When a gunman opened fire in a bowling alley and a bar in Lewiston, Maine, last October, he used an autoloading rifle to fire 54 rounds in less than two minutes. Eighteen were killed and 13 wounded.

Although nearly half of Maine households own a firearm, the state is considered one of the safest in the country.

Maine Public Radio, in partnership with the Portland Press Herald and Frontline PBS, presents “Breakdown:” a limited-series podcast about the deadliest mass shooting in Maine history.

Episode 4 examines the history and politics of guns and hunting in Maine, the state’s unique “yellow flag” gun laws and its powerful gun lobby, which shaped state officials’ response to the Lewiston shooting.

Audio transcript

STEVE MISTLER, HOST: David Trahan was in northern Maine, out of cell range and helping a friend gut a moose when he heard what had happened in Lewiston.

DAVID TRAHAN: Jerry’s his name. He said, ‘There’s been a shooting.’ And I said, ‘What do you mean there’s been a sh–?’ He said, ‘There’s been a mass shooting in Maine.’ Well, I said to him, ‘I need to get home.’ I knew my phone would be ringing. I knew that I needed to get back.

[xylophone music]

HOST: Trahan leads the Sportsman’s Alliance of Maine, or SAM.

We often hear about the power and influence of the National Rifle Association in the debate over guns. But in Maine, gun politics is uniquely local — and SAM has long influenced the state’s approach to gun laws, regardless of whether Democrats or Republicans are in control.

Its power comes from the state’s culture of hunting and fishing and a firm belief here that Mainers know how to handle their firearms.

DAVID TRAHAN: There’s a culture there that supports gun rights. And politically, it translates into how people vote.

HOST: Nearly half of Maine households own a firearm, yet the year before Lewiston, there were fewer than two dozen gun-related homicides.

But after Lewiston, that sense of security was withering.

The calls for gun law reform came swiftly, and Trahan knew changes were coming. Just four years earlier, he had worked with Gov. Janet Mills, a Democrat, to craft a gun law that’s unlike any other in the country.

Lawmakers fashioned the yellow flag law in a way that would not upset Maine gun owners. While it provided police a way to confiscate guns if a judge decided someone was dangerous, the process was neither quick nor simple. It prioritized due process over speed.

And lawmakers here talked about it as a transformative Maine solution to American gun violence.

STATE SEN. MIKE CARPENTER, ARCHIVAL: “I believe with all my heart that this bill will save lives.”

STATE SEN. LISA KEIM, ARCHIVAL: “I think this could become model legislation for the rest of the states.”

[xylophone, horn music fades up]

HOST: Now, after the shootings, the law was under a microscope.

Margaret Groban, a former federal prosecutor with the Maine Gun Safety Coalition, initially thought the law was a decent compromise, but she came to see it as deeply flawed.

MARGARET GROBAN: I realized that it was such a missed opportunity and that the reason why no other state has followed yellow [flag] is because it’s woefully inadequate.

HOST: And despite all those warning signs we heard about in earlier episodes, the law wasn’t used to stop the gunman even though there were concerns that he had been diagnosed with psychosis and was making threats.

Trahan knew this as he tried to get an audience with the governor. And in the coming weeks and months, he and Maine’s political leaders would help shift the focus away from the law’s overall effectiveness and toward the people who failed to use it. He says he also helped shape the governor’s modest response to Lewiston, while preserving SAM’s standing as a dominant power in the Maine gun debate.

In this episode we’re going to trace the rise and influence of a gun rights group that was created by the backlash to a TV news program. We’ll meet a former Philadelphia cop who tried in vain to challenge the gun rights political machine in Maine. And we’ll explain why, even after the worst mass shooting in state history, gun law reform has made notable, but incremental progress. From Maine Public Radio, the Portland Press Herald and FRONTLINE PBS, this is Breakdown, and I’m Steve Mistler.

Episode 4: ‘They Controlled It All’

[piano theme swells]

HOST: Gun education starts at a young age here.

CAMPER 1: Um … I grew up here in Maine. I don’t really have any experience with hunting.

CAMPER 2: I’m from Yarmouth, Maine and I’m just a student.

CAMPER 3: I live in South Carolina and I’ve never held a gun before.

