By Mansfield Frazier
The ongoing national (and often raging) debate over gun control took a very personal turn for me recently, and here’s how. My daughter called me in a tizzy; her daughter, my granddaughter Catie, who lives, works and goes to school in Columbus, was being threatened with bodily harm.
She’d moved to Columbus a few years ago to attend college. Although she was exceptionally intelligent, she’d only been a so-so student in high school in spite of the fact her mother (who’s a middle school teacher) and I attempted to impress upon her the financial benefit of getting good grades, which, of course, converts to scholarship money. But she didn’t listen and now has to work her way through college, which she doesn’t seem to mind one bit.
She’d always loved to run her mouth, so when she looked for a job she was a natural fit for a large national call center where her verbal skills allowed her to excel where others struggle. Getting a phone slammed down in her ear evidently didn’t bother her at all. Within a year she was promoted to supervisor — which she just loved as bossy as she is.
Nonetheless she was, by all accounts, very professional and she’d mentioned to the general manager that one of the new hires assigned to her area was a bit odd. The woman had recently moved to Columbus from West Virginia, and Catie said she knew the woman’s thick accent could prove a hindrance on the phones. She was just about ready to recommend the woman be terminated when she got a strange and disturbing phone call.
The woman and her husband evidently had a long-term on-again-off-again relationship and she had moved to Ohio to get away from him, but he’d followed her. Somehow he’d gotten hold of my granddaughter’s home phone number and left a message saying that he knew Catie was “covering” for his wife, who he suspected of fooling around on him. When my granddaughter confronted the woman the next day, she admitted that she had told him a couple of times that they had gone out after work together for a couple of drinks. Her reason for doing so was simply because she didn’t want to be bothered with him and his “issues.” He evidently was on medication for some sort of mental condition.
When the man called back the next day telling my granddaughter that he knew where she lived, she reported the call to her general manager and then called the police. The upshot was, both said there was little they could do until after he committed an overt act. What the hell was that supposed to mean — they had to wait until he killed her before they did anything?
She went to the county prosecutor’s office where a very wise woman informed her that restraining orders are only good if the person being restrained elects to pay any attention to it. The woman advised her not to place too much confidence in a piece of paper. Before the man could be located and served with the restraining order he called again and told my granddaughter he was sitting in her parking lot in a black pickup truck. She called the police and when she looked out of the window the truck pulled off. The police said to call them back if he reappeared, but beyond that, there was little they could do.
The next day is when her mother told her to call me. She was at work and was afraid to go home. I ordered (yes, ordered) her to call the police and ask them to escort her to her apartment so that she could pick up some clothes and personal items and follow her to the highway so she could bring her ass home. When the desk sergeant gave her a hard time I had her three-way the call. He quickly understood that if anything happened to my granddaughter from this point forward I was holding the police department responsible, and asked to speak to his commander. I was assured that would not be necessary and within an hour my granddaughter was on her way to Cleveland.
Being a dedicated employee and having a class scheduled for that evening she had been reluctant to leave … a mistake — sometimes a fatal one — that others make. Since rarely in their lives do most folks encounter such a threat of bodily harm, they tend to discount them, blow them off. Again, a mistake some don’t live to make again. Once I’d heard the man was on meds (which he might or might not had been taking) and had acted out violently against his wife in the past, this was an easy call for me to make. Work and school don’t mean very much if you’re not around to go to them.
When Catie arrived in Cleveland she was outraged that an unhinged person was able to disrupt her orderly life, and even more outraged at the fact she had little recourse or protection be offered by those in authority. She felt this was grossly unfair and downright wrong.
“If I had a gun I’d protect myself,” she said, without a trace of trepidation in her voice. While I’d been raised around guns I’d come to question if firearms indeed are the solution the NRA touts them to be. In fact, most often it’s the untrained gun owner, or a member of his family, that is injured or killed by having a weapon in the house. Nonetheless, I called a friend of mine who’s a certified firearms instructor. It immediately struck me how my views on gun ownership changed when it was someone I love whose life is in danger.
