A traffic crash had me sitting still for thirty minutes, or so, which was just long enough to make my getting to work on time a bit on the iffy side. So iffy, in fact, that when I finally did arrive at the “institution,” I slammed the shift into park, grabbed my lunch box, and made it inside for role call just in the nick of time. But only after jogging across the parking lot playing “dodge and weave” through the rows of parked vehicles. Another two minutes and the captain would’ve written me up. The first step to guaranteed time off without pay. A crappy start to a crappy night.

The 4 p.m. count was off. I counted 220 inmates and the outgoing officer counted 219. On the second walk-through I got 219 and her total was 220. On the third attempt we both counted 219. The trouble there was that the actual total in our building should’ve been 221. We got it right on the fourth pass. I was still sweating from my sprint across the lot, and my heart was doing double duty inside my chest.

My duty assignment for the shift was as “Floater,” meaning I had no specific designated area, such as working the SHU (Specialized Housing Unit) or as an officer posted at the gate or in a tower. My responsibility was to walk, look, and assist where needed. But my first order of business was, well, I got stuck with being posted standing outside the chow hall to monitor “the line.” 800 inmates, all waiting for the doors to open so they could get their once-per-month piece of real meat—bone-in chicken.

It’s like a freakin’ holiday in that place on “chicken day.” Actually, I didn’t blame the prisoners for their exuberance since the rest of their meals consisted of things that were not easily identifiable.

Believe it or not, my job was to stand there like an elementary school safety patrol clutz, preventing grown-ass men from cutting line. Of course, there were fights. Some tatted-up white guy cut in front of the black guys. A black guy cut in front of the Nazi Lowriders. And the Mexican Mafia was putting up with none of it. Then all hell broke loose. And it was me, little old me, against them until reinforcements arrived.

Finally, after the dust settled and ten prisoners were carted off to the hole (SHU), the evening meal passed without further trouble, and the chicken actually looked pretty good. No way I’d have tasted it, though. Couldn’t pay me to eat food cooked by inmates.

I spent the next four hours out on the yard where the inmates segregate themselves by race and ethnicity—black guys by the basketball courts, the Native Americans dominated the handball courts, white guys occupy the area by the softball field, Hispanics own the soccer field, and the Italians settled at the bocci area. Jewish inmates also segregated themselves. And, each group has their own little cliques inside each of their areas.

Some of the white guys sit to themselves to play guitars. A few of the black guys hang out by the picnic tables testing their latest rap songs on their buddies. And, well, you get the idea. But the one thing that’s clear is that there is generally no mixing of the ethnic groups. The only real exception to the no-mixing rule is with the gay guys. They hang out with anybody who’ll have them and no one cares.

There are inmate “guards” who stand watch over each group and it’s their duty to let their people know if or when trouble approaches, including a visit from from staff. Looking in from the outside you’d think the inmates are doing nothing more enjoying a bit of fun time. The reality is that many of them of are scheming and plotting all sorts of things. I made a point to waltz through each area as often as I could to let them know that I knew what’s up. Besides, there’s some real talent in those places, so listening to their music is sometimes like attending a real concert on the outside. They’re that good.

Only one stabbing out there on the yard on this particular shift, and that happened when the 9 p.m. buzzer sounded to announce the yard was closing. Too many people in a group to see who stuck the guy so there were no charges and no one went to the hole for it. Investigators would review the videos later.

After everyone was back inside and the doors were locked, it was time to count them again. 221 on the first pass and, by the way, that’s 221 inmates locked inside an open dormitory with only two officers to watch over them.

TV rooms within the housing units are also self-segregated in the same manner as the rec yard and chow hall—Hispanics in one room, whites and blacks each to themselves. Each inmate has to bring his own chair from his cubicle if he wants to sit. The big TVs in the common area rooms are for watching sports and movies, or whatever the majority wants to see. Of course that, too, is dominated by whichever ethnic group has the most people in the room at the time.

There’s a room at the front of the dorm where inmates do their own cooking, using one of the half-dozen microwaves that’re perched on a long shelf attached to a wall. The opposite wall is home to community washers and dryers. The meals these guys prepare using minimal tools and ingredients are pretty amazing. And the desserts…all I can say is…incredible.

