Dayton Oregon District Shooting Survivor Tells His Story
Dion Green is the founder of FUDGE, a non-profit group that provides support to victims and survivors of gun violence. Dion is a survivor of the August 4, 2019 mass shooting in the Oregon District in Dayton, Ohio. His father was killed in that shooting.
He joined Whitney to co-host A Night For Life: Reflections on Survival in September. For this blog post, we asked Dion to share more about himself, his father, and the mission of FUDGE.
Tell us a little about yourself.
My name is Dion Green. I am from Springfield Ohio but have been living in Dayton for a while. I have one sister named Megan. I am a graduate student at Keller Graduate finishing up my MBA. I used to work at St. Vincent DePaul, but I decided to start a non-profit with the acronym of FUDGE - my father’s last name, but also standing for “Flourishing Under Distress Given Encouragement”.
My non-profit focuses on survivors and victims of gun violence, like myself, and helps them get through their situation to regain their lives. As survivors and victims know too well, depression can claim your personality if you don’t seek guidance in the right direction to help you overcome the tragedy.
I also just became an author; my new book is called Untitled: An Act of God/Act of Man. I wrote this memoir to give others the encouragement and strength they need to overcome life-changing events. In the book, I attempt to explain the pain I have suffered. But I want this book to be something that when you’re feeling down and out, you can pick it up, read about the things I faced and how I am trying to shed light on a dark situation, and realize that your life could be worse than what it is.
I like to fish and canoe. My father was an avid fisherman; that is how we really did our bonding and would catch up on what was going on with each other. I also like giving back and helping out others in the community or anywhere across the country.
Tell us a little about your father. What was he like?
My father, Derrick Fudge, was a stern man when I was growing up, but as I got older he became a friend. Like all fathers and sons, we argued over things. Now, I wish I had the chance to argue with him about something.
My dad was a kind-hearted person. He would do anything to help someone, even if he did not know you. He was a faithful bell ringer for the Salvation Army, and everyone loved him. That’s why last year I stood in place for him, ringing the bell and fulfilling his duty since he was not here.
My dad was a big kid. All the grandchildren loved him because he was a kid himself around them. He loved the Pittsburgh Steelers football team and loved to fish. He lived a simple life, but it was enough for him.
What happened that night in Dayton?
August 4, 2019 started out as a great day because I went canoeing. I had not been out of the house since May, because my home was hit by the tornadoes that ravaged the city of Dayton. I decided to go canoeing on the Mad River in Springfield just to feel alive again, and I had a great time.
After leaving the river, I went to my mother’s house in Springfield to hang out with my family, because I hadn’t seen them since before the tornadoes. I offered for my friends and family to come back to Dayton to go out that evening. Everyone came to my house before we headed to the Oregon District.
As we made our way to the Oregon District, my dad fell asleep. I told him to stay in the car, that we would only be there for a short period of time. But he said he was coming too.
We went into Newcom’s, and as soon as we get inside my dad is up there dancing and having a blast. At one point, a security guard came up to us saying that we had to leave because my dad was dancing inappropriately. I have the video, and he was definitely “social-distance” dancing. Since I was tired anyway, we decided to leave. Once outside, we stood by the taco stand waiting on my sister and her boyfriend to come out.
Right in that moment, my night went from having a blast to the worst night of my life. While standing there waiting for my sister, a tall slender white man came walking down the side of the building wearing a mask and a body armor suit. As he entered the sidewalk, he let off a couple of rounds. I just knew this was not real, because the Oregon District is heavily guarded with police officers. I thought maybe he was just acting stupid.
It was no joke. After he came out shooting, he walked in between the cars. Me, my dad, and my girlfriend were still standing. Nobody was hurt. Then, as he crossed the street, the gun shots were non-stop and people began to panic and take cover. I still thought, this is not real. He walked right by me, and no one was hurt.
While people were running and screaming, I’m telling my dad to get up so we could get out of there. Reality kicked in when the person in front of me asked me to call the police because they had been shot. I tried calling, but all lines were busy. I went back to my dad saying, “Get up man. We are out of here.” But he just kept lying there with his eyes open, breathing like a fish out of water.
When I looked at him the first time, I didn’t see any blood. I turned on the flashlight on my phone, and everything looked fine until I got up to his head and shoulders, and I saw that he was lying in a puddleof blood. That’s when I lost all feeling and broke down. I started performing CPR and saying, “Get up dad”, but I could tell he was slowly leaving me. So, I just hugged him and kept saying, “I love you, dad. Please get up. I love you. Please get up.”
But he didn’t get up. And I just lost control of my life and everything around me in that moment.
How have you responded to grief?
I am still dealing with it. I seek help professionally and I talk to others close to me. Talking about it is a form of therapy for me. Sometimes I can speak about it, and some days I can’t.
What do you want the average American to understand about your story?
First, that mental health is a major issue. If conditions are left untreated, and a person is not seeking help, it can lead to something devastating, and you can be left facing the challenges I am going through.
Also, that life is not promised, so please make right with your loved ones and friends because not one minute is guaranteed.
Mental health issues and guns are not a good combination; it’s a recipe for disaster.
What do you want elected officials to understand about your story?
I’m not a politician, but I want better guidelines on where guns like these are being sold and who they’re being sold to, so we can prevent these events from happening to others around the country.