Mr. President, this day is one of the profound moments for both Senator Murphy and myself, because we lived through that day--a searing, grief-stricken day that neither of us will ever forget, 9 years ago. And at this moment on that day, I…
Mr. President, this day is one of the profound moments for both Senator Murphy and myself, because we lived through that day--a searing, grief-stricken day that neither of us will ever forget, 9 years ago. And at this moment on that day, I stood before a church full of parents and members of that Newtown community. And what I said then was, ``The world is watching. The world is watching us and what we will do.''
Today, we remember not only what we lost but also what we still need to do as, 9 years ago, those 20 beautiful children and 6 great educators lost their lives. Today, as we did at St. Rose of Lima Church that evening, we remember the lives they lived. Their names will be forever engraved in our hearts. We remember them for bringing bursts of light and laughter and love into our lives, mostly into the lives of their families.
We also remember the heroism, the real heroism, of those educators on that day--of the six who bravely sought to shield their children. Literally, with their own bodies, they sought to protect their children--running unhesitatingly toward that danger, barricading classrooms, drawing on all their reserves of calm and professionalism to protect the children in their care. They were heroes, and so were emergency responders, State police, and all who came to the firehouse that day. I remember the broken faces--the heartbroken faces--of men who went into the school building to secure the crime scene and saw the bodies of children who could have been their own. They were tough State policemen who had seen it all. Those emergency responders, the ministers, the priests, the people of faith who tended to the parents, and, yes, indeed, the parents themselves--heroes.
My colleague Senator Murphy has talked about Jesse's dad, Neil Heslin. Jesse's mom, Scarlett Lewis, became a hero as a champion of social and emotional learning to try to prevent the conflict and the emotional travail that could lead someone like Adam Lanza to do what he did.
I will never forget, at one of those wakes and funerals that we attended in the days afterward--they seemed interminable in the cold and the deadening light of winter--the one mom whom I approached and said: ``When the time is right, when you are ready, I think we should do something about gun violence.'' She looked at me and said: ``I am ready now.''
The ferocity, the bravery, the strength, and fortitude of those parents in the days and months afterward, coming here, as we sought to do something about gun violence, and then they sat in the Gallery when, by a handful of votes, we failed, and the cry of shame--shame--that one of those parents shouted to us.
They worked bravely, and they have continued that work with the kind of unflinching courage that it takes every time they tell their stories and every time one of the surviving families talks about their children in the quest to save others. That is what it is all about. That is why those brave parents--heroes--of this story have continued.
For them, that December morning began like every other. They took their children to school, kissed them goodbye, maybe admonished them to be good that day. It was a normal day until it wasn't. Then, time stopped for them and for all of us. Time stopped, and the world changed forever--irreparably. Irreparably, it changed forever for them and for all of us. Nine years later, they live with that grief so far more deeply than any of us that it almost feels like an incursion on their privacy to talk about that day. The scars of that day are for them but also for the brothers and sisters. For everyone who suffered a loss, that trauma and grief continue, and they relive it on this day.
There also are heroes in that community of Newtown and Sandy Hook--a beautiful, quintessential New England town, with such great spirit. They came together that evening at the St. Rose of Lima Church and in the days and weeks and years afterward with unyielding conviction and courage.
Yet we know that they are so far from alone because, in that time-- incredibly, in the time--of the 9 years since that day, 900,000 more people have perished; 900,000 more people have died from gun violence and so many of them children. One-third of American children live in a home with a gun, and 3 million children are exposed to gun violence every year.
Firearms are the leading cause of death among American children and teenagers--the leading cause of death for children younger than the age of 13. So often, they occur at home--outside the front door, in the neighborhood. Black children and teens are 14 times more likely than White children and teens to die by gun homicide. There is a searing inequity and injustice here that radiates outside the boundaries of Sandy Hook and Newtown. It affects every community. None is immune. None is above gun violence.
Because 60 percent of all deaths by gun violence are suicide, there are solutions here, like safe storage and emergency risk protection orders, and red flag statutes that simply keep guns safely stored, like Ethan's Law, or that separate guns from people who say they are going to kill themselves or others or who give evidence that that is what they are going to do.
The good news is we are seeing a new generation of leaders. We are seeing a political movement, not just a moment but a political movement, and a group of organizations that is mobilizing the vast majority of the American people who know we need to put an end to gun violence: Sandy Hook Promise, Newtown Action Alliance, Connecticut Against Gun Violence, Moms Demand Action, Students Demand Action, Giffords, Brady, March for Our Lives--in the wake of Parkland, March for Our Lives. This is a new generation brought together by tragedy, united regardless of their party. Regardless of their other politics, they are together in demanding action.
With every one of these mass tragedies--Parkland, Las Vegas, Charleston, El Paso, Orlando, Pittsburgh, Atlanta, Boulder, Indianapolis, and now Oxford, MI--the scourge of gun violence has united these groups in a way that has never happened before, with the hope that Americans will express themselves not only in their neighborhoods and at community meetings but also at the ballot box in order to hold us accountable--truly responsible--for the complicity of Congress. Yes, it is complicity in that death and murder that occur literally every day. More than 100 lives are lost every day.
There are real commonsense solutions here. I don't need to describe them in detail--that will be for another day: expanding background checks and closing loopholes in that background check system, keeping weapons of war and ghost guns off our streets, funding public health research and community violence intervention programs, protecting domestic violence survivors, setting standards for safe and secure storage, implementing those red flag statutes, and holding the gun industry and its nefarious partners accountable. We know what to do. We know what is necessary to help stop gun violence. There is no mystery here, and this movement--a political movement and social movement--can achieve it.
But I want to talk not only about the grief suffered by families who have lost loved ones but about the impact on the living who may not even know about Sandy Hook. There are children at schools right now, children who routinely do active shooter drills, diving under their desks or barricading their doors in anticipation of a mass murder in the place that should be the safest to them.
What will this generation think of school? What will this generation think of safety?
Today, in some schools, there was no school because of the copycat threats phoned in to those schools.
What kind of nation has to shut down schools because of the threat of mass murder? Not our Nation, I would hope; not our Nation, if we use our power to make our Nation safer; not our Nation, if we have the same kind of courage and guts and grit that those families of Sandy Hook have. We promised to honor them with action.
We should keep in mind the grace and bravery of people like Kristin and Mike Song, who lost their son, a teenager, at a friend's house, to a shooting that was the result of an unsecured weapon--unsecured because the parents of his friend failed to put it under lock and key. They made it accessible. Kids die like that every day, every week. As our hearts break, we should remember the bravery of Kristin and Michael Song, who crusaded for Ethan's Law, named after their son.
They were here just last week at a vigil--literally, within a stone's throw of the Capitol--reciting their story, seeking to inspire us to act and take that step toward safe storage but taking nobody's gun away. These measures take no one's gun away. They just make it safe to own a gun and to save lives.
We have children. I have four children. My colleagues on the floor have children and families. We remember those days when our kids were 6 years old. We remember the joy and life they brought to our lives.
There is a saying that no parent should outlive a child. Until we know someone who loses a child, but most especially at that age, the power of that saying may have less meaning.
In 10 years, we should have done a lot more, if we mark 10 years without doing more. In 10 years, next year at this time, we should hold ourselves accountable for doing more.
Over this next year, we have work to do. And as dark as December may seem, it is also a season of light. And the heroism of those families, of the first responders, of the community of Sandy Hook should provide us with the inspiration we need to honor those brave and wonderful children, to honor them with action, not just words.
I yield the floor.