Brother's Keepers reaches out to paralyzed victims of violence

ST. LOUIS -- Terrence Clark remembers what his mother told him as a child. She said when you do something wrong, you end up in one of two places: jail or dead.

But he found another place to end up just for being in the wrong place -- a wheelchair.

A stray bullet during a gunfight pierced the headrest of his car and hit his back as he hung out with friends on an April night 18 years ago. He was 18 and hasn't walked since. No one was ever arrested, police said.

Clark, of Creve Coeur, Mo., is one of three founders of Brother's Keeper, a group of paralyzed men who work with other paralyzed victims of violence.

The group formed in March and united the three men, all who are paralyzed because of bullets and who had been working on their own to help those like them.

Since then, they've reached out to about a dozen victims of violence who suffered spinal cord injuries. They visit hospitalized victims and tell them what to expect and what they need to do. They hold monthly meetings and hope to expand their outreach to include searching for jobs and going to juvenile detention centers.

"When I got injured, I couldn't find anyone in a wheelchair who looked like me," said Dietrich Smith. He was 23 when Terry Bryant shot him six times in 1982. The shooting was retaliation for Smith's testimony against Bryant's brother in a shooting case.

Bryant's brother, a juvenile, had been sentenced to 60 days. Bryant is serving a life sentence.

"We're the unseen casualties of the urban war," said Smith, who lives in Florissant, Mo. Murders garner much of the spotlight in this war. As of last week, 97 people had been killed in St. Louis, according to police, compared to 69 at the same time last year.

Some nights, there are several shootings in St. Louis that don't leave anyone dead. They are the victims the Keepers aim to help.

Stacy Kinstler is lead therapist in the spinal injury unit at St. Louis Rehabilitation Center.

About 15 shooting victims who suffered spinal cord injuries have come to her unit since the beginning of spring, which is more than usual, she said.

And they need someone to talk to, she said, someone who has been through the same thing.

Barbara Burka, a case manager, agreed. "We haven't been in their shoes," she said. "We can't relate as well as they can."

Burka approaches patients she thinks can use the help of the Keepers to see if they're interested in receiving a visit.

Their answer, she said, is always the same: "I've not had any turn them down."