[strings music]

HOST: These kids, ages 10-14, are attending the Bryant Pond 4-H Camp and Learning Center. It’s near the foothills of the White Mountains in western Maine. This camp has been around in some form for more than 50 years. This is where parents from Maine and other states send their kids to get a hands-on education about nature conservation, hunting and gun safety. The camp is run by the University of Maine Cooperative Extension. And instructors from the state Inland Fisheries and Wildlife department are here for the firearms training.

The kids and instructors are assembled beneath a sheltered rifle range with paper targets down range. Instructors Ronald Fournier, Gary Proulx and Brian Nichols have unpacked a series of .22 caliber rifles that the kids will soon shoot, many of them for the first time.

BRIAN NICHOLS: So moving on to a rifle, this is a basic .22 caliber rimfire, bolt-action gun like the guns we’re going to be firing today.

HOST: Brian Nichols goes over a detailed list of instructions. How to hold their gun safely when not shooting, how to determine their dominant eye for aiming and how to operate different types of guns.

BRIAN NICHOLS: If you don’t know what the gun is before somebody hands it to you what do you do? … Ask. Exactly! You say, ‘You know what, I’m not sure how this gun works, can you show me the control?’ And that’s a legitimate question.

HOST: After about 40 minutes of instruction, it’s time for the kids to pair up in teams and start shooting.

BRIAN NICHOLS: The range is hot! The range is hot!

HOST: You can see that one boy is nervous. At one point he huddles on the side with one of the counselors, but he eventually rejoins the other kids on the firing line.

The four kids start slowly, loading a single round and shooting.

BRIAN NICHOLS: Go ahead and fire your second shots. … It’s OK to smile when you shoot.

HOST: The smiles do come and the kids seem more confident. And their shots become more frequent.

And that nervous kid? The nerves are gone by the time he finishes shooting. His reward — a big high-five from instructor Gary Proulx.

GARY PROULX: Just like that. Nice job, man. Killed it.

HOST: Safety supervisor Ronald Fournier has been watching the boy, too.

RONALD FOURNIER: And when he came up here before he even stepped on the range he said, ‘I don’t think I can do this.’ And he said, ‘I’m not sure I’m going to shoot.’ I said, ‘Well, you’re in a safe place, very well supported and we’re going to go through everything again.’ And he was the last one to step off the range.

[strings music]

HOST: As I’m talking to Fournier, I begin to worry how this class — and these kids — might be viewed in the context of a heated debate about guns in the U.S. I grew up around guns and hunting and took a similar class as a kid. So, to me, the shooting instruction seemed wholesome and a way to illustrate how many Mainers view guns as an extension of their self-reliance and independence. To me, it seemed no different than a camp where someone learns how to swim or some other life skill. But as someone who covers politics for a living, I also knew that this class might be viewed by some as some sort of indoctrination exercise.

I don’t mention this to Fournier, but he seemed worried about that, too. He tells me that these courses are not meant to convert kids into future gun owners, or even hunters.

RONALD FOURNIER: I’m a firm believer that every, every, you know — person in this country should have an education on firearms. It’s like sex and drugs, if we don’t educate folks on what could happen then we tend to see negative things happening. And if you educate somebody and you demystify guns, they, they inherently gain a respect and an ethic that, you know, is crucial.

HOST: That was the experience for Sigrid Sibley, a Poland Springs resident in her mid-twenties who was observing the instruction. She’s a former vegetarian who wanted to start eating meat.

SIGRID SIBLEY: And part of that decision was a commitment to getting local meat and trying to source it myself. And so hunting seemed like kind of a natural fit.

HOST: But first Sibley had to overcome her nervousness around guns. She ended up taking a similar class for adults. And like the kids, her discomfort around guns fell away as she learned how to use them.

Now Sibley owns a 20-gauge shotgun that she uses to hunt turkey.

SIGRID SIBLEY: I’d like to try deer this fall now that I’ve had a turkey season under my belt.

