I thank the gentleman for yielding. This is a serious piece of work for me today because less than a year ago, one of our colleagues from Arizona was shot in the head while she was trying to convene…
I thank the gentleman for yielding.
This is a serious piece of work for me today because less than a year ago, one of our colleagues from Arizona was shot in the head while she was trying to convene with her constituents outside a supermarket. The mayhem was awful. A little 9-year-old girl named Christina-Taylor Green, a baseball fan who just came to see her Congresswoman, was killed. And by all accounts, an extraordinary Federal judge named John Roll died as well as some of Gabby's staff. Numbers of people were wounded. And yet the only person ever considered by this House would be the guy and his right to have that gun. What about the rights for the rest of us? Are we going to have to learn to dance up and down the street to try to escape the bullets? What happens to us? What about an amendment for us to ensure that we can be safe?
The statistics of people now being killed in places of worship, the rising number of people in law enforcement who face unspeakable and awful things because we won't do our job here to disarm people who are mentally ill.
I would like to insert into the Record an article from the New York Times on how easy it is for felons, including the mentally ill, to regain their gun rights.
When are we going to reinstate in this House the automatic weapons ban, and why don't we outlaw guns that are so powerful that they serve no purpose at all in a civilized society? When will we allow the Federal authorities to computerize gun sale records so it is easier to hold guilty individuals responsible for their gun crimes?
In the age of iPhones and Androids, our police are tracing gun crimes with scraps of paper and handwritten notes. Surely that is a more important job for us to do here than what we're doing--to say you can carry a concealed weapon anywhere you want to go because that's who we are. Apparently, the Republican majority wants that.
Based on today's bill, they think it is more important to pass legislation that will make it easier to carry a gun to a public gathering, easier to carry a loaded weapon into NFL stadiums, easier to carry a gun to the grocery store on Saturday noon, or into your temple or your church. What in the world? How can we ever explain that to people who have had gun deaths in their family?
The horrible shooting of our colleague wouldn't have been stopped with the passage of today's bill, and no one is made safer by allowing guns into public space. And since last January, Congress hasn't considered a single piece of legislation that would make it harder for a mentally ill individual to get a gun. We have done nothing at all to make sure that another nightmare like the one in Tucson doesn't visit our country yet again, leaving innocent children, men, and women victims to a loaded gun. And yet the only person we care about here is the gun owner.
The only legislation we are considering will make it more convenient to carry your gun even in States that don't want it. Realizing this fact really puts the morality of this agenda into perspective.
This Congress should be considering legislation that will help the American people, not legislation that fulfills an ideological agenda, which is what we've been doing all year. I urge my colleagues to vigorously oppose today's legislation.
[From the New York Times, Nov. 13, 2011]
Felons Finding It Easy to Regain Gun Rights
(By Michael Luo)
In February 2005, Erik Zettergren came home from a party
after midnight with his girlfriend and another couple. They
had all been drinking heavily, and soon the other man and Mr.
Zettergren's girlfriend passed out on his bed. When Mr.
Zettergren went to check on them later, he found his
girlfriend naked from the waist down and the other man, Jason
Robinson, with his pants around his ankles.
Enraged, Mr. Zettergren ordered Mr. Robinson to leave.
After a brief confrontation, Mr. Zettergren shot him in the
temple at point-blank range with a Glock-17 semiautomatic
handgun. He then forced Mr. Robinson's hysterical fiancee, at
gunpoint, to help him dispose of the body in a nearby river.
It was the first homicide in more than 30 years in the
small town of Endicott, in eastern Washington. But for a
judge's ruling two months before, it would probably never
have happened.
For years, Mr. Zettergren had been barred from possessing
firearms because of two felony convictions. He had a history
of mental health problems and friends said he was dangerous.
