The horror of a local mass shooting prompts ruminations on helplessness and vulnerability
By Rosanna Armendariz
On Saturday, August 3, 2019 my city El Paso, Texas experiences a horrific mass shooting that claims the lives of 22 people. My family is fortunate enough not to be at the Walmart or adjacent shopping mall where the attack occurs. So, on August 3, like many other spectators, I watch helplessly as the aftermath unfolds on every news network. However, unlike many others, I am an autistic adult with a child on the severe end of the autism spectrum and for both these reasons my thought process might differ from most.
I watch people who manage to escape the shooter exit Cielo Vista Mall in a line with their hands up and I think about the hyper-vulnerability of those with autism. I wonder if my son would be able to exit in such a manner. If we were in a mall with a shooter on the opposite end and a 60-second window for escape, would my son be able to leave the building, get into line and walk across the parking lot with hands held above his head signaling to police that he is not armed?
My son is only 10 but what if we find ourselves in this situation a few years from now? What happens if instead of walking in line with his hands above his head my son runs from the building screaming and flapping his arms? How does law enforcement react? Do they mistake him for the shooter? If my son and I are separated will law enforcement recognize that he has autism and provide him with extra assistance? If unattended will my son run from the scene and into traffic? What happens if an officer asks his name or some other routine question and instead of answering he begins loudly reciting from memory an entire episode of Blue’s Clues? On the scene of a mass shouting with adrenaline running high will harmless echolalia be seen as threatening? How does law enforcement react?
Recently I have heard some discussion of police training to improve interactions with autistics, but I haven’t heard anything about how this training would play out on the scene of a mass shouting. So I sit glued to my television screen watching those lucky enough to escape a senseless death walk in a straight line to safety with their hands held high above their hands, and I can’t shake the dark creeping fear that in this situation my son with autism might escape the shooter only to be shot dead by the police.
Rosanna Armendariz is a stay-at-home homeschooling mom. She lives with her family in El Paso, Texas.