By the end of the next day Catie had the training and a concealed carry permit. She went out and bought herself a handgun and by Monday was back in her apartment in Columbus. The deranged man who had threatened her drove his truck into a bridge abutment at a high rate of speed, either by accident or on purpose, but in any case he’s not around anymore to intimidate anyone.
Within a month though, Catie found a shooting range close to where she lived, and at the end of six months owned four additional firearms … thus the title of this article. While she was warmly received by the overwhelmingly white clientele that frequented the shooting range, and firmly believed in her First Amendment right to bear arms, she only sipped at the Kool-Aid the more rabid gun owners were serving up … she’s yet to gulp it down. She believes in banning both assault weapons and high capacity clips.
In fact, she recently wrote a brilliant essay on gun ownership for a statewide organization that claimed first prize, and is about to become a certified firearms instructor herself. She quickly realized the businessmen who run the NRA knows the largest demographic for them in terms of creating new gun owners is among black females.
Her life was moving along nicely. She’d landed the job she’s wanted for years in the Human Resources Department at that huge university that dominates Columbus, and was enjoying the great outdoors with her newfound friends … that is until the day she was summoned into her supervisor’s office.
It seems as if someone at the university spotted the NRA membership sticker on the back bumper of her car, right next to the decal offering firearms training classes. The anonymous person (who evidently worked at the university) stated she was “afraid” of my granddaughter. “Afraid” of exactly what the person didn’t say. Maybe it was because so many black females have gone off the deep end and shot up a bunch of innocent folks. The last incident I recall was … when was that again? The simple fact is, it’s never happened, but hey, some people feel they can’t be too careful.
Catie called me to ask if I could recommend at lawyer in Columbus, just in case she needed one; however, after informing her I knew several, listening to her dilemma, and asking a couple of pertinent questions I offered her some suggestions. First, if she indeed needed legal representation she could probably receive it gratis from the NRA, but that was not the course I suggested she take.
After she informed me she liked her job (and is set to earn her degree in the field this year) I told her a fact of life: She could certainly win this battle (on First Amendment rights) but she’d just as certainly lose the long-term war. While they might not immediately fire her, they probably eventually would, but in any case future promotions were out of the question. Her career would be dead.
I suggested that if the job meant more to her than displaying the bumper sticker that she take it off the vehicle, which she did. But then she took my other advice and approached her NRA friends about becoming a paid spokesperson for the organization since single, black females is the demographic this organization’s number one recruiting priority. She just might be able to take a lemon and make lemonade. Whatever she does, one thing is certain: I feel more secure about her safety knowing she’s a trained firearm owner. (I still can’t believe I just wrote that!).
From Cool Cleveland correspondent Mansfield B. Frazier mansfieldfATgmail.com. Frazier’s From Behind The Wall: Commentary on Crime, Punishment, Race and the Underclass by a Prison Inmate is available again in hardback. Snag your copy and have it signed by the author by visiting http://NeighborhoodSolutionsInc.com.
One Response to “MANSFIELD: My Granddaughter the Gun Nut”
Ken
It sounds as though your granddaughter had the courage and conviction to stand up for herself and responsibility for her protection when she was faced with no other viable option. Sadly, you advised her not to do the same where her freedom of expression was concerned. Living in fear is a terrible thing, whether it be fear of physical harm or fear paying an unfair price in your career when your views are seen as unpopular. Is her second amendment right more important to defend than her first? Giving in to fear gives power to those who would unjustly persecute us. You, too, Mr. Mansfield, have given in to this fear by throwing up your arms in the face and saying, “That’s it, your career there is over. Lose the bumper sticker or lose your dreams.” What a poor example to set, assuming the worst of your granddaughter’s bosses and the organization for which she works. We all have our opinions about how the world works. How many of these opinions are based on assumptions that we know the minds and hearts of those around us.