Yet Mr. Zettergren's gun rights were restored without even a
hearing, under a state law that gave the judge no leeway to
deny the application as long as certain basic requirements
had been met. Mr. Zettergren, then 36, wasted no time
retrieving several guns he had given to a friend for
safekeeping.
``If he hadn't had his rights restored, in this particular
instance, it probably would have saved the life of the other
person,'' said Denis Tracy, the prosecutor in Whitman County,
who handled the murder case.
Under federal law, people with felony convictions forfeit
their right to bear arms. Yet every year, thousands of felons
across the country have those rights reinstated, often with
little or no review. In several states, they include people
convicted of violent crimes, including first-degree murder
and manslaughter, an examination by The New York Times has
found.
While previously a small number of felons were able to
reclaim their gun rights, the process became commonplace in
many states in the late 1980s, after Congress started
allowing state laws to dictate these reinstatements--part of
an overhaul of federal gun laws orchestrated by the National
Rifle Association. The restoration movement has gathered
force in recent years, as gun rights advocates have sought to
capitalize on the 2008 Supreme Court ruling that the Second
Amendment protects an individual's right to bear arms.
This gradual pulling back of what many Americans have
unquestioningly assumed was a blanket prohibition has drawn
relatively little public notice. Indeed, state law
enforcement agencies have scant information, if any, on which
felons are getting their gun rights back, let alone how many
have gone on to commit new crimes.
While many states continue to make it very difficult for
felons to get their gun rights back--and federal felons are
out of luck without a presidential pardon--many other
jurisdictions are far more lenient, The Times found. In some,
restoration is automatic for nonviolent felons as soon as
they complete their sentences. In others, the decision is
left up to judges, but the standards are generally vague, the
process often perfunctory. In some states, even violent
felons face a relatively low bar, with no waiting period
before they can apply.
The Times examined hundreds of restoration cases in several
states, among them Minnesota, where William James Holisky II,
who had a history of stalking and terrorizing women, got his
gun rights back last year, just six months after completing a
three-year prison sentence for firing a shotgun into the
house of a woman who had broken up with him after a handful
of dates. She and her son were inside at the time of the
shooting.
``My whole family's convinced that at some point he'll blow
a gasket and that he'll
come and shoot someone,'' said Vicky Holisky-Crets, Mr.
Holisky's sister.
Also last year, a judge in Cleveland restored gun rights to
Charles C. Hairston, who had been convicted of first-degree
murder in North Carolina in 1971 for shooting a grocery store
owner in the head with a shotgun. He also had another felony
conviction, in 1995, for corruption of a minor.
Margaret C. Love, a pardon lawyer based in Washington,
D.C., who has researched gun rights restoration laws,
estimated that, depending on the type of crime, in more than
half the states felons have a reasonable chance of getting
back their gun rights.
That universe could well expand, as pro-gun groups shed a
historical reluctance to advocate publicly for gun rights for
felons. Lawyers litigating Second Amendment issues are also
starting to challenge the more restrictive restoration laws.
Pro-gun groups have pressed the issue in the last few years
in states as diverse as Alaska, Ohio, Oregon and Tennessee.
Ohio's Legislature confronted the matter when it passed a
law this year fixing a technicality that threatened to
invalidate the state's restorations.
Ken Hanson, legislative chairman of the Buckeye Firearms
Coalition, argued that felons should be able to reclaim their
gun rights just as they can other civil rights.
``If it's a constitutional right, you treat it with equal
dignity with other rights,'' he said.
But Toby Hoover, executive director of the Ohio Coalition
Against Gun Violence, contended that the public was safer
without guns in the hands of people who have committed
serious crimes.
``It seems that Ohio legislators have plenty of problems to
solve that should be a much higher priority than making sure
criminals have guns,'' Ms. Hoover said in written testimony.
That question--whether the restorations pose a risk to
public safety--has received little study, in part because
data can be hard to come by.
The Times analyzed data from Washington State, where Mr.