Inmates purchase their recipe ingredients from the commissary—items such as bell peppers, onions, tomatoes, sardines, potted meat, tuna, cakes, cookies, etc. And, course, they utilize whatever they can steal from the dining hall. Kitchen workers “take” things and sell them to the others.

• Jewish inmates receive special kosher meals, which are often far better than the daily slop served to the rest of the population, so they’re often sold to other inmates for a nice profit.

Inmate “chefs” somehow turn those ragtag ingredients into dishes that would make any Chopped contestant extremely envious. When the meals are ready the cooks share with their close friends, or they deliver the steaming hot food to other inmates who’d paid to have the meals prepared for them. The Italian “bosses” really seem to fare pretty well in this regard, having their meals catered, shoes shined, clothing washed and pressed, hair trimmed, etc.

At night the place is extremely loud with chatter and laughter, card playing, TVs blaring, and such, but when the buzzer sounds for lights out it all comes to a halt. A pin dropped onto the gleaming concrete floor would resound like the 13-ton bell of Big Ben.

The time between 10 p.m. lights-out and midnight shift change is typically a quiet time. Most inmates get up early to go to work, so they do little more than immediately go to sleep. Some, however, read (they’re allowed to have book lights) or think of loved ones while listening to Delilah playing sad songs and telling sappy, sad stories on their radios (ear buds or headphones must be used at all times). However, it’s around 2 a.m. when things become a bit challenging, even for the most experienced officers, because that’s often a time when the pants come down and the bending over begins—willingly, or not.

The first time I rounded a corner and saw two men, one bent over and backed up to the front of another, well, I didn’t know what to say. I’d only been a corrections officer about two weeks at the time and, honestly, the sight totally embarrassed me. It was dark, and I was using my flashlight to illuminate the cubicles and their occupants, and when my light hit those two guys they immediately stopped what they were doing, but didn’t separate, and gave me that “deer in the headlights” look.

Not the actual inmate. No deer were harmed during the writing of this article. Embarrassed, maybe, but not harmed.

I’m sure the expression on my face was quite similar. Thankfully, they couldn’t see me (but I’d certainly seen far too much of them). All I could think to do was snap off the light, and did. When I switched it back on a second later they were “apart.” I never mentioned it to anyone and neither did they.

So my shift was nearly over and it was almost time to drive home. I was sleepy and tired and was looking forward to crawling between the sheets for some well-earned shut-eye. In addition to my shift at the prison, I’d worked all day at my second job, digging, planting, pruning shrubs, and mowing lawns.

However, just as I was exchanging keys with the oncoming building officer, my sergeant stopped by to tell me that I’d been drafted to work the midnight shift. Seems that someone on the next shift had called in sick and my name was next on the list for the draft. To make matters worse, I’d been assigned to tower duty for the next eight hours. Mind-numbing tower duty, where you sit in a small box on stilts and stare out at absolutely nothing for an entire shift. Radios and cell phones aren’t allowed, so keeping the old eyelids open is always a chore.

But it’s a job. A job that, at best, is not great. But, where else could you go to have crap and urine thrown in your face every day of your life? Ah, you gotta love what you do, right?

Yeah, right…

The house was small by any standard. Just four rooms, neither of which was a bathroom. Inside, were two children, a boy of five and a tiny girl—a toddler—who was just getting the hang of walking and talking. A small kerosene heater sat in the center of what the family called the front room. Its tank was empty and the flame had long ago burned out. Icicles dangled from the decaying front porch overhang. The dirt yard, what I could see of it, was a resting spot for junk cars, non-working appliances, tattered furniture, old tires, and a pitiful and old mixed breed dog chained to an engine block. I knew the place almost as well as I know the back of my hand, because this was at least the umpteenth time I’d been there, for various reasons. She stabbed me. He hit me. They beat the kids. Shoplifting. Cocaine. Shots fired. Stolen property. Armed robbery. Prostitution. Yes, I knew it well.