[guitar music]

HOST: She has joined a constituency of nearly 200,000 licensed hunters in the state. That constituency is not monolithic. Sibley is part of a growing movement in the state — people who want to source their own food. It’s so big that three years ago voters amended the state constitution to include a food sovereignty provision. For many others, hunting is for sport, for camaraderie. And for some, it’s survival. Poverty in Maine is especially bad in rural areas and hunting puts food on the table.

Guns are the common thread in this tapestry of interests. And that’s precisely what David Trahan’s Sportsman’s Alliance of Maine, or SAM, aims to represent. Gun rights are a pillar of SAM’s advocacy, but its strength on that front arguably comes from its understanding of Maine’s cultural identity and traditions.

To that end, Trahan, a former logger and Republican state legislator, is a convincing spokesperson. Listen to him talk about his first rifle, a .35 Marlin that he bought as a teenager.

DAVID TRAHAN: You could not buy that gun from me. I’ve carried it for — I’m now 61 years old — I’ve carried it my entire adult life hunting. Some of the best memories I have hunting are — contain that rifle. And the same is true of all the other guns that I own.

HOST: Guns that were gifted by friends and loved ones …

DAVID TRAHAN: Those firearms don’t represent violence to me. They’re like a family heirloom that has been passed on to me.

HOST: And this, he says, is the relationship that the gun control side totally misses.

DAVID TRAHAN: When you try to depict all firearms as evil, as killing, as — you’re missing the boat here. A lot of those firearms mean something to people. And when you come to take them, people are going to defend their right to keep them.

HOST: Gun control groups reject the assertion that their goal is to confiscate gun owners’ cherished heirlooms, but Trahan’s message still resonates — and not just with Republicans.

[ambient music fades up]

MATT DUNLAP: The old joke, ‘I mean, how many guns do you own?’ ‘Well, more than I need but not as many as I want,’ you know. And I fall into that category. I’ve got guns I haven’t used in 20 years, but I keep ’em.

HOST: Matt Dunlap is Maine’s former secretary of state, a former state legislator and a sportsman. He once served on SAM’s board, and briefly, as its executive director right before Trahan got the job 13 years ago. He’s also a Democrat.

And this is why Maine’s gun culture has made its politics here so different.

The conventional wisdom is that Democrats have avoided confronting SAM and the gun rights movement because they fear an electoral backlash. And there seems to be some truth in that. But Dunlap is a reminder that many Democrats here also believe in the group’s cause. They view it as a sort of shield against punitive gun control measures pushed by activists who don’t understand guns.

MATT DUNLAP: We’d hear about these mass shootings … and we kind of held our breath because it hadn’t happened here. And now it’s happened here. And it’s, it’s changed the conversation a bit. But the frustration, I think a lot of sportsmen who care about these issues feel is that people who sort of lunge at these proposed solutions really don’t understand the technology they’re talking about.

HOST: Gun owners like Dunlap often argue that gun control activists don’t understand the weapons they want to regulate, or their place in a hunting culture that’s also faced scrutiny.

On September 5th, 1975 at 9:30 p.m., CBS News broadcast a graphic 90-minute documentary about hunting in America called ‘The Guns of Autumn.’ With cameras and tape recorders close up, viewers watched the annual hunting of black bears at a Michigan dump.

[ambient music]

HOST: CBS said the documentary was ‘purely and simply a broadcast about hunting.’ But that’s not how many hunters viewed it. They saw it as an attack on their way of life. The network received thousands of angry phone calls and tens of thousands of letters and postcards flooded the CBS mailroom.

And in Maine, where there have been attempts to ban hunting moose and bear baiting, the hunters organized.

The Sportsman’s Alliance of Maine, or SAM, was born out of the backlash to the documentary. Within a few years, the National Rifle Association was making a hard pivot from its origins as a marksmanship and gun safety organization, to an unbending defender of the Second Amendment.

SAM, meanwhile, has rooted itself more firmly in Maine’s hunting and outdoors traditions, sometimes fighting as hard for land conservation as it does against gun control.

David Trahan is especially proud of the group’s 100-acre education facility just a few miles from the state capitol.

DAVID TRAHAN: We have two ponds for kids’ fishing. We have miles of trails, a shooting range. … We have dedicated areas to trapper education. Yesterday they held an archery ethics course here, literally 3D targeting in the woods with mapping, GPS.

