“If you’re really brave, turn yourself in!”

It’s been over a week since I wrote “And Another One,” a reflection on the devastating and all-too-familiar tragedy of gun violence in our community. That piece was written in the immediate aftermath of the news that an 8-year-old boy had been killed while sleeping in his bed beside his mother in North York.

Today, we are still waiting. Still hurting. Still searching for answers.

The police have urged the public to come forward with any information, but so far, no arrest has been made. The shooter (whoever you are) is still out there. I want to speak directly to you.

Yes, you.

If you are reading this, if someone close to you is reading this, hear me clearly:

The bravest thing you can do now is not run. Not hide. Do not pass blame or disappear into the shadows. The bravest thing you can do is take accountability.

That sounds wild in a world that praises silence, street code, and staying strapped. I know that in the culture of hyper-masculinity and “no snitching,” what I’m asking feels impossible. Real bravery is not in pulling the trigger. Real bravery is in the aftermath, in the consequences, in the confession, in the change.

If you’re really the person some people think you are: a “bad man,” a “gangsta,” someone who commands respect, then do something that would actually earn it. Show this community, show that child’s mother, show yourself, that you are not so far gone that you don’t recognize the value of an innocent life, because I don’t want to believe that about you.

I want to believe you made a horrific mistake, a reckless choice. I want to believe that some part of you is shattered, too. If that’s true; if you are feeling even an ounce of remorse, then step forward.

Not just for justice; for healing.

Now, to my community: I know we are angry. We have every right to be. However, we are also responsible for recognizing that accountability must be paired with compassion. As wild as it sounds, I am asking us not just to seek punishment, but to seek understanding.

We cannot bring that boy back. We cannot undo the damage, but we can ensure that whoever pulled the trigger gets the mental health support, the restorative justice process, and the community intervention that could make the difference between more violence or transformation.

We’ve talked for decades about the root causes of gun violence: poverty, disconnection, lack of opportunity, and intergenerational trauma. So, our response must be holistic if we genuinely believe in healing and community.

We can’t call for accountability without also offering a pathway forward. We can’t shout, “Enough is enough,” and then sit back and wait for the next “another one.”

This moment calls for courage from all of us.

Not just the shooter.

Not just the family.

Not just the police.

But all of us.

The courage to come forward.

The courage to forgive.

The courage to speak the names and face the pain.

The courage to act.

To the readers of this newspaper, if you know something, say something. If you’re scared, reach out anonymously. If you feel helpless, organize. Create space for dialogue. Host healing circles. Uplift our youth. Join the conversation, and if you are the one responsible, know this; there are still people in this world who believe that you are more than your worst mistake, but belief means nothing without action.

So do the bravest thing you’ve ever done; turn yourself in. Let the healing begin, and to all of us, let this be the moment we stop waiting for someone else to save us.

Let’s be the change. Together.