At Close Range: A Memoir of Tragedy and Advocacy

At Close Range is Leesa Ross' gut-wrenching story of the shooting death of her son, Jon. Jon was a young adult at the time he died, in his 20s. The account Leesa received from Jon's friends who were there when it happened pointed to a horrific accident due to negligence, but the coroner ruled otherwise. In his eyes, it was a self-inflicted gunshot wound not inconsistent with suicide. That verdict was unacceptable to Leesa.

In At Close Range, Leesa paints a portrait of a family that, while not without their challenges, was a close family for the most part. She knew her children well, even if they weren't all under the same roof any longer. And she knew that Jon didn't kill himself intentionally. It wasn't suicide. But how could she convince the coroner to change his ruling? Could she convince him to change it? And how would the process of losing her son change her?

Leesa's writing style is straightforward and easy to read, and she does a good job of bringing the reader into the story. I wanted to reach into the pages and hug her as she struggled with the grief of losing her son while still trying to be a wife and mother. I wanted to tear my hair in frustration as she tried repeatedly to convince a coroner who'd made up his mind that he was interpreting the facts in a way she couldn't abide.

This was not an easy book to read. Like Leesa's family, my family always had guns around when I was growing up. My father was a hunter, and he had several rifles in the house. I learned how to shoot a .22 when I was just a kid, out on the deer lease. Many of my friends had parents who hunted, and it wasn't uncommon when I was in high school to see multiple trucks in the parking lot with deer rifles mounted on racks. Sure, I grew up learning that a gun wasn't a toy, and that I should never point at anything I didn't intend to shoot. But accidents can happen to anyone, as Leesa's words so clearly illustrate.

It was also hard to read how much Leesa wrestled with her own guilt and shame. Wondering could she have missed some clue. Worried what people would think about them when they heard the coroner's verdict. Hard enough to handle the grief of your child's death. How much more painful to have anxiety over what people will think about the way he died, to anguish over what they will now think of you as a parent.

But ultimately, the story is one of inspiration. Leesa let her hurt and anger and sadness move her toward a role as an advocate for gun safety. She uses this book to share what she has learned through her experiences with the rest of us. I hope this book spurs conversations about guns and gun safety for anyone with children, be they young or young adult.