I am deeply concerned about gun violence and feel it’s my civic duty to speak up about it. But exercising my First Amendment right, standing peacefully on a public sidewalk with a handmade sign about the dangers of assault weapons, landed me in jail for three nights. It was a truly horrific experience, and it was wrong. That’s why, with the help of the ACLU of New Mexico, I’m suing the City of Moriarty and Torrance County.
As a 70-year-old former epidemiologist who spent my career studying HIV in New Mexico, I've always believed in the power of data and dialogue to create change. I grew up around guns. I understand that for many people, they're tools, sports equipment, and family traditions. I also understand statistics. I've spent decades analyzing data about public health crises, and gun violence is exactly that – a public health crisis that demands thoughtful conversation, not silence. And while robust data are kept on other health crises to better understand their causes and to develop solutions, gun violence data are insufficient.
I came by myself to the gun show at Moriarty Civic Center that day, because I wanted to respectfully bring my message about gun violence to people who don't usually hear it or have the chance to talk to people like me.
That's why on February 22, 2025, I stood outside the Civic Center with my sign advocating for restrictions on assault-style weapons. I was quiet and took care not to block the door. Several people stopped to speak with me. Most disagreed with my message, but our conversations were respectful. And sometimes productive, I thought.
Then everything changed.
The gun show organizer complained to the police about my presence. Moriarty police officers approached me and demanded I leave. They claimed the gun show had rented not just the building, but the entire surrounding area, including the sidewalk where I stood.
I knew you couldn't rent a public sidewalk and that the city council building was public property. I had every right to be there, exercising my right to peaceful protest. When I refused to leave, they arrested me for trespassing under a city ordinance that, as it turned out, court personnel couldn't even locate later.
What happened next was a nightmare I wouldn't wish on anyone.
I was taken to the Torrance County Detention Facility. I was under the impression that my husband would be able to bail me out the day I was detained. It wasn’t until I was taken to my cell that I was told no one is released on weekends. I ended up there from Saturday through Tuesday with absolutely no idea when I might be released. The uncertainty was the worst part of the whole experience. Time moved very slowly. It was grueling.
During intake, I was subjected to a strip search, despite the fact that there was no reason to suspect I had been hiding jail contraband during my peaceful protest. At 70 years old, I was forced to bend forward, spread my buttocks, and cough while a detention officer watched. The humiliation was overwhelming. But that was just the beginning.
For three days, I was stripped of all control, denied basic medical care, and treated inhumanely. During my detention, staff repeatedly told me they didn't release anyone on weekends and wouldn't give me any information about when I might be freed. They denied me my prescribed medications, including an antidepressant medication. As withdrawal symptoms set in, I became increasingly desperate.
I was kept alone in a cell for most of my detention, allowed into the common area inside when the other people were in their cells just once a day for about thirty minutes each time. The food they provided smelled and looked like vomit. The water had an odd taste, too. I felt completely powerless. The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, trying to start conversations about reducing violence, and I was being subjected to what felt like violence.
Finally, on Tuesday, I cried from uncertainty, frustration, and fear. Instead of showing compassion, a guard threatened to spray mace in my face if I didn't stop. She said it was “their protocol.”
When I was finally released, a Moriarty municipal court judge dismissed the criminal trespass charge against me with prejudice, confirming what I knew all along: there was no legal justification for my arrest.
Here I was, trying to start conversations about reducing violence, and I was being subjected to what felt like violence.
The emotional impact of those three days continues to affect me. I experienced what it feels like to be completely at the mercy of a system that can strip away your freedom without justification and treat you as less than human.
This is why I've decided to stand up for my rights. This isn't just about what happened to me—it's about protecting the fundamental rights that make our democracy possible.
I could have stayed home that day. I could stay home now, rather than pursuing this lawsuit. But I can't. Too much is at stake. This is why I'm speaking out. This is why I'm suing. This is why I won't stay quiet, no matter how much easier it might be.
