Metal detectors won’t fix a leaking roof in our schools

These new measures, while commendable, are not enough to prevent the next shooting. They are like buckets catching water from a leaking roof — necessary, but not the same as fixing the structural damage above.

As someone who has presided over thousands of cases involving youth in crisis, I can say unequivocally a metal detector cannot read intent. A student with a fractured sense of self-worth, unmanaged rage, or suicidal ideation doesn’t think twice about a sensor at the front door. They often plan for it with deadly precision.

What can stop them? Earlier intervention. Stronger behavioral health systems. And yes, keeping firearms — particularly AR-15s — out of the hands of adolescents and young adults whose brains are still under construction. That last point is where we always hit the political wall because we fail to possess the political will.

Too often, the conversation stops at the Second Amendment, as if it’s a shield that cannot be pierced by common sense. But as a judge, I know that no constitutional right is absolute. Not speech, not assembly and certainly not the right to bear arms. We already set age limits on alcohol, tobacco and voting. Why should the right to own a semiautomatic rifle carry fewer boundaries than buying a six-pack? This is not about confiscation. It’s about responsibility.

The research is clear: Individuals ages 18—20 make up just 4% of the U.S. population but are responsible for 17% of known gun homicides. States that raise the age to 21 for purchasing firearms — especially assault-style weapons — experience reductions in firearm suicides and overall gun violence. Washington state’s policy is one such example.

We do not have to choose between rights and safety. We can do both, if we are willing to approach the issue with maturity and nuance.

In my courtroom, I’ve watched kids unravel not because they are evil, but because they are ignored. School shootings are not spontaneous acts of chaos. They are the tragic final chapters of long-unread stories. That’s why the expanded behavioral health supports in Barrow County schools may prove to be their most important legacy — if they are resourced and sustained.

But if we’re serious about prevention, we cannot stop there. We need universal background checks that include behavioral health assessments for firearm purchases under the age of 21. We need laws that allow temporary restrictions for individuals who pose a danger to themselves or others, laws backed by due process, but grounded in data. We need community-based programs that detect risk factors before they escalate.

And we must resist the temptation to believe that hardening schools with hardware is a substitute for healing communities from within. Metal detectors may catch a weapon on the way in — but they won’t stop a determined young person already in crisis. Detectors may prevent possession, but they are not a meaningful deterrent to intent. Even the U.S. Secret Service warns that metal detectors create a false sense of security and are unlikely to stop targeted school violence. Let’s not be seduced by the illusion of safety.

I say this not as a partisan, but as a public servant who has held the hands of grieving parents, who has read the suicide notes of teens who saw no other way out, who has seen the flashing red lights of warning signs long before they led to headlines.

To my fellow gun owners: I own multiple firearms. I value the responsible use of guns. But I also value life, especially that of our children, more than any single right I possess. The integrity of the Second Amendment does not rest on the unrestricted access of high-powered weapons to emotionally unstable teenagers.

The families of Barrow County have done something powerful: They turned anguish into action. But they shouldn’t have to bear this load alone. Let us honor their courage not with symbolic gestures, but with substantive reform.

Until we stop confusing mitigation with prevention, we will continue to bury our children beneath flags and false hope. We can — and must — do better.

Steven Teske is a retired Clayton County Juvenile Court judge who has authored several published articles on best practices in juvenile justice and testified before Congress and numerous state legislative bodies. He is the author of the nationally acclaimed School-Justice Partnership to reduce school violence.