HOST: SAM doesn’t always publicly take the same positions as the NRA. But it has adopted some of the group’s tactics. As Dunlap notes, its candidate endorsements are coveted in the Maine State House.

[xylophone music fades up]

MATT DUNLAP: You know, when you’re a candidate for the Legislature and people don’t know who you are … if you’ve been endorsed for election by the Sportsman’s Alliance of Maine and the National Rifle Association, those sportsmen who do not belong to those organizations will still look at that and say, ‘Hey, that guy’s good on my issue and I’m going to support them because of that.’

HOST: SAM’s influence stems from cultural association, not political donations. Since 2013, its political action committee has only spent a little more than $30,000 on advertising and other materials to influence elections, according to Maine Ethics Commission data. Trahan also says SAM’s power exceeds its roughly 8,000 members. And its reach goes further because of its connection to Maine’s abundant fish and game clubs. More than 50 are part of the group’s coalition.

Trahan says it’s that network of allies that gives his organization influence with policymakers.

DAVID TRAHAN: We’re viewed as probably one of the top, strongest political entities in the state.

HOST: And he’s right.

SAM has notched a series of big political victories.

After a notable increase in gun-related crimes in the late 1980s, there were calls for tougher restrictions on firearms. But it also sparked a counter-reaction from gun rights advocates.

And that’s when SAM got one of its first major wins — with a big assist from a legend in Maine politics.

[xylophone music]

JOHN MARTIN: I can’t tell you how many guns I own. I don’t remember.

HOST: For nearly 20 years, from 1975 to 1994, John Martin was the speaker of the Maine House of Representatives. And during that time he helped set the legislative agenda for the state.

Martin, a renowned parliamentarian who ruled the Maine House with an iron fist, is also a pro-gun Democrat. And in 1986, a state Supreme Court ruling gave him a chance to strengthen Mainers’ gun rights. It confirmed that while the right to bear arms was protected under the Maine Constitution, it wasn’t absolute. The state could still impose some restrictions.

And Martin worried the court could go even further.

JOHN MARTIN: They really didn’t make a decision that was clear cut, but it became clear to me that at some point the Supreme

Court was going to rule against the ability to carry guns in Maine. That was my concern.

HOST: At the time, that section of the constitution read: “Every citizen has a right to keep and bear arms for the common defence; and this right shall never be questioned.”

Martin was concerned about these four words: “for the common defence.”

So in 1987, he drafted a bill that removed them from the state constitution. Former Democratic state Sen. John Tuttle read the revised version during a brief debate in June of 1987.

STATE SEN. JOHN TUTTLE, ARCHIVAL: Every citizen has a right to keep and bear arms and that [sic] right shall never be questioned.

HOST: It sailed through the Legislature and was ratified by Maine voters.

And by the end of the ’80s, SAM would further assert itself during a showdown with a new sheriff in town, or in this case, a new police chief in Maine’s largest city.

HOST, INTERVIEWING: It’s going to sound kinda weird to do this, but if you could just say your name and what you used to do here in Maine.

MICHAEL CHITWOOD: Michael Chitwood, C-H-I-T-W-O-O-D, and from August, I believe, of 1988 until August of 2005 … I was the chief … of police for the Portland Police Department.

[guitar music fades up]

HOST: Michael Chitwood is now 80 years old, retired in Florida and still taking phone calls from reporters. He arrived in Portland as one of the most decorated cops in Philadelphia history. He was brash and charismatic. And he gave great soundbites. The press here dubbed him “Media Mike.”

MICHAEL CHITWOOD, ARCHIVAL: “I use the buzzword purveyors of death, but they’re murderers.”

MICHAEL CHITWOOD, ARCHIVAL: “They’re animals. There’s no other way to describe it.”

MICHAEL CHITWOOD, ARCHIVAL: “He’s a bum, he’s a scumbag, he’s a dirtball, whatever you want to say.”

HOST: Chitwood’s swashbuckling approach to crime fighting made him an instant celebrity, but his quest for gun control quickly put him at odds with pro gun House Speaker John Martin, the Sportsman’s Alliance of Maine and the NRA.

MICHAEL CHITWOOD: I soon learned that they were in fact as powerful as they are and they controlled it all.

