Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that following morning business tomorrow, Thursday, March 25, all postcloture time on the motion to proceed to Calendar No. 11, H.R. 1799, the PPP Extension Act, be considered expired and the motion…
Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that following morning business tomorrow, Thursday, March 25, all postcloture time on the motion to proceed to Calendar No. 11, H.R. 1799, the PPP Extension Act, be considered expired and the motion to proceed be agreed to; that the only amendments in order be the following: Kennedy, No. 1401; Rubio, No. 1405; further, that it be in order for Senator Paul or his designee to raise a Budget Act point of order; finally, that at 11 a.m. tomorrow, the Senate vote in relation to the amendments in the order listed and on the motion to waive, if made; that if the motion to waive is agreed to, the bill be considered read a third time and the Senate vote on passage of the bill as amended, if amended, with 60 affirmative votes required for passage, all with no intervening action or debate.
Mr. President, I thank my friend Senator Bennet for those remarks, for honoring the memories of those we have lost and commanding us to action.
I remember getting a phone call from Michael Bennet that Friday morning as Senator Blumenthal and I were sitting at a firehouse in Sandy Hook, CT,
learning what had happened just around the corner at a schoolhouse.
I remember getting advice from Michael Bennet about what you do as an elected official in the midst of this tragedy because he had already been through it once before. Colorado had already been through it more than once before.
I think about this macabre club that an increasing number of Members of the Senate and House belong to in which we have this memory bank of what to do when a mass shooting happens in your district or your State--a set of capacities that no Member of the House or Senate, no Governor ever had to think about or ever consider possessing decades ago. Now, we call each other when these things happen to impart advice as to how to be helpful to communities that are grieving.
I am thankful to have friends like Senator Bennet, who can be with others at moments like this, but I hate the fact that he knows all too well what communities go through when something happens like happened earlier this week in Boulder.
We thought about what to do to try to move this country and our colleagues to action after another spate of mass shootings. This is a really old chart that I brought down to the floor for years. These numbers are out of date, unfortunately, because, well, in 2019, we were losing 100 people a day from gun violence. That is not the number from 2020 or 2021. We have seen a dramatic increase in gun violence.
While in 2020 we didn't see the mass shootings that we have been accustomed to in years prior, we are now seeing them once again pop up on our TV screens in 2021. But the lack of mass shootings masked the reality, which was a dramatic increase in the number of people who were felled by guns over the course of last year. We thought about what we could do to try to make more real for our colleagues the scope of this epidemic, and we thought of maybe something simple, you know, to make people understand that these aren't really numbers. The numbers are just a way to explain in aggregate who these people are, because each one of them is an individual. Each one of them led a life. Each one of them had people who loved them. Each one of them loved people. So many of them, you can just see by these snapshots, were young. They had full lives ahead of them, businesses to start, and families to begin. None of that happened for them because they were shot, often at the beginning or the peak of their early life.
So tonight I am hopeful that I will be joined by a number of my colleagues to do something simple, just to read into the Record, the permanent Congressional Record, the names of those who have died just in 2021. Every single day, there are over 100 people dying right now. I don't think America has ever seen this rate of gun violence, with the exception of wartime, in our history.
While we won't have time to tell you the story of all these people, as Michael did about those whom we lost in Boulder, at least we can make sure that forever their name and a link to their story is in the Congressional Record.
Senator Bennet already talked about Lynn Murray and Suzanne Fountain, Teri Leiker, Kevin Mahoney, Tralona Bartkowiak, Rikki Olds, Neven Stanisic, Denny Stong, Jody Waters, and Eric Talley. Those are the victims from Colorado. I am sorry if I didn't get the pronunciations perfectly. But we also lost, over the course of the first 3 months of this year Patrice Lynette Jones in Indiana; Kelvin Darnell from Illinois; Kevon Dickerson from Kentucky; Leah Brooke Hines from Ohio; Linda McMurry in Tennessee; Michael Uttley in Missouri; Jarrea Gardner in Pennsylvania; Robert Randall Turner III from Maryland; Maddox Jones in Georgia; Joseph Jackson in Florida.
On Monday, the same day as the shooting, in Boulder, Alessia Mesquita, 28 years old, was shot and killed in New Haven, CT, with her 1-year-old daughter sitting in the back seat of her car. She and her boyfriend were arguing in the car when he shot her to death. According to her mother, Alessia had been trying to leave her boyfriend.