Zettergren had his gun rights restored. The most serious
felons are barred, but otherwise judges have no discretion to
reject the petitions, as long as the applicant fulfills
certain criteria. (In 2003, a state appeals court panel
stated that a petitioner ``had no burden to show that he is
safe to own or possess guns.'')
Since 1995, more than 3,300 felons and people convicted of
domestic violence misdemeanors have regained their gun rights
in the state--430 in 2010 alone--according to the analysis of
data provided by the state police and the court system. Of
that number, more than 400--about 13 percent--have
subsequently committed new crimes, the analysis found. More
than 200 committed felonies, including murder, assault in the
first and second degree, child rape and drive-by shooting.
Even some felons who have regained their firearms rights
say the process needs to be more rigorous.
``It's kind of spooky, isn't it?'' said Beau Krueger, who
has two assaults on his record and got his gun rights back
last year in Minnesota after only a brief hearing, in which
local prosecutors did not even participate. ``We could have
all kinds of crazy hoodlums out here with guns that shouldn't
have guns.''
powerful lobby prevails
The federal firearms prohibition for felons dates to the
late 1960s, when the assassinations of the Rev. Dr. Martin
Luther King Jr. and Senator Robert F. Kennedy, along with
rioting across the country, set off a clamor for stricter gun
control laws. Congress enacted sweeping legislation that
included a provision extending the firearms ban for convicted
criminals beyond those who had committed ``crimes of
violence,'' a standard adopted in the 1930s.
``All of our people who are deeply concerned about law and
order should hail this day,'' President Lyndon B. Johnson
said upon signing the Gun Control Act in October 1968.
Even the N.R.A. backed the bill. But by the late 1970s, a
more hard-line faction, committed to an expansive view of the
Second Amendment, had taken control of the group. A crowning
achievement was the Firearm Owners Protection Act of 1986,
which significantly loosened federal gun laws.
When it came to felons' gun rights, the legislation
essentially left the matter up to states. The federal gun
restrictions would no longer apply if a state had restored a
felon's civil rights--to vote, sit on a jury and hold public
office--and the individual faced no other firearms
prohibitions.
The restoration issue drew relatively little notice in the
Congressional battle over the bill. But officials of the
federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms identified
the provision in an internal memo as among their serious
concerns. Some state law enforcement officials also sounded
the alarm.
When Senator David F. Durenberger, a Minnesota Republican,
realized after the law passed that thousands of felons,
including those convicted of violent crimes, in his state
would suddenly be getting their gun rights back, he sought
the N.R.A.'s help in rolling back the provision. Doug Kelley,
his chief of staff at the time, thought the group would
``surely want to close this loophole.''
But the senator, Mr. Kelley recalled, ``ran into a stone
wall,'' as the N.R.A. threatened to pull its support for him
if he did not drop the matter, which he eventually did.
``The N.R.A. slammed the door on us,'' Mr. Kelley said.
``That absolutely baffled me.''
Until then, the avenues for restoration had been narrow and
few: a direct appeal to the federal firearms agency, which
conducted detailed background investigations; a state pardon
expressly authorizing gun possession, or a presidential
pardon. Felons convicted of crimes involving guns or other
weapons, as well as those convicted of violating federal gun
laws, were expressly barred from applying to the federal
firearms agency.
By contrast, the restoration of civil rights, which is now
central to regaining gun rights, is relatively routine,
automatic in many states upon completion of a sentence. In
some states, felons must also petition for a judicial order
specifically restoring firearms rights. Other potential paths
include a pardon from the governor or state clemency board or
a ``set aside''--essentially, an annulment--of the
conviction.
Today, in at least 11 states, including Kansas, Ohio,
Minnesota and Rhode Island, restoration of firearms rights is
automatic, without any review at all, for many nonviolent
felons, usually once they finish their sentences, or after a
certain amount of time crime-free. Even violent felons may
petition to have their firearms rights restored in states
like Ohio, Minnesota and Virginia. Some states, including
Georgia and Nebraska, award scores of pardons every year that
specifically confer gun privileges.
