We Found a Loaded Gun at a Soccer Game — My Son Did the Right Thing, But That Shouldn't Be the Last Line of Defense

In spring 2024 my eight-year-old son and his nine-year-old cousin were playing on the edge of a community ball field when they discovered a discarded handgun beneath a nearby bridge. We had gone to watch my youngest niece play soccer; my brother was coaching and several family members were there. From a distance the scene looked ordinary — dozens of elementary-aged children and families spread across a grassy strip beside the Potomac River and a wooded trail.

While I watched the game, the boys grew restless and asked to explore the concrete supports under the bridge. My first instinct was to say no, but I hesitated and let them play within sight. Less than ten minutes later my son ran to me, breathless: 'Mom! Mom, you have to see this!' He held out his hands. 'We found a gun!'

It lay damp in the dirt, as if someone had tossed it over the railing. At first, I tried to convince myself it was a toy. When police arrived and an officer lifted the weapon, a round slipped from the gun onto the ground. It was loaded. I felt sick.

As we walked away that night the children sang a school-taught jingle they had learned about gun safety:

'Stop, Don't Touch, Run Away, Call a Grown-Up!'

They giggled, innocent and unconcerned. It will probably be years before they understand how close they came to real danger.

Aftermath and my reaction

Neighbors and other parents praised my child for doing the right thing; I got messages calling him 'smart' and 'responsible.' I appreciated that my son was safe, but I felt no comfort. Instead I felt increasingly helpless — not because of my child's behavior, but because of the fact that a loaded gun had been where children play.

That evening crystallized something I had known intellectually: parents in the United States are often expected to teach children to protect themselves from hazards that could — and should — be prevented by policy and responsible storage. Standing between my child and a loaded weapon, I felt how unrealistic and dangerous it is to make a child's impulse control the final barrier against a fatal outcome.

What the research says

Gun-safety education matters and can reduce immediate risk, but it is not a cure-all. Programs generally fall into two categories: knowledge-based lessons that use videos or printed materials, and skills-based programs that give children practice refusing to touch a firearm and seeking an adult. Evidence suggests skills-based instruction works better than information-only approaches, but even the most effective programs show limited long-term retention — children often fail to apply lessons weeks later.

This mirrors other high-risk behaviors: lessons about drugs, alcohol, sexual health, driving and online safety frequently do not guarantee safe choices 'in the moment.' Education is essential, but it is only one part of a broader prevention strategy.

Policy matters

Experts consistently recommend reducing children's access to firearms as the most reliable way to protect them. Since 2020, firearms have been the leading cause of death for U.S. children ages 1–19. An estimated 4.6 million children in the U.S. live in homes with an unlocked and loaded firearm, and only about half of states have secure-storage laws that require safe storage to prevent child access.

Had secure-storage practices or stronger access restrictions been in place, that gun likely never would have ended up under the bridge. Teaching kids how to respond is necessary, but it should not be treated as a substitute for policies that keep guns out of reach.

What I want readers to know

I am proud of my son for doing exactly what he had been taught. But I don't want a young child's decision-making and impulse control to be the only thing standing between him and a loaded firearm. Meaningful change will require policy that reduces access and enforces secure storage, paired with broader education and community efforts.

Author note: Amber Groomes, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist and mother who works in private practice and writes about mental health and parenting.