I received the call just after midnight. “A concerned neighbor reported two small children left alone in the house while the mother is out buying crack. The father is there, outside, but he’s so intoxicated he can’t stand up. The neighbor says she heard loud arguing followed by two gunshots. That’s when she called. She also said her husband said to ask that you be the one to respond, if possible.”

I parked my patrol car next to a dented vintage Cadillac that sat atop four cinder-blocks. Its tires had been removed, a sight that, for some unknown reason, reminded me of a toothless old person. I was behind that very car when the owner crashed it while driving drunk and trying to outrun the police (me). The driver immediately jumped out and ran and stumbled and pulled up his pants a dozen times as he moved across a small field and into the backyard of a small church. I caught him when he reached a chain-link fence and tried to dive over. He vigorously resisted my attempts to handcuff him, including a couple of nasty bites to my hand and arm. That was a long time ago, but some things, and people, never change.

When I stepped out of my car and into the cold, I glanced around at the other houses lining the street. All were similar—four rooms, lacking paint, yards devoid of grass, and filled with the same despair as the one before me. I’d “visited” most of those, as well. Many times. The area was as close to hell on earth as you could get and poverty was only the tip of the troubles.

Standing in the streets at various locations in the neighborhood were an assortment of drug runners, the guys who hold small amounts of crack cocaine while the larger supplies are held inside one of the houses. There was absolutely no shame in their games as they stood there blocking the roadway when cars, including police cars, approached. Some they moved for and others they didn’t. I was one of the officers who, for some reason, they allowed to pass without confrontation. Mainly, I suppose, they knew I wouldn’t stand for it. Not for a second. After all, standing in the street, interfering with traffic is illegal, and dangerous, and it was an open invitation for arrest which would allow a search of their pockets.

This was “the trouble spot.” Far more crime occurred there than anywhere else in the jurisdiction. Murders, drug-dealing, rapes, robberies, B&E’s, assaults, shots fired, stabbings, shootings, beatings, domestic violence, child abuse, animal abuse, and arson. Bullet holes in patrol cars, tow trucks, and taxis were a constant reminder of what could happen and sometimes did.

Managers of the apartment complexes in the area offered free rent to any police officer who was willing to move in and park their patrol car out front as a means to at least slow the crime rate. Few accepted the offer and those who did din’t stay for very long. A couple of officers tried to make it work but the department had to stop the program due to the destruction of police cars and equipment, and the danger presented to the participating officers. They were sometimes shot at when coming or going.

I’ve always been a firm believer in community policing and developing relationships with residents. More often than not, I and a few other officers parked our police cars, got out, and walked the neighborhoods. There’s no better method of policing than knowing your beat as well as the people who live there.

I’d sit on front porches, sometimes having a glass of iced tea (I’d been offered something stronger, including an occasional nip of moonshine which was quickly glossed over when they’d realized what they’d said and to whom they’d said it) where I’d chat with the homeowners and other occupants. We discussed everything from sports scores to community affairs to racism. No subject was ever taboo. I even stopped to chat with the drug dealers, and I often offered to help them find real jobs (a couple actually accepted the offers).

I made time to toss footballs with young boys and girls, and I’ve turned quite a few jump ropes in my day, all while in uniform working my shift. By the way, those kids were amazing. They didn’t see me as a police officer. Instead, I was one of them—just another person having fun playing a game with my friends. Of course, they weren’t satisfied until they saw me step in to jump with pistol, handcuffs, and other do-dads on my duty belt bouncing up and down. Their laughter was priceless.

I spent a great deal of my time working patrol in that small section of the jurisdiction. Then, when I became a detective I spent even more time there because that, unfortunately, was the hub of major criminal activity. I was on a first name basis with nearly everyone there and they knew I would be there for them if they needed something, and the same was true in reverse for many of the residents.

Several children came running each time they saw my car turn the corner because they knew I always had some sort of treat for them. When I first started patrolling there the kids would yell “5-0” to alert everyone that a police officer had entered the area. Then they’d run off in the opposite direction. Big change in a relatively short time.