Felons face steep odds, though, in states like California,
where the governor's office gives out only a handful of
pardons every year, if that.
``It's a long, drawn-out process,'' said Steve Lindley,
chief of the State Department of Justice's firearms bureau.
``They were convicted of a felony crime. There are penalties
for that.''
Studies on the impact of gun restrictions largely support
barring felons from possessing firearms.
One study, published in the American Journal of Public
Health in 1999, found that denying handgun purchases to
felons cut their risk of committing new gun or violent crimes
by 20 to 30 percent. A year earlier, a study in the Journal
of the American Medical Association found that handgun
purchasers with at least one prior misdemeanor--not even a
felony--were more than seven times as likely as those with no
criminal history to be charged with new offenses over a 15-
year period.
Criminologists studying recidivism have found that felons
usually have to stay out of trouble for about a decade before
their risk of committing a crime equals that of people with
no records. According to Alfred Blumstein, a professor at
Carnegie Mellon University, for violent offenders, that
period is 11 to 15 years; for drug offenders, 10 to 14 years;
and for those who have committed property crimes, 8 to 11
years. An important caveat: Professor Blumstein did not look
at what happens when felons are given guns.
The history of the federal firearms agency's own
restoration program, though, offers reason for caution. The
program came under attack in the early 1990s, when the
Violence Policy Center, a gun control group, discovered that
dozens of felons granted restorations over a five-year period
had been arrested again, including some on charges of
attempted murder and sexual assault. (The center also found
that many of those granted gun rights were felons convicted
of violent or drug-related crimes.) In the resulting uproar
and over the objections of the N.R.A., Congress killed the
program.
A Superficial Process
In 2001, three police officers in the Columbia Heights
suburb of Minneapolis were shot and wounded by a convicted
murderer whose firearms rights had been restored
automatically in 1987, 10 years after he completed a six-and-
a-half year prison sentence and then probation for killing
his estranged wife and a family friend with a shotgun. (The
State Legislature had imposed the 10-year waiting period for
violent felons after it discovered what Senator Durenberger
had feared: that felons' gun rights would be restored
immediately under the Firearm Owners Protection Act.)
What happened in the wake of the shooting is emblematic of
how the issue has played out in many states, particularly
where the gun lobby is powerful.
Two Democratic legislators sought to impose a lifetime
firearms ban on violent felons, although they concluded that
for their bills to have any chance of passing, they would
also have to set up a process that held out a hope of
eventual restoration. They were unable, however, to get their
bills through the Legislature.
The issue was taken up the following year by Republican
lawmakers, but it became wrapped up in legislation to relax
concealed-weapons laws. Initially, a moderate Republican
introduced a bill with a 5- to 10-year waiting period for
regaining gun rights, but the waiting period was scrapped
entirely in the law, written by gun-rights advocates, that
was finally enacted in 2003. That law, which does not even
mandate that prosecutors be notified of the hearings,
requires judges to grant the requests merely if the
petitioners show ``good cause.''
``The decision was, we have good judges and we trust
them,'' said Joseph Olson, who helped write the statute as
president of the advocacy group Concealed Carry Reform Now.
One man who has benefited from a Minnesota judge's gun
rights ruling is William Holisky.
Mr. Holisky, an accountant who has struggled with bipolar
disorder and alcoholism,
had gone out only a few times with Karen Roman, a nurse he
had met online, before she broke up with him.
In August 2006, Ms. Roman was getting ready to work a night
shift, putting on makeup in the bathroom of her home in
Duluth, when she heard a truck pulling up and a loud boom.
Moments later, she heard another boom and glass breaking. She
hit the floor, calling out to her teenage son in the other
room to do the same as she crawled to the phone to dial 911.
