I wrote this book in the two and a half years that my father lived with, and then died from, ALS. ALS is a relentless disease; it always ends in death, but that’s not the worst part. On a monthly, then weekly, then seemingly daily basis, my dad lost function. Each step in this graduated decline—not being able to feed himself; not being able to walk; not being able to swallow; not being able to speak; not being able to hold up his own head; finally, not being able to even blink yes or no—signaled a physical loss but also a deeply social one. We have an easy way of measuring biological death; social death, not so much—and we’re wary to face such slow and severe deterioration head-on.
As my father’s illness undid him, there were too many moments of sadness, loss, and despair—but also remarkable moments of gratitude, happiness, and connection. The awareness granted by the impending death of a loved one can affect people in many ways; I found myself recognizing life anew—and increasingly refusing to entertain the fear, anxiety, hastiness, or any other emotion that can rob us of the joy of what we do and what we achieve. Although I could not have known it at the time that I was collecting interviews and observations for what would become this manuscript, this book became my refuge. It provided a space for me to recognize the pleasure of losing oneself in reading and writing; to acknowledge the exuberance of being able to objectify my thoughts and ideas into the written word; and to greet the privilege of contributing to a conversation beyond myself. I am deeply grateful to be able to do this work. My ability to do so is a testament to my father’s perseverance and example in ways I am only now starting to grapple with.
This book would not have been possible without the generosity and goodwill of dozens of police chiefs who agreed to share their perspectives and experiences on gun politics, gun policy, gun violence, and gun law enforcement. Although my pledge to keep participants anonymous precludes me from acknowledging them by name, I am grateful that they took the time to speak with me, and that they shared their insights honestly and frankly. I hope that they (and readers more broadly) find in this book a serious, and sincere, sociological attempt to understand the crucial ways in which police make sense of, and engage with, guns in America.
Many people contributed their own intellectual labor to this book. I want to especially thank Kristin Goss, Nikki Jones, Cal Morrill, and Maria Smith for reading and rethinking this manuscript with me at a book workshop at the University of California, Berkeley. I am also grateful to Jennifer Alexander, Stefano Bloch, Liz Chiarello, Jessica Cobb, Randol Contreras, Phil Goodman, Kimberly Hoang, Neda Maghbouleh, Dan Martinez, Jordanna Matlon, Josh Page, Poulami Roychowdhury, Forrest Stuart, and Laurel Westbrook, who provided pivotal feedback on early versions of chapter drafts. Chessa Rae Johnson rescued many ideas in the manuscript with her attention to lyricism and empiricism (as well as definite articles and helping verbs). In addition, portions of this book were presented at Boston College; Duke University; University of Arizona; University of California, Berkeley; University of California, Irvine; University of California, Riverside; University of Chicago; University of Georgia; University of Massachusetts, Amherst; University of New Mexico; University of Ottawa; University of Rochester; and University of Toronto. The engaged feedback I received at these venues helped me to increase the clarity of the book’s core arguments. Versions of some of the arguments in this book have appeared in the American Journal of Sociology, Social Problems, Gender and Society, and Law and Society Review; I want to thank the editorial staff and reviewers at each of these journals for shepherding my articles through the peer-review process. I also want to thank Madison Armstrong for diligently reading and copyediting an early draft of the manuscript.
The support from Princeton University Press has been incredible and indispensable. From the start of manuscript development, Meagan Levinson provided hands-on guidance, coaching me on narrative voice, theoretical accessibility, and analytical cogency. Her patient attention allowed me to grow as a writer and a thinker, especially as I tried out new approaches to writing. Overall, Meagan, along with the Princeton team she assembled and the anonymous reviewers she arranged, provided vital insights into organizing the book’s core structure, tightening the book’s arguments, and smoothing out the prose. And in particular, Madeleine Adams provided crucial wordsmithing on the final version of the manuscript. I could not ask for a more responsive, more thoughtful, and more compassionate team than Princeton’s.
I am also grateful for the funding that made this book possible. This includes a Connaught Small Faculty Grant from the University of Toronto; a Visiting Assistant Professorship at the University of California, Irvine; and a Social and Behavioral Sciences Research Institute Faculty Small Grant from the University of Arizona. Likewise, I gratefully acknowledge the tireless support of the staff at the University of Arizona’s School of Sociology, without whom this book would have not been possible: thank you Jesse Castillo, Elena Cruz, Vienna DeLuca, Raquel Fareio, Lauren Jacobson, Miguel Larios, and Juliana Reddick.
My unstoppable friends, colleagues, and mentors—many have been all three—have provided me with support, love, and patience during the journey of this book, which necessarily entailed so much more than “just” a book. Thank you for being there at a moment’s notice; for listening and listening and listening—and always without judgment; for melding heart and mind and pushing me to embrace both without reservation; for teaching me how to be a better thinker, a better friend, and a better person; for taking my ideas seriously enough to pull them apart and help put them back together; for reminding me that life is full—tragic and beautiful. Whether I could do this without all of you is beside the point; it simply wouldn’t be worth doing any other way.
Jessica Cobb, Bradley Coffman, Jenn Earl, Kristin Goss, Kimberly Hoang, Chessa Rae Johnson, Sarah Macdonald, Raka Ray, Jaime Tollefson—and especially Nick Danford: thank you for your friendship.
Mom, dad, sister, brother: thank you for teaching me, even after so many years, the value of family.
And Jeremy Cripps: thank you for the power of partnership.
Finally, the University of Arizona, where I work and wrote this book, is sited on the homelands of the Tohono O’odham Nation and the Pascua Yaqui tribe. I acknowledge the historical and present-day social, political, and economic relations that have made possible the circumstances of today’s United States. This includes the genocide of Native peoples and the appropriation of their land; the enslavement of African peoples and the exploitation of their labor; as well as the ongoing relations of racial and economic domination undergirded by white supremacy.