One question that always popped up when I was chatting with the criminals was, “Why are you always in our neighborhood and not “over there?” (referring to a different section of the jurisdiction). My answer was always the same. “We go where we’re needed and we do what we need to do to keep everyone safe. When homes in other areas become the targets for thieves, and the residents there start shooting, robbing, raping, and selling drugs in the streets, I’ll be the first officer there to arrest the bad guys. Until that time comes, though, this neighborhood is where we need to be.”

Officials within my department, along with elected officials, received numerous letters and calls from the citizens in that particular area. The letters expressed the gratitude of the law-abiding residents for the job we were doing in their neighborhood, and it was a good feeling to be appreciated for our efforts.

What made this work so well was that it was a two-way street with dialog and trust between the police and the citizens. To make it work, though, required real effort and real desire. I won’t mislead you by saying this was a smooth and fast transition, because it wasn’t. Not even close. But we managed to erase the lines drawn in the sand and doing so allowed everyone to listen, learn, and act appropriately. Sure, cultures are different—I’m not you nor are you, me—and that will never change, nor should it, but everyone should be treated as equals.

And that’s how it’s done, folks. Not by violence. Not by the media, politicians, and activists with shady agendas fanning the flames. Not by Monday morning armchair cops and crooks and “brave” keyboard and social media warriors. Not by reactions based on emotion and uninformed opinion. And not by trying to make you just like me and me just like you. We’re all equal, but different, and we all see things from different perspectives. We can’t force our beliefs on others, but we can learn to understand.

Good things can happen when good people come together and talk. Talk, not yell and scream accusations based on false narratives and raw emotion.

Yesterday has passed.

Today is a new day.

Now it’s time to jump rope.

I challenge you to try.

BUT … I saw it on Facebook and it was posted by a famous author, or a politician, or Joe the fry cook over at Sally Sue’s Diner and Medicinal Pot Store, so it must be true, right?

Well, let’s pause here, just for a second, to address the trap of “I saw a famous author’s Facebook post so I know it’s true.”

You guys know I love all writers, I really do. You guys are my peeps and I’d do anything in the world to help you, all of you, which is the main reason I’m posting this article. However, not too many well-known authors, with the exceptions of former or current cop/writers such as Joseph Wambaugh, Robin Burcell, and James O. Born, to name a few—have inside knowledge of the police type operations and tactics it takes to properly assess a police action.

For example, a famous poet (this could also apply to plumbers, doctors, and lemonade stand owners) who’s lived deep in the forest for the past thirty years without seeing another living human, sharing a hut with an odd imaginary animated bird and a family of dainty butterflies, probably doesn’t know much about the use of deadly force by police.

Yet, when the quirky poet learns of an incident via carrier pigeon and then posts a heated diatribe about it on Facebook (he has internet service in the hut), based on not much more than emotion, well, suddenly he’s the expert on all things police and civil rights. Why is this so? Because he’s a famous writer with a cool website and we all look up to him. But he’s an expert on writing, not about deadly force and other cop issues.

The folks I mentioned earlier, the writers/cops who are truly “in-the-know,” typically do not spout off opinions publicly about current police situations the second the stories hit the media, if ever, and there are many excellent reasons why they don’t. Mainly because they weren’t there when those events occurred, and to second-guess/armchair quarterback would be reckless and foolish.

Also, those folks, the true experts, have “been there, done that,” so they know what it’s like to attempt to arrest someone who’s hellbent on not going to jail, or to have someone point a gun at them, or to fight for their lives when a bad guy goes for their service weapon. I know I’ve been in each of those situations and it’s not pleasant.

These are just some of the reasons that most former or current officers don’t instantly jump on the “cops murdered an innocent person” bandwagon. They wait for facts, not incomplete videos that typically do not show a scene in it’s entirety, or a view of the situation that could clearly and without doubt explain an officer’s actions, or the things he did wrong or were in violation of the law. However, videos such as the one we saw of the shooting of Walter Scott in South Carolina, well, that’s about as complete and clearcut as they come and I did write about that incident, but only of the facts.