Alessia is described as a devoted mother who loved her children with all of her heart. Many of her friends really relied on her for advice and guidance. They said she would give the shirt off her back to help a friend.
Her mom said:
My heart has been shattered, and I don't think I'm ever
going to be right again.
She was the second of eight children. She had two children of her own, and her mother will now raise her two grandchildren.
Nobody heard about Alessia Mesquita being shot with her daughter in the back seat in New Haven, CT, on Monday. Her life isn't less valuable than any of those who were killed in mass shootings. But this country's attention to the pandemic of gun violence, the epidemic of gun violence, seems to surface only when there is a mass shooting.
Benjamin Bagley was shot last week in Bridgeport, CT. He was 22 years old. He was remembered by friends and family as somebody who always kept a smile on the faces of people who loved him. He was a doting father. He was a loving son and brother and always made people smile.
His friends wrote:
He was taken from us far before his light was fully able to
shine its brightest.
He was one of six siblings, two brothers and four sisters. He had two children and one on the way. He was born and raised in Bridgeport. He was involved in his church.
His mom Michelle Brown said:
I had to kiss my son lying in a hospital bed dead. I don't
wish this on nobody, not even my worst enemy.
This wasn't the first time Benjamin had been shot. He had been previously wounded in a shooting in 2016, but he had recovered.
Kevin Jang was 26 years old. About a month and a half ago, in early February, he was killed by gun violence. He had moved to New Haven just 2 years ago to pursue a master's degree at the Yale School of the Environment. He was a west coast native. He had gotten engaged 1 week before his death. He had earned a degree. He was an Army veteran. He was a present Army National Guard member.
He was shot outside his fiance's apartment. His fiance said:
Kevin was . . . a gift from God. He was a true and
righteous man after God's own heart. Life is so precious and
short. My only hope is that he is with his Heavenly Father
now in perfect peace.
``An extraordinary young man,'' said Yale University's president.
I mean, I have a stack of names, 20, 25 per page. We don't have enough time tonight to read into the Record the number of victims of gun violence in 2021 alone--alone. There is Adam Todd Saeed from South Carolina; Andrew Wesley from Ohio; Antonio Rowban Thompson from South Carolina; Artrell Conner, Louisiana; Beau Michael Wasmer, West Virginia; Brittany Wagoner-Moore in Ohio; Byron ``B'' Donnell Ross in Texas; Carolyn Ann Stephenson, North Carolina; Christian Parra, New Jersey; Christopher Bess, Illinois; David Caballero, California; David Prince, Illinois; Dean Wagstaff, Washington; Devin Dawkins, Missouri; Dolores Reyes, California; Eric Thompson, Tennessee; Glorida Dean Eddington Lewis, Ohio; Harold Edward Dennison, West Virginia; Javontae Hendricks, Illinois; Jeffrey Gillespie, Mississippi; Justin Bartley Williams, Texas; Keldrick Love, Louisiana; Kiron Golden, Alabama; Lesean Long, Illinois; Malcolm Fitts, Illinois; Marcel Tramon Pimpton, Texas; Mario Vines, Oklahoma; Melissa Marie Nease, Florida; Nestor Gregorio, Texas; Pedro Arturo Delgado Tagle, Texas; Rene Hernandez, Texas; Robert ``Trey'' Scott III, Indiana; Ryan Abraham Whiteis-Saks, Minnesota; Satnam Singh, Utah; Shamso Gedi-Abdi, Minnesota; Teresa Ratliff, Ohio; Thomas ``TJ'' Carr, Ohio; Timothy Alfred Nelson, Texas; Timothy Dugar Ohio; Tony Nichols, Missouri; Tre'Veon D. Buckner; Victor Zuniga; Xavier Crosby; Adam David-Lawrence Arrambide; Bobby King; Brandon Chunko; Carol Tinsley; Cecilia Apolo; Christian Joseph Jones; Christopher Benton McLeod; Cory McHaffie; Curtis Lee Upshaw; DeAndre Carter; Dominicko Howell; Donnell Hoskin; Grayson Babbs; Jamie Bull. It is two pages. I have 20 more here. My colleagues will hopefully join me on the floor tonight to read some of these names into the Record.