HOST: The stage was set for conflict as soon as Chitwood walked into his new office and noticed a foot high stack of folders on his desk.

MICHAEL CHITWOOD: In fact, when I looked at the pile, I said, ‘What the fuck is this?’

HOST: He says his secretary explained that they were concealed weapons permits for him to sign.

MICHAEL CHITWOOD: I started to look through it and then I noticed that there was no background check, no check at anything else, and they wanted me to sign it.

HOST: Back in Philly, you didn’t get a permit to carry a hidden gun without a background check. But things were different in Maine.

MICHAEL CHITWOOD: There’s no check. No check to see if they’re mentally ill, to check to see if they’re domestic violence abusers. Nothing.

[strings and piano music]

HOST: Chitwood refused to sign the permits.

The conflict with gun rights groups intensified when Chitwood continued to make a public case for gun control and escalated further when he began using a Portland local ordinance to crackdown on gun owners.

MICHAEL CHITWOOD: They went absolutely ballistic.

HOST: Months later, the Legislature, with the help of Speaker Martin, enacted a sweeping law that nullified all Maine municipal gun ordinances, including those with waiting periods.

But Chitwood continued to find traction in the media as he pushed for gun reform.

Martin responded by creating a special public safety commission — and he invited the police chief to join it. The panel was stacked with pro-gun legislators. Six of them were endorsed by SAM and some received campaign cash from the NRA, according to an investigative news report at the time.

MICHAEL CHITWOOD: Personally, I think that John Martin was trying to placate me by putting me on that commission. It meant nothing. Believe me it meant nothing.

HOST, INTERVIEWING: Because nothing came out of it, right?

MICHAEL CHITWOOD: No, no, no. Nothing came out of it. It was all bullshit. Excuse my expression, but that’s what it was. It was total bullshit. … ‘He’s got a big mouth. Let’s, uh, let’s put him on the commission.’

HOST: Chitwood joined anyway. And after five Maine kids were accidentally shot to death in separate incidents over a five-month period, he proposed a law penalizing parents who didn’t safely store their guns. Martin turned it down.

[ambient music fades up]

HOST: The commission disbanded and Chitwood’s bid to take his reforms straight to Maine voters never got off the ground.

Looking back, Chitwood says it still bothers him that he was unfairly portrayed as a gun-hating outsider from Philly.

MICHAEL CHITWOOD: I mean, even today I’m retired. I got guns in my house. God forbid somebody comes in. They’re gonna get , they’re gonna — God bless ’em. That’s all I gotta say.

HOST: Chitwood left the Portland Police Department in 2005 and returned to Pennsylvania.

The Sportsman’s Alliance of Maine and other gun rights groups continued to flex their political muscle. I had a front row seat for one of its more impressive victories. I was working for the Portland Press Herald in 2013 when a rival paper, the Bangor Daily News, tried to obtain data about concealed weapons permits. David Trahan was sitting with me and another reporter in our office at the State House in Augusta. And with just a few keystrokes, I watched as he activated a network of gun rights activists against the Bangor paper.

[piano music fades up]

HOST: What came next was a display of activist power that I had not witnessed before — or since.

The newspaper was soon swamped with complaints and threats to cancel subscriptions and advertising.

I asked Trahan about this over the summer.

DAVID TRAHAN: I warned them. I tried to go the nice path, and they wouldn’t listen. I knew it would enrage my membership to know that their information was being used potentially for political activity.

HOST: The Bangor Daily News said it had no intention of publicly identifying permit holders, but it dropped its request shortly thereafter. And the Legislature, controlled by Democrats, passed a bill that permanently sealed the records.

Two years later, the Legislature enacted a law making it easier to carry concealed handguns. And in 2016, SAM and the NRA teamed up to defeat a referendum that would have expanded background checks.

At that point, gun control activists were in the political wilderness. But in the following years the rising public awareness of American mass shootings would begin to shift Maine gun politics.

So, too, would a change in the state’s political leadership.