Anyway, let’s take a few minutes to address a few misconceptions regarding a couple of current events. Starting with …

1. A concealed carry permit doesn’t grant immunity from crimes committed while carrying a gun in your pocket.
2. Bullets can easily penetrate cloth. In other words, a gun in the pocket with a finger on the trigger is just as deadly as a gun held out in the open.
3. Use of force during an arrest = the amount of force necessary to make the arrest. If a person complies then the arrest is no more than an officer applying handcuffs to the wrists. If a suspect resists, well, if it takes 20 officers to gain control of the violent offender, then that’s the amount of force necessary. If the 20 officers cannot gain control, then 21, 22, 23 … whatever it takes (yes, I’m exaggerating to make a point). Contrary to what some may believe, it’s not a boxing match where opponents are in similar weight classes and must face their fellow boxer in a one-on-one fight. Officers must always succeed in making the arrest, and they’re to use the amount of force necessary to overcome the resistance of the offender.
4. In deadly force situations, officers are not trained to aim for arms, legs, fingers, toes, weapons, etc. That is a myth.
5. It should be no surprise to anyone that the majority of arrests occur in areas of high crime. Therefore, the majority of people arrested are probably in or from those areas when the arrests occur. The key word here is CRIME. Commit a crime and it’s reasonable to conclude that you just might be arrested for it.
6. Resisting arrest – the crime of physically preventing an officer from conducting an arrest. Acts that are considered as resisting – hiding, running away/fleeing during the arrest, struggling with an officer during the arrest, among others. Attempting to pull a weapon/gun from a pocket during an arrest = resisting and justifies an officer’s use of deadly force.
7. Federal civil rights violations—use of excessive force, sexual assault, intentional false arrests, or the intentional fabrication of evidence resulting in a loss of liberty to another—do not require that any racial, religious, or other discriminatory motive exist. Civil rights violations occur when anyone acting under color of law willfully deprives or conspires to deprive another person of any right protected by the Constitution or laws of the United States. (“Color of law” means that the person doing/committing the act is using power given to him or her by a governmental agency.) The keyword to remember here is “willfully.”

Color of Law Violations (per FBI)

• Excessive force – In making arrests, maintaining order, and defending life, law enforcement officers are allowed to use whatever force is “reasonably” necessary. The breadth and scope of the use of force is vast—from just the physical presence of the officer…to the use of deadly force. Violations of federal law occur when it can be shown that the force used was willfully “unreasonable” or “excessive.”
• Sexual assaults – by officials acting under color of law can happen in jails, during traffic stops, or in other settings where officials might use their position of authority to coerce an individual into sexual compliance. The compliance is generally gained because of a threat of an official action against the person if he or she doesn’t comply.
• False arrest and fabrication of evidence: The Fourth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution guarantees the right against unreasonable searches or seizures. A law enforcement official using authority provided under the color of law is allowed to stop individuals and, under certain circumstances, to search them and retain their property. It is in the abuse of that discretionary power—such as an unlawful detention or illegal confiscation of property—that a violation of a person’s civil rights may occur.Fabricating evidence against or falsely arresting an individual also violates the color of law statute, taking away the person’s rights of due process and unreasonable seizure. In the case of deprivation of property, the color of law statute would be violated by unlawfully obtaining or maintaining a person’s property, which oversteps or misapplies the official’s authority.The Fourteenth Amendment secures the right to due process; the Eighth Amendment prohibits the use of cruel and unusual punishment. During an arrest or detention, these rights can be violated by the use of force amounting to punishment (summary judgment). The person accused of a crime must be allowed the opportunity to have a trial and should not be subjected to punishment without having been afforded the opportunity of the legal process.
• Failure to keep from harm – The public counts on its law enforcement officials to protect local communities. If it’s shown that an official willfully failed to keep an individual from harm, that official could be in violation of the color of law statute.

Absolutely no poets, odd birds, or butterflies were harmed during the writing of this article.

And, as always, please remember that this site is not the place for arguments about politics, gun control, race, religion, and cop-bashing. Let’s continue the rational, factual, and informative discussions as we have in the past.

According to a couple of local news articles, Chicago police are, this morning, touting the “low” number of shootings in the city over the Independence Day weekend. They credit the “small numbers” of gun violence to arresting known gang members prior to the holiday. They also say that an increase of patrol officers on the streets was a huge help in keeping the weekend safe for local residents (as many as 5,000 officers were on patrol as opposed to the normal 3,000 – 4,000 on any given day).