This is as astonishing as it is heartbreaking. This country allows for this to happen, allows these individuals to effectively be nameless and to be anonymous. Tonight we are reading into the Record only the names of individuals
who died in this year, and the year isn't even 90 days old. How is it that we pay attention during the mass shootings but just sleep through the days in which all of these people are stolen from us through an epidemic that is preventable?
This doesn't happen anywhere else in the high-income world. No other nation permits this level of gun violence. Don't tell me it is the price of admission to America. Don't tell me it is not preventable. Don't tell me it is inevitable. It only happens here. It only happens here, and it is really hard to comprehend the impact this has on people.
I was in an elementary school in Baltimore, MD, about 2 years ago. I had gone there to see an afterschool program that I had heard was very successful. The school had started about an hour late that day because of a weather delay, and so when I was inside the school, at about 10 o'clock, kids were still just arriving.
I went upstairs to join the young lady who ran this program, and we were about a half an hour into our conversation when buzzers started going off, and the lights flickered, and the intercom system lit up with somebody from the central office repeating over and over again: Code green, code green, code green.
I didn't know what a code green was. The person I was meeting with, who was just running this afterschool program, didn't know what code green was.
Luckily, the front office called up and told us that ``code green'' means there has been an active shooting somewhere in and around the school and that everybody needs to turn the lights off, lock the doors, and shut the blinds. So that is what we did.
It was 10:30 in the morning. After about 20 minutes, code green ended, lights turned back on, and we continued our discussion. I was shaken.
This is a school I had never set foot in. I had only been there about 20 minutes, and there was an active shooting within a handful of blocks. So I wanted to know what happened. I stayed in touch with personnel at the school. I read the Baltimore papers over the course of the next few days to find out what had happened, and here is what I found out. A young man by the name of Corey Dodd, who lived just down the street from the school, had told his wife--I believe her name is Marissa, if I remember correctly--that he would drop their twins off at Matthew Henson Elementary School that morning. They had two other kids. She was busy with them. He said: I will drop the kids off this morning.
So he drove the kids to Matthew Henson Elementary School, the twin girls, and brought them into the building. I could have been in that lobby with him that morning as I was coming in and he was leaving. He got into his car. He drove a few blocks home, and in between his car and the door, he was shot dead--10 o'clock in the morning.
His little girl, the youngest, always waited for him at the door when he was arriving. Well, he never showed up to that door because he died that day. And his two little twin girls in that school at the same time that I was there, who might have been giggling as they took a break from instruction and the lights went off, and they got to chat with their friends, didn't know that they were never going to see their father again.
Think about it, how the lives of those children change when their dad vanishes from the Earth just like that. Think about how the lives of all the children in that school change when they have to contemplate the fact that their dads might not be home when they arrive next week or the week after, if it could happen to Mr. Dodd. Think about how the entire neighborhood goes through trauma after trauma when that happens so routinely in a place like Baltimore.
You can't understand the scope of this epidemic by just reading off these names. Adam Todd Saeed died. Jason Wilson died. Jath Burns died. Johnjairo Brito died. Johnnie Clark died. Jonathan Joseph died. Jose Medero died. Joseph Carney died. Justin Locklear died. Justin Marshall died of gun violence. So did Kristen Slack and Latarous Harris and Lieutenant Justin Bedwell.
They all died of gunshot wounds just in 2021, but they simply represent the surface. You scratch just a bit, and you will find their kids and their moms and their dads and their neighbors who are going through trauma right now because of their deaths.
Research tells us that often there are 20 people who experience definable trauma when someone close to them dies. And so even the names that we read into the record tonight don't accurately represent the scope of this trauma. Those kids' lives will never ever be the same in Sandtown, the neighborhood of Baltimore in which this elementary school sits, neither will be the lives of those kids who go to that school.
And maybe what was so inexplicable to me was that I had to work really hard to find out anything about that young man. It was barely a story the next day that he had died bringing his daughters to school and then returning home. Had there been six more people shot, maybe it would have made the papers. Maybe America would have paid attention.
But think of it this way: What if that same story played out not in Baltimore, MD, with an African-American father and African-American girls, what if that story played out in Westport, CT, with a White father and two twin, blond-haired, White girls? Do we care less because Corey was African American? You better believe it. You better believe that headline news would have been running stories about an affluent, White, suburban father dropping his kids off at an affluent, White, suburban school and being shot before he entered his suburban home.
