For “Wounded in America,” an exhibit opening this weekend at the Peace Museum, photographer Robert Drea traveled around the country taking photographs of victims of gun violence. Writer Stephanie Arena collected their accounts of being shot. Here are some stories they found in Chicago.
Shot March 5, 1999, at the Eisenhower Expressway and Morgan
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It was a semiautomatic. It had those dumdum bullets in it–they’re made to maim, to do more damage, and upon impact they explode. When he shot me, I put my hand up and it hit me in the hand. Because it was a semiautomatic weapon several bullets flew even though he may have squeezed the trigger only once. I had a coat on, and I had entrance and exit holes in my coat–at my chest–but only my hand was hit. My hand fell in my lap, and I looked down at it and there were two giant gaping holes in the palm of my hand. As he was walking away he said, “You better get that looked at.” I don’t know why he pulled the trigger. I had given him everything.
I was bleeding. I took my hat off and I put my hand in it. I got up to the intercom of my building and started ringing bells. I couldn’t really read the names. One of my neighbors walked up and helped me. The ambulance came. There was a long delay before they took me to Cook County Hospital. Being at County was almost as bad as being shot. Someone on my ward was screaming constantly. A resident suggested I leave County and go to Northwestern, which had a great hand surgeon. We walked out of County. We decided the best option was to amputate my little finger and save my palm.
Shot July 3, 2000, at LaCrosse and 45th streets
All my friends were surrounding the ambulance, so they moved me about three blocks over and we sat there for about 15 minutes. They were asking stupid questions–have you been drinking, have you been smoking, you have any insurance, what’s your name, what’s your date of birth–when they should have been trying to roll. The X-rays showed the bullet was right next to my spine, it had not engaged. They said they were going to take me to Northwestern Memorial Hospital, where they were going to do an operation on my back to remove the bullet. But then the next morning the bullet had engaged with my spinal cord.
Photographed at the scene
