charming father, a lovely mother, two brothers, and a station wagon. On the outside, we looked like we had everything, but on the inside, we were broken and bruised. My father was physically, mentally, and sexually abusive, and after years of enduring his abuse, my mother courageously left him to start a new life with me and my brothers. But just two years later, she found herself back in a vicious cycle of domestic abuse with a new partner. On March 28, 1990, my mother, Cindy, was shot and killed by my stepfather. She was the glue that held us together—and her murder ripped my family apart. Devastatingly, this was just the beginning of my family's domestic violence story. I grew up without a model for a healthy relationship, and soon found myself caught up in similar cycles of abuse. But out of those relationships came two wonderful gifts: my son, Ryan, and my daughter, Kaila. Kaila, like me and my mother, struggled to make good choices in partners. She suffered through one violent relationship after another, resulting in several hospitalizations, a miscarriage, and an arson attempt. In January 2017, Kaila was admitted to the ICU in a coma for a traumatic brain injury she'd suffered at the hands of an abusive boyfriend. The prognosis was dire. But against miraculous odds, she recovered, relearning how to walk, talk, read, write, and feed herself. After her remarkable recovery, Kaila moved back to New Mexico, started dating a new man, moved in with him, and got engaged. But he was a chronic alcoholic, verbally abusive, and controlling. They argued constantly. I urged her to leave, but she felt trapped and hopeless. She was approved for a domestic violence housing program, but the wait list was over a year long. On February 2, 2019, I received a call from Kaila's phone: It was a police officer who told me that my daughter had been shot in the head during a domestic dispute, and Kaila's heart stopped in the helicopter en route to the hospital. A very large part of me died with her that day. I have a gaping hole in my life that will never be filled. The police tried for months to build a homicide case against Kaila's fiancé—but the case was dropped. As of today, he still walks free. Not only that—but he still has a license to carry a concealed weapon in New Mexico. John, my story is horrific, but I'm not here seeking sympathy. I'm asking you to take action to stop a dangerous bill proposed by Congress that would put guns in more hands in more public places and make it harder for law enforcement to know who has a gun.
This bill would create a mandate that would force states to recognize the concealed carry standards of every other state—even those with no standards at all. That means people with dangerous histories—domestic abusers, violent criminals, even convicted stalkers—could publicly carry hidden, loaded guns in states that wouldn't otherwise let them. Our leaders failed to protect my mother. They failed to protect Kaila. The last thing we need is for Congress to gut our state gun laws and put more people at risk by weakening our concealed carry standards. Send a message urging your lawmakers to reject Congress' dangerous Concealed Carry Mandate. I can't bring back my mother or Kaila. But I can honor them by fighting to keep guns out of the hands of domestic abusers. Thank you for taking action. Jennifer Sharp If you or someone you know is in crisis, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-SAFE (7233), available 24/7, for confidential assistance from a trained advocate, or text START to 88788 from anywhere in the U.S.  |
