Grief, anger and frustration filled St. John’s Baptist Church on Jan. 15 as residents gathered for a town hall hosted by the Amarillo branch of the NAACP. The forum came after a series of violent incidents involving young people, most notably the New Year’s Day killing of 15-year-old Brynnlee Hampton, who was fatally shot while riding in a vehicle with friends after leaving a party.
Nearly 100 people attended, representing a wide range of perspectives — parents, educators, law enforcement, faith leaders, business owners and longtime residents — all seeking answers to the same question: how does the community stop the cycle of violence affecting its children?
“This has been building for a long time,” said Alphonso Vaughn, president of the Amarillo NAACP. “People have been coming to us with concerns for months. One of the biggest issues is there’s no cohesiveness in this community. If we want change, we have to go to people where they are and start having real conversations.”
Beyond One Incident
While Hampton’s death intensified the urgency of the conversation, speakers repeatedly emphasized that the issue extends far beyond a single tragedy. Patterns of late-night, unsupervised gatherings, access to firearms, mental health challenges, and limited youth resources were all identified as contributing factors.
Melodie Graves voiced a concern shared by many parents in attendance, saying, “But it doesn’t matter if our kids are over here shooting each other up.”
Downtown business owner Keith Grays pointed to a troubling trend connected to event spaces and parties. “75 percent of the latest homicides of our kids are happening at these event centers,” he said, later adding, “Parents need to know where their kids are going.”
Grays also raised concerns about regulatory enforcement, noting that only one Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission enforcement officer is assigned to cover the entire Texas Panhandle. “That’s not a serious public safety structure,” he said.
Law Enforcement Limits and Community Responsibility
Potter County Sheriff Brian Thomas opened the panel by underscoring a reality many residents acknowledged but found difficult to accept: law enforcement alone cannot solve the problem.
“We can’t be everywhere,” Thomas said. “We need people to call us when something is going on. We need families to be engaged. We need the community involved.”
Thomas said the county jail remains overcrowded with serious offenders. “My jail is full,” he said. “And it’s not full of misdemeanors.”
His remarks echoed a recurring theme throughout the evening — accountability begins at home and extends outward into neighborhoods, schools and community institutions.
Interim Amarillo Police Chief Jimmy Johnson addressed both the emotional weight of recent violence and how public perception is shaped. “We are more informed than we’ve ever been, but we’re also more misinformed than we’ve ever been,” Johnson said. “The algorithm feeds people what they already believe, and that can distort how people see what’s actually happening in their community.”
Johnson emphasized that rebuilding trust requires visibility and consistent engagement. “People want to see us,” he said. “They want to know who their officers are, to feel comfortable picking up the phone, to feel like they can approach someone in uniform and be heard.”
At the same time, Johnson stressed that policing has limits. “There’s an epidemic of loneliness going on right now,” he said. “There’s not, it’s not one problem. And the solutions are not going to come from the people around this panel. The solutions are going to come out here from the community.”
Education, Literacy and Trauma
Former Amarillo ISD Superintendent Doug Loomis focused on education as a long-term prevention strategy, particularly literacy and trauma awareness.
“The amount of guns our kids have access to would scare the general public,” Loomis said. “They post them on social media. They take pride in them. They’ve become a status symbol.”
Loomis said many young people carry weapons out of fear rather than intent to harm. “When kids experience trauma over and over, they stop seeking trust — they seek control,” he said.
He connected behavioral issues to academic struggles, especially early literacy. “When kids can’t read, frustration builds. When frustration builds, behavior follows,” Loomis said. “If we want different outcomes, we have to ensure kids are reading on grade level early.”
Another attendee pressed school leaders on emotional development, asking, “I would like to know what the school district have in mind with not just literacy but emotional regulation.”
Loomis acknowledged the concern and emphasized that education must address both academic and emotional needs if schools are to play a meaningful role in prevention.
Systems Failing Early
Judge Thomas Jones described the issues raised at the forum as evidence of deeper systemic failures that begin long before young people encounter the justice system.
“Some of our systems are failing our kids,” Jones said. “And by the time they reach the courts, we’re often dealing with the consequences of years of neglect, instability and lack of support.”
He said many children arrive in court already burdened by trauma and unmet needs. “You can’t expect positive outcomes when those foundations are missing,” he said.
Jones emphasized that prevention must start earlier, through investment in families, education and mental health services. “If we’re serious about prevention, the work has to start far earlier than the courtroom,” he said.
Neighborhood Conditions and Longstanding Neglect
Several speakers pointed to environmental factors contributing to instability, including abandoned properties and lack of investment.
Fire Chief Jason Mays said vacant structures attract dangerous activity. “These vacant structures attract people seeking shelter, but they also become sites for dangerous behavior,” he said.
Lifelong North Heights resident Barbara Clayton described a neighborhood shaped by decades of disinvestment. “I remember when this was a very nice neighborhood, where we could walk everywhere we needed to go,” she said. “That’s not the reality anymore.”
Clayton criticized past school policies that removed neighborhood schools. “There’s no reason children who live two blocks from a school should have to get on a bus and go to the other side of town,” she said.
She also raised concerns about public safety visibility. “We don’t see patrols like other parts of town,” Clayton said. “When people don’t feel protected, families leave.”
Grief Without Closure
The emotional toll of violence was underscored by Tasha Sims, whose nephew, Jar’Vaurian Penns, was shot and killed in April 2023. Nearly two years later, the case remains unresolved.
“We’ve had to call detectives. We’ve had to chase information. We’ve had to push just to get updates,” Sims said. “Families should not have to investigate their own loved one’s murder while they’re trying to grieve.”
She described the lack of closure as a source of ongoing trauma. “You don’t get to move forward,” Sims said. “You’re stuck.”
Sims urged parents to be more intentional about what their children are exposed to. “Look at your child’s phone,” she said. “Look at what they’re seeing, what they’re normalizing.”
From Conversation to Action
Throughout the evening, residents repeatedly returned to the need for action beyond discussion. Suggestions included opening school gyms for supervised activities, expanding mentorship and after-school programs, increasing parental engagement, improving transparency in unsolved cases, and investing more consistently in neglected neighborhoods.
Community advocate Tremaine Brown cautioned against waiting for institutions alone to act. “Everybody wants the city to fix it. Everybody wants the police to fix it. Everybody wants somebody else to fix it,” Brown said. “But if we don’t take ownership of our own blocks, our own kids, our own spaces, nothing changes.”
Vaughn said the forum was intended to mark the beginning of sustained engagement. “This isn’t about words,” he said. “It’s about action.”
As the microphones were turned off, conversations continued in small groups throughout the room. Residents exchanged phone numbers and ideas, many saying it was the first time in a long while they did not feel alone leaving a community meeting.
“We can’t expect young people to come to us,” Vaughn said. “We have to go to them — the parks, the neighborhoods, the churches — and ask what they want their community to look like five, 10, 15 years from now.”
The challenges outlined during the town hall were complex, interconnected and deeply rooted. But for one evening, at least, the community chose to confront them together — not as a single moment of outrage, but as the start of a longer, more difficult effort to protect its children and rebuild trust, safety and opportunity.