Before moving forward with a review of the weekend festivities, keep in mind, please, that Chicago is pretty darn strict when it comes to owning, purchasing, and possessing firearms. For example, Chicago/Illinois law requires:

• Any Illinois resident who acquires or possesses firearm or firearm ammunition within the State must have in their possession a valid Firearm Owner’s Identification (FOID) card issued in his or her name.
• The FOID card was created in 1968 (that’s 1968, nearly 50 years ago), by the FOID Act, as a way to identify those persons eligible to possess and acquire firearms and firearm ammunition as part of a public safety initiative in the State of Illinois.
• A buyer is required to show his Firearms Owner’s Identification Card (FOID) when purchasing any firearms or ammunition.
• Any seller is required to withhold delivery of any handgun for 72 hours, and of any rifle or shotgun for 24 hours, after the buyer and seller reach an agreement to purchase a firearm.
• It is unlawful to sell, manufacture, purchase, possess or carry any weapon from which more than one shot may be discharged by a single function of the trigger, including the frame or receiver of any such weapon (in other words, machine guns are illegal).
• It is unlawful to possess a silencer.
• It is illegal to possess a firearm on government property (without appropriate permission).
• You must be 21 years of age to purchase a handgun in Chicago.
• It is unlawful to carry or possess any firearm in any vehicle or concealed on or about the person, except on one’s land or in one’s abode or fixed place of business, without a license.

In addition to the Illinois and Chicago laws, there are thousands upon thousands of federal firearms laws on the books, including:

The following classes of people are ineligible to possess, receive, ship, or transport firearms or ammunition:

• Those convicted of crimes punishable by imprisonment for over one year, except state misdemeanors punishable by two years or less.
• Fugitives from justice.
• Unlawful users of certain depressant, narcotic, or stimulant drugs.
• Those adjudicated as mental defectives or incompetents or those committed to any mental institution.
• Illegal aliens.
• Citizens who have renounced their citizenship.
• Those persons dishonorably discharged from the Armed Forces.
• Persons less than 18 years of age for the purchase of a shotgun or rifle.
• Persons less than 21 years of age for the purchase of a firearm that is other than a shotgun or rifle.
• Persons subject to a court order that restrains such persons from harassing, stalking, or threatening an intimate partner.
• Persons convicted in any court of a misdemeanor crime of domestic violence.

Persons under indictment for a crime punishable by imprisonment for more than one year are ineligible to receive, transport, or ship any firearm or ammunition. Under limited conditions, relief from disability may be obtained from the U.S. Secretary of the Treasury, or through a pardon, expungement, restoration of rights, or setting aside of a conviction.

So, with all of these tough as old shoe leather and rusty nails laws on the books, gun violence should be well on the way out the door, right? I mean, not a single Chicago bad guy, if they follow the rules, should never, not ever, have a gun in their hands, right? After all, we know that bad guys always obey the law. And, if we were add more gun laws to the ones already in place, well, the robbers and murderers will automatically stop shooting, right?

Well, someone is shot every two hours in Chicago, and someone is murdered every ten-thirteen hours. Over 330 people have been murdered in Chicago so far this year.

Officer stop-and-frisks (pat-downs for weapons) are down 90% in Chicago. The FOP there says officers basically stopped the practice because of racism allegations, lawsuits, and internet videos that do not show the entire situation.

Stop-and-frisk is fantastic tool that does indeed prevent gun violence, but …

Anyway, thanks to Chicago’s tough gun laws, rounding up known gang members, and a huge police presence over the holiday weekend, these are the people who might not agree with the notion that adding more gun laws will stop bad guys from pulling the trigger, because crooks don’t obey the laws we already have!

