We’re running out of words as more bloodshed adds to the unending shame of our city

I’m supposed to have the words. But after a Parks and Recreation worker was gunned down at Mill Creek Playground earlier this month, and the death of a 14-year-old who was killed Tuesday when a group of football players was shot in Roxborough, what I mostly have is a sick feeling deep in the pit of my stomach.

An overwhelming sense of despair and disgust over this relentless epidemic, this public health crisis. This absolute shame of our city.

Shame.

We should all feel deep shame that within the span of a few weeks, a mother who answered the city’s call this summer to keep children safe, and then children who listened when they were told to stay in school and out of trouble, were all gunned down on our streets.

But instead, gun violence has become a daily drip of pain and loss so persistent that we’ve all but become numb to it — even while uttering words of grief and outrage. So many words as we near (another) year with a record number of shootings and homicides.

And yet, every once in a while, there are those losses that seem to shake the city to its core, that even after years of writing about gun violence I hope will be the turning point in Philadelphia.

Now, this is the part in every gun violence conversation where we say that this isn’t just a Philly problem. Guns, and gun violence, are an American problem that has affected every city and state in a country that pledges allegiance to few things more eagerly than guns. We’re reminded — after Sandy Hook, after Uvalde, after whatever horrific tragedy comes next — that not even the massacre of babies has been enough to change that reality. But while devastatingly true, those arguments increasingly feel like excuses to throw our hands up in defeat, to wait for a savior who is never coming — and we just can’t afford to do that. Not in our city.

The death of Tiffany Fletcher, a 41-year-old mother of three, seemed to be one of those potential turning points. Fletcher was working at Mill Creek Playground on the afternoon of Sept. 9 when she was caught in a cross fire of teenagers shooting at one another. Police believe she was shot by a 14-year-old boy. They also believe the group of shooters in Roxborough are children.

On Monday morning, I went to the Deliverance Evangelistic Church near 20th Street and Lehigh Avenue, where Fletcher was given a funeral fit for a public servant who lost her life while in service to her community: police and fire officials lined the streets, a hearse with glass windows sat parked by the curb. Inside the church, friends, family, and city officials struggled to find words — because what words are sufficient for her boys, now left to grow up without her, and for her community that showed up to do what too many in this city do on a daily basis: grieve?

My god, how we grieve in this city.

As I stood in line to enter the nave, two women talked behind me. One mentioned an upcoming court appearance for the person accused of killing her son. She was distraught; it was on the anniversary of the day he was killed. Many attendees wore personalized T-shirts decorated with a smiling photo of Fletcher. Some also carried with them images of other loved ones lost to gun violence on homemade buttons and necklaces.

We grieved, silently, collectively, generously as mourners reflexively raised their voices to console Parks and Recreation Commissioner Kathryn Ott Lovell, who wept while she addressed the room.

“As a mom myself, I cannot imagine losing my child,” she said, her words catching in her throat.

From the pews came calls to continue: “It’s all right. … It’s all right …” Which of course it wasn’t. None of this is all right.

I don’t lay the gun crisis in our city at the feet of one mayor or even one administration; that’s too easy and lets too many people off the hook — some of whom are trying to rewrite history and others who are now seeking Mayor Jim Kenney’s office.

But it’s hard not to be filled with despair and rage at the empty gestures. Especially when the day after Fletcher was laid to rest, hours after Kenney signed an executive order banning firearms in city-owned recreation spaces, five teenagers were shot after a football scrimmage outside Roxborough High School.

Nicolas Elizalde, a 14-year-old from Havertown, was killed, and four teens were wounded. More than 60 spent bullet casings were recovered at the scene.

In a statement Kenney said in part, “There are no words for what transpired earlier tonight.”

None that will alleviate the pain anyway. But that didn’t stop people from all corners of the city from commenting and tweeting and issuing statements in a way they usually don’t after calamities like this.

If that sounds like shade, it mostly isn’t. It’s a call for everyone in this city to put your blood, sweat, and tears behind your words.

So, if as Superintendent Tony Watlington Sr. said, the schools are “firmly committed … to better address the gun violence that is affecting our students and communities throughout the city,” then, Dr. Watlington, make that your No. 1 priority in your first year on the job — because while the city’s school system has many issues, nothing else will work in the district until students feel safe.

If, as Democratic U.S. Sen. Bob Casey said in a statement: “This is yet another horrible example of why we need more comprehensive gun legislation to protect our communities,” then, Sen. Casey, we need you to push for more gun legislation as if your own children’s lives depended on it.

If, as District Attorney Larry Krasner said, he’s “absolutely outraged” and “shaken” by the shooting — as we all should be — then, Mr. Krasner, you need to find a better balance between criminal justice reform and holding people accountable for actions that are crushing our city.

If, as Eagles wide receiver A.J. Brown tweeted out, “We have to do better. We have to protect our children man,” then, Big Play A.J., take that passion from the field and into the communities of your new city.

If, as usual after school shootings, thoughts and prayers abound, we need to demand something else, because thoughts and prayers without action are nothing but just more words.