By Jonathan Allen and Joseph Ax
Aug 11 (Reuters) - A boy accidentally killed by his father during a fishing trip in Montana. A woman dead and her husband behind bars after a single gunshot in a Dallas hotel room. A teenager cut down on his porch on a warm day in Washington state.
During the week bookended by mass shootings in Gilroy, California; El Paso, Texas; and Dayton, Ohio, in which gunmen killed 34 people, hundreds of others were shot to death across 47 U.S. states, according to the Gun Violence Archive, a nonprofit group that uses local news and police reports to track gun incidents.
The deaths were the sort of everyday murders, suicides and accidents that may not grab the headlines of mass shootings, but in many ways show the true toll of the gun violence endemic to the United States.
More than 36,000 people are shot to death every year on average in America, according to U.S. government data compiled by the gun-control advocacy group Everytown for Gun Safety. That works out to about 100 a day, or one every 14-1/2 minutes. Suicides account for more than 60 percent of those deaths. Slightly more than a third are homicides.
Here are some of the victims of deadly shootings during the week between the attack in Gilroy and the attack in Dayton:
SUNDAY, JULY 28
Soon after a gunman opened fire at the Gilroy Garlic Festival, Steven Parsons was sitting in a parked car with two other people 1,500 miles away in an alley in Kansas City, Missouri.
The 27-year-old died there along with another man, Montae Robinson, shot by a gunman who is still at large, police said. The third person in the car is being sought by police for questioning but is not a suspect.
"I have a wedding dress in my closet that I will never wear," Marissa Tantillo said during Parsons' funeral service on Wednesday evening at a chapel in Blue Springs, near Kansas City.
They had two daughters together and planned to marry in a few months. She urged mourners never to take their loved ones for granted. "All I want you to do is hold your husband a little closer, hold your wife a little tighter," she said.
Tantillo recalled a romance that began when she and Parsons were barely teenagers.
"So many of us don't believe in love anymore," Tantillo told the gathering. "In Steven I knew I found my soul mate."
Parsons had a sense of adventure as a boy, his father, Steve Parsons, said at the service. "We'd be cruising along in the old white van and he'd say, 'What's that way?' and so we'd turn and go that way," Parsons said.
People should remember the years his son lived, not the day he died, he said. "Do not let the last day destroy all the good days you had with him."
MONDAY, JULY 29
Guests at the Hotel ZaZa in Dallas heard a commotion and screams from the room where Jacqueline Rose Parguian and her husband, Peter Nicholas, were staying on Monday night.
When hotel security staff knocked on the door, no one answered. Paramedics, responding to a 911 call about a woman loudly in distress and a report of a possible drug overdose, listened to the commotion outside as they waited for police to arrive, per department rules. A noisy hour passed. A gunshot rang out. The arguing stopped. Parguian was dead.
"Jackie had a passion for beauty," an obituary published by Parguian's family said. She pursued a degree in cosmetology and graduated from a Dallas beauty school in 2016.
She loved '90s pop music, especially the boy band NSYNC, and collected concert tickets in a box of memories. One of six children, she was known for checking in frequently with her younger siblings.
She was 32. Her sons are 2 and 8.
"How do we explain to those little angels that their parents are both not going to be there anymore, ya know?" Parguian's mother said in an interview. Friends and relatives had soon pledged more than $25,000 in donations to a GoFundMe fundraiser in support of the boys' uncertain future.
When their father, known to some Dallas music fans as DJ Pete Mash, opened the hotel room door on Monday night to police, he had blood on him and an extension cord wrapped around his neck, according to the Dallas Police Department.
Police said he seemed high on drugs and that they had to subdue him with a stun gun after he began screaming and fighting. They found a handgun in a backpack in the room near Parguian's body.
Explaining the delayed response, police later said officers were responding to higher-priority calls that night before reports of a gunshot came through.
Nicholas, 30, was arrested and charged with his wife's murder. He was later released on a $250,000 bond. An attorney for Nicholas did not respond to a request for comment.
"Peter is a nice young man," Parguian's mother, Tess Parguian, told a local ABC television affiliate. "He's very polite, and that's why I cannot believe he could do such a thing."
TUESDAY, JULY 30
It was a warm day in Tacoma, Washington, and Jamone Pratt was out on a friend's front porch when he was shot in the head. Witnesses told police they saw at least two cars speeding away. Pratt was 16 years old.
Police have made no arrests. Jamone's mother, Kyndal Pierce, has filled her Facebook page with anguished posts, saying she's finding it hard to go on without her eldest son, a "tall and skinny" kid the family called Junior and who was inseparable from his sister.
"He made some bad choices, you know, got involved with the wrong people," Pierce said in an interview with a local news channel. "I don't know what happened, but I know my baby didn't deserve this."
A schoolmate of Jamone's who makes music under the name KiingCalebb recorded a rap tribute to his friend called "MonesWrld." The lyrics include oblique references to gang rivalries.
"Thought you were going to make it to 18," the lyrics went. "All you wanted were your dreams / but now you fly high."
WEDNESDAY, JULY 31
Growing up in the Miami area as a black transgender woman, Kiki Fantroy faced a lot of bullying – but that never altered her natural inclination to trust and forgive other people, her mother said.
Fantroy, 21, was shot several times early in the morning after leaving a house party, becoming the 13th black transgender woman killed in the United States this year, activists say.
The killing prompted several events in her memory, including a "Take Back the Night" event held by a local transgender women's group and a candlelight vigil.
