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gun lobby
Still Marching: 25 Years After the Million Mom March
We didn’t march 25-years ago because we wanted to. We marched because we had to—children were dying. They still are.
May 11, 2025
I’d never seen anything like it: a mother standing quietly in the crowd, wearing a plain white T-shirt with a large photo of a young boy flashing a wide grin, a missing front tooth, and a superhero logo across his chest. Below the picture, in simple black letters, “Darius Carter 1993-1999 Forever Six.”
She was living my worst nightmare, her beautiful six-year-old son had been shot and killed. And there she was, surrounded by thousands of other moms wearing similar shirts, refusing to let her son be forgotten.
We were just feet from the massive, bright pink-and-white Million Mom March stage on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., listening to speakers demand Congress pass common sense gun laws. It was Mother’s Day 2000—25 years ago.
Darius’ mom and I stood among 750,000 parents, grandparents, and children holding signs, wearing Million Mom March shirts, and carrying photos of loved ones lost to gun violence. Across the country, hundreds of sister marches rose up in solidarity. For many, like me, it was our first protest.
Twenty-five years ago, we marched because we believed a safer world was possible.
But the Million Mom March was more than a protest. It was a collective outcry—stitched together by grief, fueled by hope, and driven by one belief: no child should die by gun violence. With Congress failing to act, mothers across the country rose up— angry, determined, demanding change.
I never imagined I would become an activist. But on April 20, 1999, I sat frozen in front of my TV, heart pounding, as the unthinkable unfolded at Columbine High School—my alma mater. My basketball coach, Dave Sanders, was killed along with twelve students.
Something inside me broke.
I went from a stay-at-home mom with a six- and two-year-old, juggling diapers, nap schedules, and tantrums, to a gun control activist with a new sense of purpose. The following year I organized and led a delegation from Oregon to the D.C. march.
The Million Mom March was a tipping point. It sparked national conversations about gun laws and helped launch a lasting movement—it later merged with the Brady Campaign, amplifying the call for reform. The march also introduced life-saving initiatives like the ASK (Asking Saves Kids) campaign, which urges parents to ask one critical question before their child visits a friend’s home: Is there an unlocked gun in the house? It’s a simple question that can prevent tragedy. Each year, unintentional shootings injure or kill an average of 363 children in the U.S.
In the 25-years since, the movement—propelled by that day on the National Mall—has helped reshaped the fight for gun safety in America. It ignited one of the first large-scale grassroots campaigns, led to the formation of Brady Campaign chapters, and paved the way for groups like Moms Demand Action. It also spurred a wave of state-level reforms: dozens of states passed child access prevention laws, expanded background checks, and enacted red flag laws—one of our most promising tools for temporarily removing firearms from individuals who pose a danger to themselves or others.
Despite the progress, the crisis has grown worse. In 2000, about 28,000 people died from gun-related injuries in the U.S.—a staggering number. Today, it’s soared to over 48,000 per year—132 lives taken every day. Gun violence is now the leading cause of death for children and teens in America, surpassing car crashes, drownings, and cancer.
So what happened? Political courage withered and the gun lobby adapted.
They pushed through PLCCA, granting themselves sweeping immunity from lawsuits. They blocked federal funding for gun violence research. And in 2008, they won a Supreme Court ruling that redefined the Second Amendment as an individual right and struck down local gun safety laws.
The COVID-19 pandemic certainly didn’t help. It created a perfect storm: fear, isolation, distrust of government, and economic insecurity, all of which led to record-breaking gun sales. Millions of first-time gun buyers flooded the market, many without proper safety training. The gun industry profited from the fear, and communities are still paying the price.
Meanwhile, untraceable ghost guns flooded our communities, and leaders in many states chose to weaken gun laws rather than strengthen them. The gun industry seized the moment, expanding its appeal.
Twenty-five years ago, the typical gun buyer was a middle-aged man, and gun ownership was in decline. Today, the industry aggressively markets to women, young adults, and even parents—selling pink pistols to moms and tactical diaper bags to dads—casting gun ownership as a form of family empowerment. As sales rose, so did deaths.
So what now? We march again—in new ways, in new places, with the same resolve.
First, we confront the gun industry’s false promises to women and families. Marketing isn’t the problem; it’s the deadly narrative that owning a gun makes your home safer. It simply doesn’t. Research shows that a gun in the home increases the risk of homicide by 100%, suicide by 50%, and unintentional death significantly. I’ve witnessed how quickly an unsecured gun can turn a moment of fear, anger, or despair into an irreversible tragedy.
Second, we shift the national conversation from gun rights to gun responsibilities. Rights come with duties. An unsecured gun doesn’t just put your family at risk—it endangers neighbors, classmates, and entire communities. Only about 6% of guns used in crimes are stolen, yet those guns are far more likely to be used in violent crimes. And nearly 74% of school shooters under 18 got their gun from home or a relative. These aren’t just tragedies, they’re preventable. Responsible gun owners lock up their firearms, store ammunition separately, and support common-sense policies like mandatory reporting of lost or stolen guns, child access prevention laws, and required training. Supporting background checks and red flag laws isn’t anti-gun, it’s pro-responsibility.
Third, gun violence groups must work together.
In 2000, there was one widely recognized national organization: the Brady Campaign. Today there are many, but they often compete for funding, attention, and influence. It’s time to align, collaborate, and focus our collective energy against a fractured gun lobby whose primary strategy remains fear and bravado. Only by working together can we create sustained lasting change.