We don't care about individual loss of life like we care about the victims of mass shootings. That is a tragedy. We also don't care about the loss of Black life. We don't care about the people of color who die in the same way that we care when White people die in this country. That is just the truth.
So, tonight, my colleagues and I are going to come to the floor--and I hope some will join me. I thank Senator Blumenthal for being here to start us off--to read into the Record the names of individuals who have been lost to gun violence in 2021 as a way to make sure we recognize who they were and the lives that they led, but also as a last-gasp effort to try to convince our colleagues to do something.
Tonight isn't really going to be the night to go deep into policy. Senator Bennet talked about what we know we need to do. We can have that debate at another time. Tonight is a night to just recognize the scope of this epidemic, how many people are being lost, how many lives are being impacted in mass shootings and in individual acts of violence, in homicides and suicides and domestic violence incidences. And maybe, maybe by pounding into people's brains the human toll of this tragedy in mass shootings and in other forms, we can inch this body a little bit closer to doing the right thing.
I yield the floor.
Mr. President, I thank my friend Senator Cortez Masto for that powerful testimony, for sharing some of these stories talking about the impact on families in Las Vegas and throughout her State, and to talk about what this means from a parent's perspective, to think that her own family had to wonder whether their loved one was going to come back from that shooting that dominated the news, to think about how many lives were changed.
Senator Blumenthal made a really important observation earlier and that was that the numbers we are using here, 39,000 people dying a year, and the names that we are reading into the Record, these are the names of the individuals who have died, but what we know is there are hundreds of thousands of others who have survived gunshot wounds. The trauma is different, but it is still serious and acute.
When a loved one is shot, obviously, that comes with a moral disruption to the family that is hard to calculate. Often that injury has lifelong consequences. The individual is bound to a wheelchair, losing the use of legs and arms. These are serious consequences that affect the rest of your life.
While today we are reading into the Record the names of those who have died, this stack represents, I think, just a fraction of those who have died in 2021. It could be four times as high if we had talked about those who have been injured in episodes of gun violence.
Other colleagues are going to join us here tonight on the floor. While they do, let me just read into the Record a handful of additional names: Carlesa Taylor; Cleveland Sanders; Cortney Smith, Missouri; Corporal Martinus Mitchum from Louisiana; Daniel Bonham from Georgia; Darrell Merriwether from Iowa; Devon Lon Remmel from Minnesota; Diontaye Petty from Kentucky; Gregory Marchand from Missouri; Gwendolyn McMillan from Georgia; Irvinn Villalba from New Mexico; Jakob Lee Haines from Pennsylvania; Jonatan Jose Martinez, Pennsylvania; Julian Castro, Illinois; Julie Lee Karvelis, Mississippi; Keith Hawkins, Arkansas; Lee Patrick David, West Virginia; Manyari Smith, Illinois; Mario Turner, Illinois; Marquise Jones, Louisiana; Nazeer Defares, California; Nicolette Sheridan Law, Pennsylvania; Officer Dominic Jared Winum, Virginia; Peter Vanvallis, Montana; Qualil Terrion Young, Texas; Raymond William Nieman, Kansas; Reginald Copning, Louisiana; Reginald James, California; Robert Bigger, Illinois.
I am sure some cynical viewer tonight may listen to a name they recognize on this list and say: Oh, well, wait a second. I know that guy. He had a criminal record. That individual was involved with some bad people.
There is never a justification for a gun homicide. No matter whether the individuals on these lists were perfect angels or individuals who had made mistakes, none of them deserved to die in an episode of vigilante or random justice. So to answer a hypothetical question, I haven't vetted the names that I am reading because not a single person on this list deserved to go in the way that they did.
I remember talking to a woman who has become a friend in Hartford, CT. She lost her son just about a month before Sandy Hook. She remembers when Sandy Hook happened that she latched onto the number of children who were killed. Twenty kids were killed that day in Sandy Hook. I asked Senator Bennet were there survivors from the shooting in the supermarket in Boulder, and he said he had to check, and I will check as well, but he wasn't sure that there were individuals who were seriously injured. If that is the case, there are parallels to Sandy Hook.