The police arrested Mr. Holisky later that night for
drunken driving. Several months later, they charged him in
the shooting as well. He pleaded guilty to second-degree
assault with a dangerous weapon.
Around the same time, he also pleaded guilty to a felony
charge of making terroristic threats against an elderly
neighbor. The woman had reported to the police that someone--
she suspected Mr. Holisky--had left her a threatening and
obscene note. She had also reported a series of escalating
incidents that included harassing telephone calls, his
entering her apartment and someone's smashing her bedroom
window. Mr. Holisky also had a misdemeanor burglary
conviction from 2003, for breaking into an ex-girlfriend's
house, as well as another misdemeanor conviction for
violating an order of protection.
In Mr. Holisky's gun rights hearing in October 2010 in Two
Harbors, a small town on the north shore of Lake Superior,
Russell Conrow, the prosecutor in Lake County, argued that
Mr. Holisky had not yet proved that he could stay clean,
given that he had just gotten out of prison. Mr. Conrow also
pointed out that there were two active orders of protection
against Mr. Holisky.
``There were people still scared of him,'' Mr. Conrow said
recently.
For his part, Mr. Holisky took documents from the plea
agreement in his assault case, in which the prosecutor in
neighboring St. Louis County agreed not to oppose the
restoration of his firearms rights.
Mr. Holisky, who is 59, did not specify in his often-
rambling petition exactly why he wanted a gun. He described
his behavior in 2006 as an ``aberration.''
The county judge, Kenneth Sandvik, was set to retire in a
few months. He knew Mr. Holisky's family from growing up in
the community. Several weeks later, he ruled that Mr. Holisky
had met the basic requirements of the law.
In an interview, Judge Sandvik said he had given
considerable weight to the St. Louis County prosecutor's
agreement not to oppose the restoration of gun rights for Mr.
Holisky. But Gary Bjorklund, an assistant St. Louis County
attorney, said in an interview that he had been focused on
extracting a guilty plea that would send Mr. Holisky to
prison and had thought no judge would take a firearms request
from Mr. Holisky seriously.
Judge Sandvik acknowledged that he had not looked into the
details of Mr. Holisky's assault case, arguing that his job
had been only to review what the prosecutor had presented to
him.
``We're not investigators,'' he said.
The ease with which Mr. Holisky regained his gun rights
does not appear to be an anomaly. Using partial data from
Minnesota's Judicial Branch, The Times identified more than
70 cases since 2004 of people convicted of ``crimes of
violence'' who have gotten their gun rights back. A closer
look at a number of them found a superficial process. The
cases included those of Mr. Krueger, who criticized the
system as insufficiently rigorous after winning back his gun
rights in a perfunctory hearing, and of another man whose
petition was approved without even a hearing, even though his
felony involved pulling a gun on a man.
The ruling in Mr. Holisky's case prompted members of his
family to write a series of frantic e-mails to Judge Sandvik
and Mr. Conrow, warning of dire consequences.
It is not entirely clear whether Mr. Holisky, who did not
respond to several requests for comment, is legally able to
buy a gun at this point, because at least one of the
outstanding orders of protection, which expires next year,
appears to trip another federal prohibition. But Mr. Holisky
has been writing letters to relatives in Texas, threatening
legal action if they do not turn over his gun collection.
So far, they have refused.
A Killer's Successful Petition
Just as in Minnesota, violent felons in Ohio are allowed to
apply for restoration of firearms rights after completing
their sentences. The statute is similarly vague, requiring
only that a judge find that the petitioner has ``led a law-
abiding life since discharge or release, and appears likely
to do so.''
Only a handful of county clerks in Ohio said they could
track these cases, producing records on several dozen
restorations. They included people who had been convicted of
first-degree murder, voluntary manslaughter, felonious
assault and sexual battery.
The case of Charles Hairston in Cuyahoga County stands out.
