Coincidentally, Jeremy Jones called the next day wanting his guns back.
When state senator Sue Shink chaired the county board of commissioners, the sheriff ’s office warned that a person making “veiled threats” against board members had guns. With no red-flag law, all she could do was buy a bulletproof vest. | Photo: Mark Bialek
On January 7, AAPD officers responding to a call from the Hilton on Victors Way had found Jones “suffering from mental health issues.” They took him to U-M Psychiatric Emergency Services for stabilization, and took his two legally registered handguns for safekeeping.
When Jones called weeks later hoping to reclaim them, the department checked and found that Van Buren police had taken another, unregistered handgun from him during another mental health incident just a few days earlier. They also reached Jones’ daughter, who provided video she shot secretly when she lived with Jones late last year. According to police reports, it shows Jones kicking in her bedroom door, waving around his gun with his finger on the trigger, and holding the gun to his own temple. She also told them she believed he was binging on methamphetamines.
On Feb. 21, the police filed the county’s first petition for an ERPO. It would require Jones to surrender any other weapons he had, prevent him from reobtaining the seized weapons, and stop him from legally buying any other weapons. Judge Patrick Conlin approved it.
The so-called “red flag law” was part of a package of gun reforms passed by the legislature last year that also include safe storage requirements for firearms in homes with children as well as criminal background checks and registration for all gun buyers (the previous law applied only to handguns).
ERPO allows a law enforcement member, relative, current or former partner, mental health professional, or coparent to file a complaint in county courts. If a judge concludes that the person can “reasonably be expected within the near future to intentionally or unintentionally seriously physically injure himself, herself or another individual by possessing a firearm,” the court may order the person’s weapons seized immediately or allow a twenty-four-hour window for voluntary relinquishment. The order lasts for a year, but the person could petition to end it after three months.
Enforcement depends on local police agencies, however—and Bridge Michigan reports that fifty-three of the state’s eighty-three counties have declared themselves “Second Amendment sanctuary counties” that won’t enforce gun restrictions they view as unconstitutional. Sheriff Mike Murphy in neighboring Livingston County has been outspoken about his refusal to implement gun-seizure orders, notes Michigan Association of Chiefs of Police executive director Robert Stevenson. Michigan attorney general Dana Nessel has acknowledged that she can’t force local police departments to enforce ERPO orders, but says that if they won’t, she may deploy Michigan State Police.
Conservative judges may also be reluctant to issue the orders, but the law allows people to request an ERPO in any county. “We’re a little concerned that there might end up being a reputation of some judge in Ann Arbor who would just issue the orders whereas other judges may be very stringent,” Stevenson says. “Unfortunately, we’re just going to have to see what happens because we don’t know yet.”
So far, the law has not produced such a standoff. Bridge Michigan estimates about forty ERPOs have been issued across the state. As of early April, two have been approved in Washtenaw County (including the one for Jones), and one was rejected.
The other approval also involved a request to recover a weapon. Less infor- mation is available on it because there is an ongoing criminal investigation, but the U-M police detective assigned to the case says that it also involves a subject whose gun was seized during a mental health crisis.
In the third case, a man asked the court to order the seizure of his wife’s .45- caliber Glock because “she has continually verbally assaulted me with threats of taking my child away from me,” accord- ing to his handwritten court filing. But he acknowledged that she “does not have a history of use, attempted use, or threatened use of firearm” or any symptoms of mental illness or illegal drug use, and judge Carol Kuhnke denied the request.
Supporters say that shows the act is working as intended. The measure, which passed on a strict party line with only Democratic votes, envisioned judges as a backstop against petty abuses while giving law enforcement a tool to keep weapons from people who are dangerous to themselves and others.
Ann Arbor area state senator Sue Shink is glad they have it. She recalls a situation when she chaired the Washtenaw County Board of Commissioners in which someone was making “veiled threats” against her and other board members. She said the sheriff’s office told her they were beefing up security because the man legally owned guns, but that was as far as they could go.
“I went out and bought a bulletproof vest because the sheriff, even though this person was making threats, wasn’t able to do anything because we didn’t have a red flag law,” Shink says. “They were able to put a lot of armed deputies in the room with us, but if that person had moved like they were going to pull a gun out of their clothing, I don’t know what would have happened.”
Shink, who cosponsored the ERPO bill, is alarmed that “some sheriffs think they can decide which laws they are going to enforce and which laws they aren’t. It’s meant to protect people. It doesn’t take guns away permanently from people. It just takes guns away for a time so that people can get the help they need and not be a threat.”
