A Grandmother on the Loss of Her Black Grandson

This post was written by Dr. Ann Gantt, a Black social worker who lost her grandson to gun violence.

Some experiences do not grab our attention until they land in our own backyards. As a social worker who has practiced for more than 30 years, I have helped many individuals and families who have experienced a tragedy. However, despite my skills, training, and experience, I was not prepared when a tragedy landed in my own backyard. That phrase carries both figurative and literal meaning for me. On January 4, 2015, my 22-year-old grandson Dante (not his real name) was shot. Shortly after, he was found deceased in a nearby backyard. He was a young Black male and he was murdered at the hands of another young Black male.

After a period of turning inward to process the deep pain that I was experiencing, I had a desire to turn outward and use my experience to help others in some way. I thought that by sharing my story I could enlighten the understanding of others… both those with and without a similar experience.

The following statistics further prompted me to share my experience:

• “Homicide is a leading cause of death for young people in the United States aged 15-34, but it has a disproportionate impact on one subset of the population: African American males” (Sharkey & Friedson, 2019, p. 645).
• The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention listed homicide as the leading cause of death in 2017 (the most recent year that these data are available) for Black males ages 15-34 (Heron, 2019). This was higher than for comparable groups of White males, Black females, and White females.
• According to the Violence Policy Center (2020), the homicide rate for Black male victims in 2017 was 37.32 per 100,000 as compared to 4.45 per 100,000 for White males.
• FBI statistics reveal that young Black males are most often murdered by another young Black male (FBI, 2019).

The Shooting

My day began as usual. I attended church service. That evening, my daughter and I were reminiscing about the holiday break. As a school social worker, I was off for the holiday break and was preparing to return the next morning. Then, we heard on the news that a shooting had occurred in our city.

I shudder when I remember the fast-moving footsteps down the stairs and the shrill voice of my daughter who exclaimed, “It was Dante. Dante is dead." She became aware because of a post on Facebook. Immediately, we left the house to figure out what had happened. After spending some time going around to different hospitals and then to the local police station where we were joined by a multitude of others, the police confirmed that indeed it was Dante.

Looking back, I remember how excited I was on Christmas Day, 2014 when I was told that Dante would be coming to my house to join us for dinner. I rushed to get his favorite foods (especially the macaroni and cheese that he loved so much) ready for him. I remember telling him before he left to stay in touch. He replied, “I will, Grandmom." I never knew that would be the last time that I would see him alive.

Far-Reaching Effects

Many of Dante’s peers were willing to lend support from the moment we found out he had been murdered. Through observing and talking to them, the feelings associated with their grief were apparent. In one picture, some who served as pallbearers can be seen leaning over his casket at the cemetery. Very often, young Black males are portrayed in a negative light. Yet they grieve just like others do. And they need support just like others do.

One friend was at the scene. He had also been shot but he survived. He witnessed the entire event. I think about how there is no one else in this world who saw firsthand what he did.

I feel so sad for the children who are left behind. This sentiment is reflected in my own words from the victim impact statement that I prepared:

"Defendant, you robbed me and my family but especially Dante’s children. Dante’s father was able to see him grow up and develop a close relationship with him. You have taken that opportunity away from Dante and his children."

I know how difficult all of this has been for me to process, even as an adult. Dante’s children have begun to ask questions. I expect that there will be many more. Since Dante’s death, I have heard others share that this is their greatest fear—deciding what to say to the children and when.

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In these situations, two families are affected. As a father said to the mother of his son’s killer:

"I’m looking at two victims. We’re both victims. Nobody won out of it. Nobody won out of the whole deal."

One family will never see their young Black male again. The other will, although behind bars. In essence, two lives are lost.

My Journey Continues

I know that my personal healing journey will continue for the remainder of my life. As a friend of mine said to the young Black male defendant in her son’s case at his sentencing, "You know, me and you have something in common. We’re both doing life. Because my life will never be the same.”

My desire is to continue to share my story in order to educate anyone who is willing to read about and listen to it. Why? Because the lives of our young Black males, all of them, are worth fighting for.