In an interview, Fantroy's mother, Rhonda Comer, switched back and forth between using her daughter's preferred name, Kiki, and her birth name, Marquis, and between masculine and feminine pronouns.
Comer said she supported Fantroy's decision to begin transitioning as a teenager.
Fantroy always had a flair for fashion, Comer said.
"He would make clothes, he would tell me what to wear, what he wanted to wear, and he would always put his twist on things," said Comer, 44. "Kiki could take a shirt and a skirt and make it a whole different outfit; you can't ask me her favorite color because, honey, she wore it all."
Fantroy loved and trusted people implicitly, Comer said, a trait that sometimes worried her – especially after Fantroy was sexually assaulted and "dumped in a tomato field" at age 16 by someone she had met online.
Fantroy had just left a house party with a friend, another transgender woman, and Comer said she was convinced they were deliberately targeted. Police in Miami-Dade County have declined to call the shooting a hate crime.
Police later arrested a 17-year-old boy and charged him with murder after a witness picked him out of a lineup.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 1
Caden Lacunza, 11, had finished cleaning one fish and was just starting on the second one he had caught near Crow Creek Falls in rural Montana when he was shot in the head.
His father, Cadet, dropped the .357 revolver he had just fired, sprinted toward his fallen son and began yelling for his wife.
Hours later, he was under arrest for negligent homicide.
The details of the incident, laid out in a Broadwater County Sheriff's Office report, indicate Cadet Lacunza didn't intend any harm when he shot off a round in the direction of the river.
He had seen his family, including his wife, his son and his daughter, near the campfire, and decided to shoot his pistol, according to the report. While he was retrieving the gun from his pickup truck, however, Caden made his way to the river to clean the fish he had snared.
Lacunza's lawyer, Greg Beebe, said his client was innocent of any criminal wrongdoing.
"This was just a tragic accident, and not a negligent homicide," Beebe said. "At the center of this, we have a family who's been devastated."
Lacunza's wife, Victoria, told Reuters in a Facebook message that the shooting was an accident but declined to comment further.
At the scene, officers retrieved Lacunza's revolver, the cylinder still loaded except for a single spent round. In the river, about 10 feet from where Caden collapsed, they found a cleaned fish; the other fish was on the ground where the boy had dropped it, a small cut in its belly and a knife lying nearby.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 2
Deante Strickland came running out of his grandparents' house in Portland, Oregon, in mid-afternoon, bleeding from the chest.
"I don't want to die," he said, according to a construction worker who was at a site nearby. "My sister shot me."
Strickland, 22, died near his home despite efforts to save his life. His sister, Tamena Strickland, has been charged with his murder, as well as with wounding her grandmother and aunt.
Authorities have not offered a motive for the shooting. Tamena Strickland's defense lawyer, Robert Crow, said it was still too early to know exactly what had happened.
"Everybody is of the belief that this isn't who Tamena is," he said, adding that many family members attended her initial court appearance on Monday in support of both her and her brother. Tamena Strickland has not entered a plea and remains in custody in the Multnomah County Detention Center.
Crow said neither sibling had a criminal record, and there was no outward sign of any dispute between them.
"That's part of what makes it such a mystery to people," he said.
Strickland was a standout basketball and football player in high school. He spent two years at a junior college in Wyoming before transferring to his hometown school Portland State University, where he played on the basketball team.
He was entering graduate school at PSU in the fall and planned to play for the football team.
Friends and teammates flooded social media with remembrances of "Strick," praising his devotion to Portland, his near-permanent smile and his love for basketball.
In a video he filmed shortly before graduation this year, Strickland said, "My advice to you: Don't take the time for granted. It goes by fast, so try to enjoy every moment."
SATURDAY, AUGUST 3
It was a cheerful summer Saturday afternoon in Denise Wimberly's house in Chicago's Englewood neighborhood.
As music filled her home, the 61-year-old mother of four relaxed on her couch with her niece as her son Calvin Seay got ready for an afternoon basketball game.
"He came back in the house to lay his clothes out because he was a neat freak," she said. "Then he left to go down the street to show the neighbors the phone he just got."
Moments after the 23-year-old left, police officers responded to an alert from the department's gunshot-detection system.
They found Seay, a father of one, lying on the sidewalk steps from his home. He had been shot once in the head and once in the chest.
"My other son ran down the street, saying Calvin got shot," Wimberly said. She jumped up and threw down her cigarette. "I almost set my couch on fire."
"He was my baby," she said. "They need to stop the shooting, because they are shooting people that they don't need to be." No suspects have been arrested.
Seay's slaying was part of a bloody weekend in Chicago in which seven people were killed and at least 45 others were wounded, including a 5-year-old boy.
"What will it take for people to become sick and tired at the level of gun violence in this country?" Chicago Superintendent of Police Eddie Johnson asked at a news conference.
Seay, whose daughter turned 6 last week, loved to draw and play basketball and had just gotten a job with the Chicago Park District, where he was working with children at a summer camp.
"He was no person to go hang out on the street. He wasn't like that at all," Wimberly said. "He said that since he got the job, he was going to send me on vacation. That's how he was."
Less than 12 hours after Seay's death, a gunman opened fire on the street in downtown Dayton, killing nine people.
Another week of gun violence in America was drawing to an end. (Additional reporting and writing by Kevin Murphy in Kansas City, Zachary Fagenson in Miami and Brendan O'Brien in Chicago; Editing by Paul Thomasch and Kari Howard)