[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 59 (Thursday, March 30, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S4882-S4883]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                        HONORING JEREMY BULLOCK

  Mr. BAUCUS. Mr. President, I would like to welcome some special 
friends to Washington today. They are Penny Copps of Butte, and Penny's 
son, Steve Bullock, late of Montana and now living here in Washington, 
DC.
  Just about a year ago, the entire Bullock family weathered about the 
worst blow any family can take.
  Eleven-year-old Jeremy Bullock--the grandson of Penny and her husband 
Jack; Steve's nephew; the son of Bill and Robin; Joshua's twin; the 
elder brother of Sam, Max and now Kaitlyn--was shot and killed, on the 
playground at the Margaret Leary Elementary School, by an emotionally 
troubled fourth grader.
  The family and the whole Butte community, has been through a terrible 
test. The loss can never be repaired. But they are working together to 
use this tragedy to make our State of Montana, and all of America more 
sensitive to and aware of the violence that has hurt so many of our 
youth. They have a spent a year teaching, learning, and doing their 
best to make sure no other family suffers such a loss.
  It is now my great privilege to read to you a statement written by 
the Bullock family in memory of their son, Jeremy.

     There is nothing more infectious than a child's laugh.
     Nothing more disarming than the innocence of a child's 
           question.
     What fills the void when our children's voices can no longer 
           be heard?

  On April 12, 1994, Jeremy and Joshua, eleven-year-old-identical 
twins, woke, dressed, had breakfast and left for school that day, the 
same as any other day. It was library day, so Jeremy's backpack was 
heavy with books he had read and was returning.
  Weeks later, a police officer worked up the courage to give Jeremy's 
family that backpack. He had tried to scrub the blood from the canvas, 
trying to ease the pain in the only way he knew how. For on April 12, 
1994, eleven-year-old Jeremy was shot and killed at his school by a 
child whose only explanation was ``No one loves me.''
  Jeremy Michael Seidlitz Bullock lived in a home in Montana where 
violence was not condoned. He was not allowed to watch violence on 
television or play games glamorizing violence. Instead, he was active 
in sports. Jeremy loved to sing. He listed his hobby as getting good 
grades. School was his second home, a place where children laughed and 
learned.
  Jeremy wanted to become a teacher or an environmental engineer. 
Jeremy and his brother Josh would spend hours on hikes, coming home 
with their pockets overflowing with garbage they picked up along the 
way. Jeremy believed that leaving places he visited better than the way 
he found them was a good way to live.
  Jeremy loved and was deeply loved. Yet, he was not safe because 
collectively we allowed Jeremy's voice to be silenced.
  Every day in America the voices of 10 of our children are silenced by 
violent acts. Over three million of our children ages 3 to 17 are 
exposed to parental violence every year. Our children will witness over 
200,000 acts of violence on television by the time they turn 18. A new 
handgun is manufactured every 20 seconds in America. And many of them 
wind up in the wrong hands.
  We passively listen and accept the statistics, but do we listen for 
the voices lost?
  On behalf of Jeremy's family and children everywhere, we will 
designate April 12 as a day of remembrance of 
[[Page S4883]] Jeremy and dedicate ourselves to creating a safe world 
for all of our children.
  We dedicate ourselves to taking that walk with Jeremy, and accepting 
his simple challenge: Are we leaving this place that we visit better 
than the way we found it?
  Our children need not lose their voices while we stand by, 
overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problem.
  There is much we can do. We can tell the media we will not be 
consumers of glorified violence. We can direct our children toward 
nonviolent entertainment and help them find acceptable ways to express 
anger and resolve conflict. we can extend the boundaries of our 
families to include caring about and caring for the children of our 
community.
  And when we become discouraged, we must rededicate ourselves by 
straining our ears, to hear the empty void left behind. Listen for the 
voice of eleven-year-old Jeremy Bullock, and listen for the voices of 
others that have been silenced. For the pain in remembering is little 
compared to the pain in realizing that others may soon forget.
  Mr. President, April 12 is the first anniversary of this tragedy. And 
on that day, the Bullocks will join the Margaret Leary School and the 
whole Butte family in dedicating a soccer field to the memory of Jeremy 
Bullock.
  Every so often, people in Washington--and, I suppose, people 
anywhere--lose sight of what really counts. We get wrapped up in policy 
arguments, debates over bills and so on. People like the Bullocks can 
remind us of what is truly important--our families, our communities, 
our children.
  I hope all of us--here on the floor, up in the galleries, watching on 
C-SPAN--will listen to this courageous family.
  Mr. President, I yield the floor.
  

                          ____________________