 Chicago Shootings Since Friday, and this is considered an improvement:

Friday, 5:25 p.m. — Man shot in West Englewood
Friday, 8:45 p.m. — 16-year-old boy shot in Woodlawn
Friday, 10:35 p.m. — 17-year-old girl shot in Austin
Friday, 10:40 p.m. — Man wounded in South Shore drive-by shooting
Friday, 11:30 p.m. — Man shot in Lawndale
Saturday, 12:50 a.m. — Man wounded in Austin shooting
Saturday, 1:30 a.m. — Man wounded in Englewood shooting
Saturday, 3:30 a.m. — Police: 1 dead, 1 wounded in West Side shooting
Saturday, 3:40 a.m. — Man shot in Heart of Chicago
Saturday, 2 p.m. — 1 shot in West Englewood
Saturday, 3 p.m. — Man shot in Marquette Park
Saturday, 3:30 p.m. — Woman hit by stray bullet in Woodlawn
Saturday, 4:11 p.m. — Man shot in Canaryville
Saturday, 7:37 p.m. — 1 in custody for Morgan Park shooting
Sunday, 2:20 a.m. — Man shot in Little Village
Sunday, 3 a.m. — Man shot in Humboldt Park
Sunday, 3:52 a.m. — Woman grazed by bullet in Longwood Manor
Sunday, 4:52 a.m. — One wounded in Far South Side shooting
Sunday, 6:10 a.m. — 16-year-old boy shot in Lawndale
Sunday, 1:56 p.m. — Man, 18, wounded in Brainerd shooting
Sunday, 10 p.m. — 2 teens shot in Englewood
Sunday, 10:47 p.m. — 15-year-old boy wounded in South Loop shooting
Sunday, 10:50 p.m.  — Woman shot in North Lawndale
Sunday, 10:50 p.m. — Man shot to death in Little Village
Sunday, 11:12 p.m. — Man shot in Park Manor
Sunday, 11:30 p.m. — Man shot in West Garfield Park
Sunday, 11:46 p.m. — Man critically wounded in Gresham drive-by shooting
Monday, 12:47 a.m. — Man critically wounded in shooting, crash Little Village
Monday, 1:24 a.m. — Man critical after Roseland shooting
Monday, 4:10 a.m. — Man shot in Austin
Monday, 8:50 a.m. — Man shot in buttocks in Roseland
Monday, 1:09 p.m. — Person shot in Pullman
Monday, 1:15 p.m. — Man shot in Princeton Park
Monday, 1:30 p.m. — Teen shot on South Side
Monday, 7:16 p.m. — Man wounded in Humboldt Park shooting
Monday, 8:15 p.m. — One wounded in Chicago Lawn shooting
Monday, 8:45 p.m. — Man critically wounded in West Town shooting
Monday, 9:20 p.m. — Police: Man fatally shot in South Shore
Monday, 9:20 p.m. — 2 shot in Englewood
Monday, 9:30 p.m. — 11-year-old boy shot on Lower West Side
Monday, 11 p.m. — 2 children among 4 shot in West Englewood
Monday, 11:35 p.m. — 2 shot in Trumbull Park
Tuesday, 12 a.m. — Boy, 15, critically wounded in Chatham shooting
Tuesday, 12:20 a.m. — Man critically hurt in Woodlawn shooting
Tuesday, 12:40 a.m. — Man shot in Brighton Park
Tuesday, 1 a.m. — Woman grazed by bullet in Loop
Tuesday, 1:35 a.m. — Police: 1 dead, 2 wounded in Humboldt Park shooting
Tuesday, 1:35 a.m. — Woman wounded in West Pullman shooting
Tuesday, 2:15 a.m. — Man shot in West Garfield Park
Tuesday, 2:31 a.m. — Woman shot, seriously wounded in Marquette Park
Tuesday, 2:31 a.m. — 3 shot in East Garfield Park
Tuesday, 2:45 a.m. — Man shot in Avalon Park
Tuesday, 2:55 a.m. — Man shot in Austin
Tuesday, 3:05 a.m. — 2 shot while sitting in vehicle in Austin

*This article is not an invitation to argue for or against gun control, politics, political candidates, religion, police, etc. Please save those arguments for your pages. This is also not the place for inappropriate language. I’ve heard enough “F” words to last a lifetime.

*Sources – Illinois CCW and Firearms Training, Chicago Sun Times, and NRA-ILA Institute for Legislative Action.