The weapons that are being used in these crimes are so lethal, so powerful that, increasingly, it is hard to survive wounds when a bullet enters your body at the speed that bullets are traveling when they come from an AR-15 or AR-15-style weapon as was used in Sandy Hook.
In Sandy Hook, 20 kids were shot. All 20 of them died. The number 20 wa meaningful to my friend because her son was 20 years old when he was killed on October 20 of 2012, the year of Sandy Hook. He was killed by a 20-year-old, and he was the 20th victim of gun violence that year in Hartford, CT.
She told this story about what her life was like after her son was killed, after Shane was killed. She said that first she just didn't want to leave the house ever. She didn't want to see anybody. She would always walk down the street to the corner bodega to pick up groceries. I think it was only a block or so away. She came to driving there so there was no chance that she would have to meet people she knew along the way. Her life became fundamentally different. Her life ended, as she described it, in so many ways when her only son disappeared from the Earth.
She talked about this strange habit that came to dominate some of her evenings. She would get up in the middle of the night and she would get in her car and she would drive to the site where Shane was shot. Shane was shot about two blocks from my house where I live in Hartford, CT. I drive by the site of Shane's shooting almost every day when I am going back to our home. She would drive to that site. She would stop her car, and she would turn on her high beams as if she were waiting for Shane to show up, as if she were waiting for him to come back. She knew he never was, but this became a habit.
It just speaks to this immense, incalculable trauma that families go through when they lose a loved one, a trauma that you can't truly understand.
In Sandy Hook, one mother adopted another curious but understandable habit in the years after Sandy Hook. She would, during an afternoon on a Saturday or a Sunday, convince herself that her son who had been killed in Sandy Hook was at a friend's house. She would sort of create this fantasy, this fiction in her mind. She would find it a little bit easier to go about cleaning up the house or doing laundry or playing with her other children if, in her mind, she could pretend just for a half hour or an hour that her son was safe at a friend's house. She was successful in contorting her mind to give her that space for that short period of time. It is what she needed to do.
It is something that you never ever want to have to contemplate, creating these fictions in your minds to allow you to survive just for an hour at a time, shining bright lights on an empty space near downtown Hartford, thinking maybe that your son will show up. These are contortions of action and thinking that nobody should have to deal with.
Roshawn Tate from California; Shana Lynn Williams from North Carolina; Stanley Taylor from Missouri; Ty'Reece Thomas from Mississippi; Tyrone Brown from Ohio; Tyrone Gregory from Ohio; Anthony Collins from Georgia; Anthony Milian from Indiana; Antoine Jamil Johnson from Missouri; Brad Rumfield from Texas; Brittany Dawn Scruggs from Texas; Bryan Fundora, Kentucky; Carlesa Taylor, Michigan; Curtis Smith, Oregon; Dae'Vion Pullum, Indiana; Detraio Deshawn Whorton, Alabama; Enelrae Collier Rubenstahl, North Carolina; James Delgiorno, Florida; Jessica Morehouse, Missouri; Jordan Reen, New York; Joseph Marwan Brown, Michigan; Jovanne Hollman, California; Kevin Neal, Georgia; Kimberly Marcum, Ohio; Lentavius Cortez Hall, Louisiana; Leonne Kellam, Delaware; Lovelle Laramore, New Jersey; Luis Rafael Lopez, Arizona; Michael Vines, Michigan.
I apologize if I am mispronouncing some of these names. I am seeing many of them for the first time. But it is important for us to read these names into the Record so that at least they live in that space because the numbers aren't moving our colleagues to action.
So far this year, just 2021, there have been 9,649 gun-related deaths. These include homicides and murders, accidental shootings, and suicides. Some people take issue with the fact that when we talk about the gun violence epidemic, that we are including suicides in these numbers. There have been thousands of suicides in the United States this year, but it is important that we talk about these deaths together.
Again, this evening is not going to be a time to go deep into the question of policy change, but when you do start to explore interventions and causes, you will find that many of the same causes for homicides cause suicides as well.
For instance, there is a very clear correlation between poverty and gun homicide. There is a very clear correlation between poverty and your risk of suicide. There is a clear correlation between the ease of access to a firearm and homicide as there is to suicide. In States that have universal background checks, there are generally lower rates of homicide and there are generally lower rates of suicide as well. We talk about suicides together.