[piano music fades up]

SECRETARY OF STATE MATT DUNLAP, ARCHIVAL: “I therefore declare and make known to all persons who are in the exercise of any public trust in this state as well as all good citizens thereof that Janet Trafton Mills is governor and commander in chief of the state of Maine …”

HOST: In 2018, former prosecutor and state attorney general Janet Mills was elected governor. Gun control was not central to her campaign, but her election came on the heels of several high profile mass shootings around the U.S.

NBC NEWS, ARCHIVAL: “In a matter of seconds a country music festival turned tragic. A storm of gunfire raining down upon an innocent crowd.”

CBS EVENING NEWS, ARCHIVAL: “This deadly mass shooting happened in Parkland, Florida about 20 miles northwest of Ft. Lauderdale at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School.”

NBC NEWS, ARCHIVAL: “Pretty much what we have here is a shooting in the area of a synagogue. The local CBS affiliate is reporting that there are …”

HOST: The Parkland mass shooting prompted states to start passing extreme risk protection orders — better known as red flag laws. They allow courts to temporarily remove firearms from people considered to be a danger to themselves or others. Law enforcement, and in some states family members, can petition a court to confiscate the weapons.

As attorney general, Mills had already expressed support for such a measure in 2018.

JANET MILLS, ARCHIVAL, “I think it balances the public’s safety without trampling on Second Amendment rights and without stereotyping individuals with mental illness, the vast majority of whom live fulfilling lives without posing any threat to other people.”

HOST: So, by 2019, with new Democratic majorities in the Maine Legislature, and Mills as governor, gun control activists were actually upbeat about their prospects for reform.

But when the red flag bill surfaced for a public hearing, Mills stayed neutral and released a statement promising to find common ground with stakeholders.

It’s important to note here that Mills is a moderate Democrat. She had campaigned on restoring normalcy to state government after eight chaotic years of her Republican predecessor, Paul LePage. And she has staked out middle-ground positions on touchy issues, including gun control.

So, before the public hearing on the red flag bill, Trahan reached out to Mills directly. He wanted to make sure SAM was part of the discussion.

[ambient music fades up]

DAVID TRAHAN: We listen to everyone. When there’s a problem. We would like to be a problem solver, not a divider.

HOST: So Trahan and Mills decided to work with other interest groups to create an alternative to the red flag bill. The compromise they came up with was so different from any other red flag law they dubbed it a yellow flag law.

Red flag laws vary by state, but most allow family members to directly petition a judge to remove a person’s guns. None of them require a mental health evaluation, as Maine’s yellow flag law does. In Maine, police must initiate the process by taking the person into protective custody. And then, a judge must agree that the person is a risk.

Critics of the yellow flag law argue that the process is burdensome and saddles cops with too much responsibility.

MARGARET GROBAN: So, everyone’s in the wrong lane.

HOST: Former U.S. Attorney Margaret Groban says the yellow flag process puts police in the role of judging a person’s mental health before taking them into protective custody. And in the case of the Lewiston gunman, that proved to be difficult and dangerous.

MARGARET GROBAN: The police should be determining dangerousness, the mental health professional should be determining mental illness and that determination should stay in the mental health commitment lane.

HOST: But the spin on this new approach was that these additional steps, including the mental health evaluation, were features of due process, not barriers to seizing someone’s guns. And they were key to winning Trahan and SAM’s backing because, as he often says, taking away someone’s Second Amendment rights should be a deliberate process.

And that’s what he told Gov. Mills.

DAVID TRAHAN: I talked to her about, instead of red flag, let’s create something that will face constitutional muster. And, and give some level of credibility to the, the gun rights community’s concerns, which is due process, which is ensuring the [gun] rights can be restored, and making sure that elements like mental health and professionals were involved. We did that.

HOST: Trahan and SAM endorsed the yellow flag bill. It sailed through the Maine Legislature.

It was hailed by Trahan and Mills as an exemplar of compromise, and more than that, a local solution to the national problem of gun violence

And that’s the way Trahan views it today.

DAVID TRAHAN: Maine self-governed when it came to that policy and I’m proud of that fact. We didn’t need the out-of-state groups telling us what to do, whether it was the NRA, or Michael Bloomberg’s Moms Demand Action. We said we can solve this problem and we did.

[guitar music]

HOST: But not everyone was thrilled with the compromise. Trahan says he took a ton of heat from within his own ranks.