Finally, we must elevate and invest in the next generation of activists. Today’s young people have grown up with lockdowns and active shooter drills. They understand the stakes—viscerally. Their leadership was undeniable after the 2018 Parkland shooting, when survivors organized March for Our Lives, one of the largest single-day protests in U.S. history. Those of us who marched in 2000 must now step up and mentor, resource, and amplify this rising generation. Our kids’ lives depend on it.
Twenty-five years ago, we marched because we believed a safer world was possible. I often think of Carole Price, who bravely stood on stage that day and told us about her 13-year-old son, John—shot and killed while playing at a friend’s house. “It never occurred to me to ask about guns,” she said. “I wish I had asked the question.” Then she said something I’ll never forget: “It might be uncomfortable to ask the question. But I can tell you from personal experience, it’s a lot more uncomfortable to pick out a casket for your child.”
Even now—despite the setbacks, the rising death toll, and the political paralysis—I still believe. I believe in this next generation, in the power of parents and survivors, and in ordinary people who refuse to look away. We didn’t march 25-years ago because we wanted to. We marched because we had to—children were dying. They still are.
So we keep going. Because really, what other choice do we have?
'May You Rot in Hell, Wayne': LaPierre Resigns From NRA Before Corruption Trial
The outgoing gun lobby chief cited health reasons for the move. One critic responded that "for decades, Wayne LaPierre functioned without a heart and half a brain so he must be in very dire straits."
Jan 05, 2024
Gun control advocates celebrated on Friday as Wayne LaPierre announced he is stepping down as chief executive of the National Rifle Association—a development that comes just days ahead of a New York corruption trial scheduled to start on Monday.
LaPierre, who has led the NRA for over three decades, is an individual defendant in New York Attorney General Letitia James' case targeting the gun lobbying group. The 74-year-old cited health reasons for the resignation, which will take effect on January 31.
"For decades, Wayne LaPierre functioned without a heart and half a brain so he must be in very dire straits," quipped Shannon Watts, founder of the anti-gun violence group Moms Demand Action.
Watts framed LaPierre's exit as a win for his fiercest critics, highlighting that Moms Demand Action "shined a light on his unethical, immoral, and corrupt misdeeds for over a decade."
"As a reminder, LaPierre used millions of NRA dollars to buy Italian suits, reward family and friends, pay for family vacations to the Bahamas. He mismanaged the NRA. And he may have violated charity laws," Watts added in a nod to the New York trial.
March for Our Lives noted Friday that James' case was initiated after the youth-led group "looked into the NRA's finances and wrote a letter to the NYAG about potentially illegal activity by the NRA."
"Thoughts and prayers, Wayne," added March for Our Lives, which formed after the 2018 mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.
Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW) president and CEO Noah Bookbinder similarly said that "we've been focused for years on abuses by the NRA's Wayne LaPierre, including in a... complaint filed in 2020. His resignation today is overdue, but an important step."
The case in New York "is a civil lawsuit, so there's no risk of jail time or criminal penalties for LaPierre or the three others named in the suit," but if the NRA loses, it could mean leadership changes and more oversight of the gun group, NPR's Brian Mann explained earlier this week.
Los Angeles Times senior legal affairs columnist Harry Litman observed that LaPierre's resignation "perhaps suggests he's looking to try to settle the case." However, the state attorney general quickly pushed back against speculation that the strategy would work.
James said Friday that "the end of the Wayne LaPierre era at the NRA is an important victory in our case. LaPierre's resignation validates our claims against him, but it will not insulate him from accountability. We look forward to presenting our case in court."
In its statement about LaPierre, the NRA said that in response to James' allegations, its board "has undertaken significant efforts to perform a self-evaluation, recommended termination of disgraced 'insiders' and vendors who allegedly abused the association, and accepted reimbursement, with interest, for alleged excess benefit transactions from LaPierre, as reported in public tax filings."
LaPierre is set to be replaced by longtime NRA executive and head of general operations Andrew Arulanandam as interim CEO.
NRA Bid to End Corruption Probe Fails in New York
New York Attorney General Letitia James has provided "ample evidence of malfeasance" at the gun rights group, a five-judge panel said.
Dec 28, 2023
A New York state court will move forward with a case brought by the state against the National Rifle Association, following an appeals court ruling on Thursday that rejected the powerful pro-gun group's claim that the probe violated its First Amendment rights.
A panel of five judges in the Appellate Division in Manhattan unanimously ruled that state Attorney General Letitia James has probable cause to investigate the NRA over allegations that it diverted millions of dollars to fund the lavish lifestyles of executives including Wayne LaPierre, its chief executive officer.
James sued the NRA in August 2020, saying executives also failed to obtain board approval for conflicts of interest and retaliated against whistleblowers who spoke out against allegations of financial misconduct. She is seeking an overhaul of the NRA's leadership, including the removal of LaPierre.
The appeals court said James has provided "ample evidence of malfeasance" at the organization, and has authority to enforce state laws governing nonprofits.
The NRA has claimed James' case against it is politically motivated. James unsuccessfully attempted to have the NRA dissolved through the court system in 2022.
The court on Thursday noted that other nonprofits have restructured their leadership, but the NRA has so far refused to do so.
The judge who ruled against dissolving the NRA, Justice Joel Cohen, will hear the corruption case on January 8.
In June, Cohen denied motions by the NRA that claimed James' investigation was unconstitutional and politically motivated, saying the NRA could not make those claims as a defense at the upcoming trial.
The NRA, James said at the time, has "used every tool and trick to try and avoid the consequences of their bad actions."
"I will continue to fight tirelessly," she added, "to bring the NRA and its senior executives to justice and ensure all people, companies, and not-for-profits adhere to the rule of law in New York."
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