People are paying attention today to this epidemic because of what has happened in Atlanta and what has happened in Colorado. I understand why we pay more attention to mass shootings. There is something unique and frightening about large-scale, indiscriminate slaughter.
But mass shootings are just not those incidences where 10 people die; there are mass shootings where 3 or 4 people are shot. That is still a significant crime. So far, this year, there have been 104 of those. There have been 104 mass shootings this year. You didn't know that, right? You thought there was just Atlanta and Boulder. No, not true. There have been 104 mass shootings.
I believe most times mass shootings are defined as when four or more people are shot at the same time, not necessarily killed but shot. There have been 104 mass shootings this year and 191 deaths and injuries of children aged 11 and younger. Think about that. In this year alone, almost 200 kids, aged 11 and younger, have been killed and 128 deaths and injuries of teenagers, aged 12 to 17.
In May 2020--think about this--there were 61 mass shootings. Now, in May 2020, we were emotionally focused on the pandemic, and we were focused on trying to get people well. The country was not talking about gun violence in the way it normally would if there were 61 mass shooting in 1 month. That is the highest monthly total ever tallied by the Gun Violence Archive, which is a nonprofit research group where a lot of our data and names come from. They began tracking data in 2013. Since they have been tracking the data, May 2020 was the highest number of mass shootings, but you didn't hear about it because most of those mass shootings were of 4 or 5 or 6 people, not of 20 or 30 or 40, and, honestly, many of those mass shootings were likely people of color, which don't get as much attention either.
Mushab Mohamud Ali, Minnesota; Rasaan Mack, Illinois; RoCoby Rodgers, Missouri; Roxann Martinez, Colorado; Samuel Lee Pollard, Mississippi; Steve Alphonso, North Carolina; Terrance Armour, Michigan; Timothy Swope, Illinois; Windy Lee Higgins, Florida; Xzavior Frost, Oklahoma; Anne-Marie Winters Wilson, Georgia; Audrey Isham, Indiana; Cameron Watkins, Virginia.
I am not even close to the 9,649 gun-related deaths in 2021 alone.
I am glad to be joined on the floor by my colleague Senator Klobuchar, to whom I will yield in a moment. I want to thank her for being a real steadfast partner in these efforts and, in particular, on focusing, as she has, on the crime of domestic violence.
Senator Klobuchar, earlier this evening, I was describing a murder in New Haven, CT, that happened on the same day as Colorado's, in which a young woman was sitting in a car with her boyfriend and with her 1- year-old in the backseat. They were in an argument, and she was trying to leave him, and she shot him while in the car with the child in the backseat. I was talking about how little attention that got in Connecticut, never mind in the country, in how we pay attention to these mass shootings--and for good reason--and how every one of these individuals has a story attached to them. She was someone her friends relied on for counsel and for moral support, and it is how that death initiates so many other traumas.
I was honored to be able to read her name into the Record tonight. She is one of many who will now find their names in the Congressional Record so that, at the very least, the Record of our proceedings will remember her life and think about what could have been had we not been so cavalier with her life and her safety through our inaction.
I yield the floor.
Mr. President, Marcia Reitman Currie from New York; Mitchell Wright, Jr., from Missouri; Nicholas Tarpley from Pennsylvania; Reuben Lewis III from California; Rhyce Wingate-Bey, Maryland; Robert Crochiere, Massachusetts; Samuel Lamont Smith- Williams, Tennessee; Spencer Wilcox, Oregon; Anthony Castillo, New York--we didn't come close to finishing this list tonight. We didn't make a dent in the list of those names of the people who have died from gun violence in 2021 alone, a year in which almost 10,000 people have died in less than 3 months in suicides and homicides and accidental shootings.
It is a choice. None of this is inevitable. Almost all of it is preventable. It only happens here in the United States of America because other countries make different choices.
Congress goes the next 2 weeks on a district work period. We wanted to come to the floor tonight to make clear that we are not going to forget those who have died through the inaction of this body, their national leaders; that we are going to renew our commitment to be better and to change and to begin that process in the wake of the shootings in Boulder and Atlanta by making sure that everybody hears the names of those who have died.
I yield to Senator Blumenthal to wrap up for the evening.
Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the order for the quorum call be rescinded.