DAVID TRAHAN: The gun rights community threatened petitions to have me ousted as executive director, did not want me talking to anybody, did not want me talking to the governor. I mean, the mantra was, ‘You can’t trust Democrats.’

HOST: The Maine Gun Safety Coalition, a local gun control group, had reservations about the yellow flag law, but gave it qualified support.

As the red flag bill went down in defeat, then-state Sen. Rebecca Millett, one of its sponsors, issued a prophetic warning from the Senate floor.

STATE SEN. REBECCA MILLETT, ARCHIVAL: “And while we have been lucky so far in Maine to not have experienced a school or mass shooting, parents and students that I speak with, and hear from, believe that it is not a matter of if, but when, unless something more is done.”

HOST: Four years later, on Oct. 25, of 2023, Millett’s fears came true.

MAINE PUBLIC, ARCHIVAL: “A mass shooting occurred last evening in Lewiston. The number of dead and wounded is unclear this morning. Police are looking for a Bowdoin man … ”

HOST: David Trahan raced home from a northern Maine hunting camp to deal with the shooting fallout. And as he did, cracks already seemed to be appearing in the bipartisan foundations of Maine’s gun culture.

A day after the shootings, Democratic Congressman Jared Golden made a shocking apology.

U.S. REP. JARED GOLDEN, ARCHIVAL: “To the families who lost loved ones, and to those who have been harmed, I ask for forgiveness and support as I seek to put an end to these terrible shootings.”

[ambient music fades up]

HOST: Golden, a Marine Corp veteran with an A-plus rating from SAM, announced that he now supported banning assault rifles like the one used in the Lewiston shooting.

In that brief moment, it seemed like Golden’s apology might spark a cascade of other politicians to shift their positions.

But it never happened.

Instead, the spotlight quickly shifted to the gunman and why repeated warnings about his diagnosed psychosis and threatening behavior had failed to trigger use of Maine’s yellow flag law. Republican U.S. Sen. Susan Collins had previously held up the law as a model for gun legislation. She stood right next to Golden during his apology. And she stood staunchly behind the yellow flag law.

U.S. SEN. SUSAN COLLINS, ARCHIVAL: “If, in fact, um, the suspect was hospitalized for two weeks for mental illness that should have triggered the yellow flag law, and he should have been separated from his weapons.”

HOST: Instead of focusing on what made the law so hard to execute, attention turned to human error.

And Trahan welcomed the shift in scrutiny.

DAVID TRAHAN: It wasn’t the system that failed, it was the people in the system.

HOST: While Mills hadn’t said it yet publicly, it would soon become clear that she shared the same view.

Three months after the shootings, she proposed tweaks to parts of the yellow flag law, including protective custody procedures.

She also proposed expanding background checks. And Trahan says he told her SAM would help modify the yellow flag law and not oppose her background check expansion.

DAVID TRAHAN: So, what I said to the governor was, ‘Because we worked so hard on the yellow flag law, we’ll help you with that component, but we insist that the, um, red flag law not pass. That was No. 1. And that whatever we do, we do not lower the due process standards. So that was why we were engaged in that. We kept all those due process standards in place, we made improvements we could live with, and we understood that the background check piece was going to pass.

[ambient music]

HOST: SAM stayed neutral on the governor’s bill and fought just about everything else, including a red flag proposal that — conspicuously — never received a vote in the Democratic controlled Legislature.

Public records requested by Maine Public, the Portland Press Herald and FRONTLINE PBS show that Democratic lawmakers had significant interest in pursuing a red flag law right after the shootings. But they slow-walked the proposal after the governor released details of her bill. I recently asked her about that.

HOST, INTERVIEWING: Did you tell legislative leaders that you would veto a red flag proposal, that you opposed it, or — ?

GOV. JANET MILLS: I can’t speak for the minds of individual legislators or individual caucuses in the House or Senate, Democratic or Republican, but I sent the message that this is a package that we’ve put together after significant research and significant discussions across the board, and this is the package that I’m comfortable with.

HOST: She also dismissed the idea that Trahan and SAM has more influence on her gun proposals than other stakeholders.