Mr. Hairston was 17 in January 1971, when he shot a man to
death in Winston-Salem, N.C. Mr. Hairston and a group of
neighborhood toughs had been preparing to rob a local grocery
store when the owner, Charles Minor, 55, closed up and headed
for his car.
``I am fixing to get him,'' Mr. Hairston told one of his
friends, according to witness statements to the police,
before he pulled the trigger on a 20-gauge shotgun.
Mr. Hairston spent 18 years in prison before being released
on parole in 1989. He moved to Cleveland and started working
in heating and cooling, a trade he had learned behind bars.
In 1995, he pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor charge for
allegedly grabbing and pushing his wife.
More seriously, later that year he was indicted on 60
counts of rape, felonious sexual penetration and gross sexual
imposition; prosecutors charged that he had forced sex upon
his stepdaughter, starting when she was 12. He was acquitted
of the most serious charges and convicted only of corruption
of a minor for one encounter at a motel for which prosecutors
were able to provide corroborating evidence beyond the girl's
detailed testimony.
Mr. Hairston, who denies the charges and is still fighting
the conviction, filed his first gun rights restoration
application in 2006 in Cuyahoga County but was summarily
denied.
When he filed a new petition two years later, a judge
thought he was ineligible and denied him again, though she
wrote in her decision that she did not believe Mr. Hairston
was likely to break the law again. But an appeals court ruled
that the judge had misread the statute, and sent the case
back for another hearing late last year.
The county prosecutor's office had vigorously opposed the
restoration from the beginning. But Mr. Hairston, who took in
several friends as character witnesses, told the judge he had
grown up in prison.
``Nearly 40 years ago, you know, I was a dumb kid,'' Mr.
Hairston said at his first hearing. He added, ``I am in a
situation now where if, God forbid, if someone was to come
into my home and attack me, my wife, there isn't a lot I
could say about it, there isn't a lot I could do.''
In the end, the judge, Hollie L. Gallagher, granted his
petition without comment.
Soon after the judge's ruling, Mr. Hairston obtained a
concealed weapons permit from a neighboring county and bought
a 9-millimeter semiautomatic handgun.
Returning to Crime
Erik Zettergren originally lost his gun rights in 1987
because of a felony conviction for dealing marijuana. A
decade later, the police went to his house after being called
by his ex-wife and discovered a cache of guns. He was
convicted of another felony, unlawful possession of a
firearm.
He relinquished his weapons to friends but eventually got
them back, sometimes hiding them in an old car in his
backyard, according to friends. Sometime after that, though,
he became worried that the police might come after him again
and turned over the guns--two long guns and a Glock pistol--
to a friend, Tom Williams.
``I kept them under my bed,'' Mr. Williams said.
In December 2004, Mr. Zettergren successfully petitioned in
Kittitas County--a three-hour drive from his home--to have
his gun rights restored. (Like Minnesota's, Washington's law
allows petitioners to apply anywhere.) Court records show he
did not even have a hearing. Instead, his lawyer, Paul T.
Ferris, who specializes in these cases, took care of the
matter.
Right away, Mr. Zettergren retrieved his guns from Mr.
Williams and soon obtained a concealed pistol license. He
made something of a sport of showing off his Glock to
friends. ``He was so proud of that thing,'' said Larry
Persons, a friend. ``He was flashing it in front of
everybody.''
Not long after, he would use it in the killing.
Washington's gun rights restoration statute dates to a 1995
statewide initiative, the Hard Times for Armed Crimes Act,
that toughened penalties for crimes involving firearms. The
initiative was spearheaded, in part, by pro-gun activists,
including leaders of the Second Amendment Foundation, an
advocacy group, and the N.R.A.
Although it drew little notice at the time, the legislation
also included an expansion of what had been very limited
eligibility for restoration of firearms rights.
``There were a lot of people who we felt should be able to
get their gun rights restored who could not,'' said Alan M.
Gottlieb, founder of the Second Amendment Foundation, who was
active in the effort.
