John,

Fifty-six years ago today, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. I was only seven years old at the time, but I remember the aftermath like it was yesterday.

On April 5th – the morning after the assassination – the country held its breath. The face of the Movement and the drumbeat of our march was murdered. Americans were afraid — for their own safety and for the direction of our Nation — as we entered yet another crossroads for our future.

That’s when I noticed the tall man in a uniform and helmet outside my house. He was a National Guardsman who had been sent to protect our home. My father was the president of the local NAACP chapter – and as a result, our family was assumed to be in danger.

Our phone didn’t stop ringing that whole day. The television recounted how a sniper had shot Dr. King at the Lorraine Hotel in Memphis the day prior. I still can picture the tears in my mother’s eyes and the weight of sadness they carried.

Seven-year-old me knew who Dr. King was, and I grasped that something had gone terribly wrong. But it wasn’t until I was much older that I fully understood the sense of betrayal that Americans felt that day.

I grew up in the heart of the Civil Rights Movement, and Dr. King’s assassination was a formative memory from my childhood. My parents taught me from a young age to stand up for what was right, and Dr. King’s murder only compelled our resolve to continue the march he began.

That’s why when my son Jordan was shot and killed, I couldn’t sit back and accept the rampant gun violence across America. I knew I had to do whatever I could to change the status quo – which set me on a journey that eventually led to the halls of Congress.

John, I hope I can carry out the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in my role as Congresswoman. His lessons ring just as true today as they did sixty years ago.

Thanks for standing with me,

Lucy McBath