But the governor has largely echoed Trahan’s all-out defense of the yellow flag law. When we spoke in September she arrived with a printout of all the times it had been used since the shootings — 370.

GOV. JANET MILLS: That’s more than once a day. We’re saving lives with the existing law.

HOST: And Mills has blamed individuals for the tragedy rather than any failed policy.

GOV. JANET MILLS: At its core, this tragedy was caused by a colossal failure of human judgment by several people on several occasions, a profound negligence that, as the commission rightly stated, was an abdication of responsibility.

HOST: Meanwhile, Maine gun control groups are not waiting for Mills and the Maine Legislature to pass a red flag law. They recently announced they’re organizing in hopes of getting a red flag proposal on the ballot. In Episode 6, we’ll take a look at how one victim’s father is making gun control legislation a new mission.

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Trahan and SAM will be ready. Maine’s preeminent voice in the gun debate appears just as influential and powerful as it was before the Lewiston tragedy. And although he took an unexpected loss when the governor allowed a three-day waiting period to purchase guns to become law without her signature, Trahan and gun rights groups have followed through on their promise to challenge its constitutionality.

There is, however, hope for supporters of gun reform. Congressman Jared Golden narrowly won reelection after withstanding a barrage of attack ads that framed his shift on an assault weapons ban as a betrayal. And while Trahan vowed to hold the politicians who voted for the waiting period law accountable in the 2024 election, Democrats managed to hold control in the Legislature — although with smaller majorities.

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All of that has left a murky forecast for the future of Maine’s gun politics. Will the urgency left by the Lewiston shooting reverberate beyond this year? Or has the focus on individuals and their inaction before the tragedy undercut the impetus for systemic reform?

No matter what happens, gun rights activists will use a time-tested playbook: leveraging Maine’s gun culture against efforts for change.

Four of the 18 people killed and some of the 13 injured in the Lewiston shootings that night were Deaf.

KYLE CURTIS, VOICED BY AN INTERPRETER, SHOOTING COMMISSION: “I felt the vibrations in the bar. The glasses at the bar shattered. And I was confused. I saw the bullets coming out of the gun.”

HOST: Advocates believe it’s the deadliest mass shooting of deaf people in the U.S. The pain of that loss was magnified as the community of deaf and hard of hearing struggled for access to information.

REGAN THIBODEAU, VOICED BY AN INTERPRETER: These people live in our community. They live in our towns. This is a critical time and access is important.

AMANDA EISENHART, COMMISSION: “This is because deaf people are chronically overlooked in public policy, procedure, and public safety practice. To assume that deaf people are not present in spaces is to continue to practice the social erasure of deaf lives.”

HOST: That’s next time on Breakdown.

Breakdown is a collaboration between Maine Public Radio, the Portland Press Herald and Frontline PBS, with support from Rock Creek Sound.

Our reporters are Susan Sharon, Kevin Miller, and Patty Wight.

The producer is Emily Pisacreta.

The show is edited by Ellen Weiss and Keith Shortall.

Our executive producers are Mark Simpson and Erin Texeira.

Sound design and mixing by Benjamin Frisch.

Fact checking by Nicole Reinert.

Legal support from Dale Cohen.

Rick Schneider is the President and CEO of Maine Public Radio.

Lisa Desisto is the CEO and Publisher of the Portland Press Herald.

Raney Aronson-Rath is the executive producer and editor-in-chief of FRONTLINE.

Breakdown is produced through FRONTLINE’s Local Journalism Initiative, which is funded by the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation.

For an upcoming video translation of the podcast in American Sign Language, go to frontline.org.

For additional reporting about Lewiston, visit mainepublic.org/breakdown, pressherald.com and frontline.org, where you can also stream the documentary “Breakdown in Maine.”

If you are in crisis, please call, text or chat with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988, or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741.

We’re a new podcast and the best way to help us get discovered is to leave a five-star review wherever you get our show, and tell your friends.

I’m Steve Mistler, thanks for listening.

This story is part of an ongoing collaboration with FRONTLINE (PBS) and Maine Public that includes an upcoming documentary. It is supported through FRONTLINE’s Local Journalism Initiative, which is funded by the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation.

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