Under the legislation, ``Class A'' felons--who have
committed the most serious crimes, like murder and
manslaughter--are ineligible, as are sex offenders.
Otherwise, judges are required to grant the petitions as long
as, essentially, felons have not been convicted of any new
crimes in the five years after completing their sentences.
Judges have no discretion to deny the requests based upon
character, mental health or any other factors. Mr. Gottlieb
said they explicitly wrote the statute this way.
``We were having problems with judges that weren't going to
restore rights no matter what,'' he said.
The statute's mix of strictness and leniency makes
Washington a useful testing ground.
The Times's analysis found that among the more than 400
people who committed crimes after winning back their gun
rights under the new law, more than 70 committed Class A or
B felonies. Over all, more than 80 were convicted of some
sort of assault and more than 100 of drug offenses.
There were cases like that of Mitchell W. Reed,
disqualified from possessing firearms after a 1984 felony
cocaine conviction. He also has seven misdemeanor convictions
on his record from the 1980s, including for assault. In 2003,
he successfully petitioned for
his gun rights in Snohomish County Superior Court.
His wife, Debi Reed, went with him to the hearing and said
in an interview that she had been shocked at how easily his
rights were restored. He immediately bought a 9-millimeter
semiautomatic handgun.
The following year, she said, he beat her up for the first
time. In 2008 he became more angry and violent, she said, in
one instance putting a gun in her hand during an argument,
pointing it at his head and saying he was going to frame her
for murder. During another fight that year, he struck her
with a gun, giving her a black eye, and held a loaded gun to
her head.
Mr. Reed was ultimately arrested in 2009 and charged with
harassing and threatening to kill his wife's ex-husband.
While those charges were pending, he was arrested on second-
degree assault charges after he beat up and tried to strangle
his wife. The charging documents also mentioned the 2008 gun
episode. He eventually pleaded guilty to third-degree assault
and intimidating a witness, as well as fourth-degree assault
and harassment.
Jason C. Keller, disqualified because of a 1997 burglary
conviction, had his rights restored after a brief hearing in
2006. He waited a few years before buying a Hi-Point .40-
caliber semiautomatic pistol, according to his girlfriend at
the time, Shawna Braylock. But she did not trust him with the
gun because of his temper, making him keep it at his parents'
house.
In 2010, Mr. Keller left a Fourth of July party in the late
evening, picked up his gun and drove to the house of a woman
he knew. He fired several shots as she stood out front with
her 9-year-old son; her 6-year-old daughter was sleeping
inside. Mr. Keller pleaded guilty to drive-by shooting, a
felony.
In Mr. Zettergren's case, his friends said they were
shocked that a judge had restored his gun rights, because
they knew he was receiving disability payments, in part
because of mental health problems.
``Most of the people around here that knew him, knew that
he could be dangerous,'' said Darrell Reinhardt, one of Mr.
Zettergren's friends.
Mr. Zettergren's mental health issues, in fact, have been
at the heart of his efforts to appeal his convictions for
second-degree murder, second-degree assault and unlawful
imprisonment. He had been in counseling since 2000, and
several mental health experts had found he had post-traumatic
stress disorder and major depression, saying he had a ``very
high degree of psychological disturbance'' and suffered
frequent ``flashbacks and disturbing images,'' according to a
declaration from a forensic psychologist in one of Mr.
Zettergren's appeal briefs. The post-traumatic stress,
according to the psychologist, resulted from scenes he had
witnessed years before, including his mother's death by
electrocution and the shooting death of a friend.
None of this was reviewed by the judge who heard Mr.
Zettergren's gun rights petition.
Donna Bly, the mother of Jason Robinson, Mr. Zettergren's
shooting victim, considered suing the county for negligence
over the decision but could not find a lawyer to take the
case. She also tried bringing the issue up with a state
legislator but got nowhere.
``This man did not deserve to have his gun rights back,''
she said.