Opinion |

As political divides deepen, so do family fissures

Remember James and Jennifer Crumbley?

They are the Michigan couple who bought a handgun for their son, Ethan, as a Christmas gift last year. He allegedly used the gun to kill four of his high school classmates.

The Crumbleys have been charged with four counts of involuntary manslaughter in the case. They appeared in court for a preliminary hearing last month. The prosecutor believes that the couple failed to takes steps to prevent the shooting, despite knowing that Ethan posed a danger to others.

On the morning of the shooting, the Crumbleys were urgently called to the school after one of Ethan’s teachers found an alarming note Ethan had drawn. Along with graphic images, it had the words “Blood everywhere” and “The thoughts won’t stop. Help me.”

The Crumbleys decided Ethan should stay in school that day.

Just the day before, the teenager was caught by a teacher looking at ammunition on his phone. When his mother was told, she texted Ethan, cautioning him not to get caught.

I must admit: Despite my decades of work as a mediator, I couldn’t find two sides to this story. The Crumbleys deserve to be held accountable for their part in this unspeakable tragedy.

Turns out, the couple have some company in the pantheon of bad parents.

Meet Guy and Nicole Reffitt.

Guy Reffitt took part in the Jan. 6, 2021 attack on the U.S. Capitol. A member of the Texas Three Percenters militia, Reffitt traveled to Washington, D.C., with weapons in tow. He attended the “Stop the Steal” rally in front of the White House before marching with the crowd to the Capitol building. There, Reffitt charged at police officers with force; they used projectiles and pepper spray to hold him back.

Reffitt celebrated the violence of the day with his family, including son Jackson, who accused him of having broken the law. The father and son disagreed on matters of politics — and in particular, the outcome of the 2020 presidential election.

Just a few days later — realizing that the FBI might in fact be on to him — the elder Reffitt threatened his son and daughter, Peyton. He told his kids they would be treated as traitors if they turned him in, “and traitors get shot.”

But Jackson Reffitt had contacted the FBI prior to Jan. 6, concerned about the schemes his father was hatching to try to overturn the election. He finally met with the FBI on the day his life was threatened. Guy Reffitt was arrested within a week.

Father and son faced each other in federal district court earlier this month. Jackson’s emotional testimony led to swift deliberations: After only three hours, the jury found Guy Reffitt guilty of all five charges related to the Capitol attack.

Outside the courthouse, Jackson’s mother, Nicole Reffitt, denounced the verdict, saying that it was “against all American people.” She urged other Jan. 6 defendants not to take plea deals, claiming that her husband was being used to intimidate them.

At least she told Jackson “I love you” in the courtroom.

But the Reffitts’ story goes beyond bad parenting, which has been around for a long time. The trial has also shown how fissures dividing ordinary Americans have cracked wide open, even pitting family members against one another. Our new level of discord makes the dinner-table disagreements we all remember seem rather quaint.

A willingness to resort to violence — and even turn against your own children — is symptomatic of a new extremism in America. In her new book, “How Civil Wars Start and How to Stop Them,” UC San Diego professor Barbara F. Walter says that extremists today subscribe to an apocalyptic belief: that modern society is irredeemable, and its end must be hastened so that a new order can begin.

Adherents believe that they are not making enough progress through regular means, so they must turn to violence to precipitate change, Walter writes. Any excuse to incite conflict will do, from COVID lockdowns to protests for racial justice. The hope is that it will set off a chain reaction of violence that stirs moderate citizens to become disillusioned and join their cause.

It’s a terrifying prospect for the future of our democracy. But it’s not inevitable, Walters believes: Our shared history and ideals can inspire and guide us, reviving our national pride in a system that is truly of the people, by the people and for the people. If we believe this is worthwhile, the place to start is in our families.

Dinkin is president of the National Conflict Resolution Center, a San Diego-based group working to create solutions to challenging issues, including intolerance and incivility. To learn about NCRC’s programming, visit ncrconline.com.