HON. GEORGE MILLER
Mr. GEORGE MILLER of California. Mr. Speaker, I rise today to commend my colleagues to read the following article, titled "East Bay Profile: Veteran of Richmond's neighborhood wars changes life," posted in the West County Times on May 21, 2013.
I’ve had the opportunity to meet this extraordinary young man, Eric Welch, a number of times, both here in Washington and in my district in Richmond, California, during visits with the City of Richmond’s Office of Neighborhood Safety’s Peacekeeper Fellowship program, of which Eric is a member.
Eric’s only 24 years old but has had a long history of involvement with gun violence. At 14, he was almost killed in a shooting, and by the time he was 22 he had already been shot on four separate occasions. But now, he is on new path in life now, and that is very encouraging.
I was so proud to read that this fall Eric will start classes at Talahassee Community College in Florida, and that he hopes to later transfer to Florida A&M University. And just as exciting, Eric has been selected as a Summer Policy Fellow for the Campaign for Youth Justice in Washington, D.C. this summer where he will write for the group's blog, brief congressional committees on his experience, and work with grass-roots groups to reduce youth crime.
The Richmond ONS Peacemaker Fellowship exists to save lives- Eric is a living testament to that. It is designed to create a viable space for at-risk individuals ages 16-25 to contribute in a real way to building and sustaining community peace, health and well-being— with the express purpose of eliminating gun violence in Richmond. Time and again I’m blown away by the work these young men do to develop a positive life path forward and mentor other young men in similar situations.
I wish Eric all the best, both in Washington this summer and at school this fall. I hope his successes will serve as inspiration for many more to follow in his steps.
East Bay Profile: Veteran of Richmond's neighborhood wars changes life
By Robert Rogers Contra Costa Times May 21, 2013
RICHMOND -- Eric Welch's mind and heart are on a higher plane, but the street reflexes remain. He'll be in Washington, D.C., this summer, wearing tailored suits and briefing Congress. But for now, Welch still tenses when certain cars round the block. He has good reason. He was shot four times before his 22nd birthday. "At first, getting shot was a source of anger," Welch said. "Now I look back at it differently. I wonder why I got so lucky in a place where people like me get killed all the time."
Welch, now 24 but with the weary face and measured speech of an older man, has gone from self-described "goon" and survivor of multiple episodes of gun violence to celebrated member of the Office of Neighborhood Safety's fellowship program. The program appeals to about 50 violent residents with incentives, including small cash stipends, if they give up gunplay and pick up education and job training.
The program is unique in the region, a city-sponsored department that stems violence through intervention in the lives of violent offenders. For his efforts, Welch earned an internship with the Campaign for Youth Justice, a Washington,
D.C.-based nonprofit focused on juvenile justice. Welch will serve as a "policy fellow" from June 10 to Aug. 9, writing for the group's blog, briefing congressional committees on his experience and working with grass-roots groups to reduce youth crime. It's a far cry from Welch's teen and early adult years, a haze of neighborhood beefs and sporadic gunfire, interrupted by hospital and jail stints. He bounced between a dozen schools, toting guns when most kids still were watching Saturday morning cartoons.
Guns and violence permeated his rugged south Richmond neighborhood. It was only when he enrolled in the Office of Neighborhood Safety program after a 2010 jail stint that he turned away from crime. "Eric is a shining example to other young people in Richmond and beyond that people can change, and in the virtue of hard work," said program director DeVone Boggan.
Cheating death
Welch leans on a black gate in front of a California bungalow home at 26th Street and Virginia Avenue.
"This is the spot where I got shot that first time, almost died, man," Welch says, looking down the street. "I was 14." Welch re-enacts the scene from a decade ago. He was "hanging" with another teen a few blocks from the apartment where he grew up with his mother and sister. One block west, a car glided around the corner. Rifles poked through the windows and spit flames from the barrels, a nanosecond before the crackle of gunfire. "I don't remember the car, just the flame spit out in the night; it was AK-47s," Welch said. Welch and his friend dove to the sidewalk and crawled for cover. "The bullets was whistling by, and ricocheting all over the concrete, too," Welch said.
The pain was an intense heat, Welch remembered. A large-caliber slug struck Welch underneath his left arm, collapsing his lung and breaking his clavicle. Welch's friend was hit in the hip. The car screeched away.
"Lot of blood, out my mouth, out my chest. I thought I was going to die," Welch said. "I couldn't breathe."
Three scars mark his upper torso. One is the entry point near his armpit. One is the spot in his side where doctors plunged a tube to help him breathe. The exit wound is on his back, knotted into a mound of dark scar tissue the size of a golf ball.
Low points
Welch survived, but his innocence didn't. "After that, I was bouncing around schools, just living the neighborhood life," Welch said. "I was angry. I was vengeful." His drive for vengeance intensified after the 2006 killing of Sean
"Shawny Bo" Melson, a pint-size 15-year-old police say was a charismatic, up-and-coming neighborhood leader. To
this day, odes to "Shawny Bo" and old photos are posted on social networking sites. Welch and other friends vowed to
"keep it lit" for Melson, meaning to exact retribution on rival neighborhoods they blamed for his death. Welch was shot three more times, in both ankles, the buttocks and the hip. He declines to get into specifics but admits he has been involved in "shootouts."
"I have a chance at a peaceful life; I just don't want to die or go to jail when I am so close." Welch said that in Richmond's toughest neighborhoods, violent deaths of relatives and friends, shootouts and close calls "hang over everything."
The future
The mere notion of a future is a far cry from where Welch has been. "Eric was on his way to prison or death, for sure," said Sam Vaughn, an Office of Neighborhood Safety neighborhood change agent who has worked closely with Welch. "Where he is now, about to go to college, is a miracle given what he's been through." Welch spends little time in the
old neighborhood, knowing he could lose it all in an instant.
He plans to attend Tallahassee Community College in Florida in the fall, and he hopes to transfer to Florida A&M University. But first, he's on his way to the Capitol. "I am really looking forward to a new start, a place where I can be by myself and focus and not worry about my past catching up with me," Welch said. "I feel alone here, in my neighborhood. My friends are mostly dead or incarcerated".
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