Taking guns away from people in crisis: Does it work?

In the United States, conversations about gun laws usually get loud fast.
One idea that keeps popping up, though, is surprisingly simple:
when someone is clearly in crisis and at risk of hurting themselves or others,
should we temporarily take away their guns?

These policies often go by names like “red flag laws” or
extreme risk protection orders (ERPOs). They don’t ban guns outright.
Instead, they create a legal process to temporarily separate a person in crisis
from their firearms while a dangerous situation is unfolding.

Supporters say this is a common-sense way to prevent suicides and potential mass shootings.
Critics worry about civil liberties, due process, and the possibility of abuse.
So the big question is: does taking guns away from people in crisis actually work?

What does “taking guns away in a crisis” really mean?

Let’s start by decoding the jargon. An extreme risk protection order (ERPO)
is a civil court order that temporarily restricts a person’s access to firearms because a judge
finds credible evidence that they pose a serious risk to themselves or others.

While the exact details vary by state, most ERPO or “red flag” laws share a few core traits:

• They’re temporary. Orders can last from days to about a year, depending on the state
  and whether the order is emergency (short-term) or final (longer-term).
• They’re civil, not criminal. Having an ERPO issued against you doesn’t mean you’ve been convicted of a crime,
  though violating the order can be a criminal offense.
• A petitioneroften law enforcement, and in many states a family member, partner, or sometimes a clinicianasks a court
  to issue the order.
• A judge reviews evidence (threats, behavior, mental health crisis, recent incidents, etc.) and decides whether the risk
  is serious enough to justify temporarily removing firearms and blocking new purchases.

Think of an ERPO as the legal equivalent of hitting the pause button: not a permanent solution to all violence,
but a tool for moments when everything is clearly spiraling.

Why focus on people in crisis?

When people think about gun violence, they often picture mass shootings. But in the U.S.,
the majority of firearm deaths are actually suicides. In recent years,
roughly half or more of all gun deaths have been self-inflicted, and firearm suicide numbers
have reached record highs several years in a row.

Suicide is often impulsive. One of the most sobering findings from mental health research is that
many people move from deciding to attempt suicide to actually acting in a very short windowsometimes
minutes or hours. If a firearm is available in that moment, the attempt is far more likely to be fatal.

Studies have shown that having access to a gun roughly triples the risk of death by suicide,
not only for the gun owner but for everyone in the home. That’s why public health experts talk about
firearms as a lethality multiplier: the crisis might still happen, but the presence of a gun
dramatically raises the chance that the person will not survive.

ERPOs aim squarely at this intersection: serious crisis + easy access to a deadly weapon.
The idea is that if you remove the most lethal method at the most dangerous time, you can save liveseven if you
don’t solve every underlying problem overnight.

What does the research say about ERPOs and suicide?

So far, most of the evidence about ERPOs focuses on suicide prevention,
because that’s where we have the clearest data.

Several studies looking at early adopters of ERPO-style laws, such as Connecticut and Indiana,
found that when these orders were used to remove guns from people at high risk of self-harm,
suicide rates appeared to decline. Later analyses that pooled data across tens of thousands of ERPO cases
estimated that roughly one suicide may be prevented for every 10–25 ERPOs issued, depending on underlying assumptions
and local conditions.

That might sound like a lot of court paperwork to prevent a single death, but in public health terms,
that’s a meaningful impact. Suicide doesn’t just affect one person; it devastates families, friends, and communities.
When researchers talk about “number needed to treat,” that range is often considered promisingespecially for
a tool that can be targeted to the most high-risk situations.

That said, the research is not perfect. Most studies are observational, not randomized experiments
(for obvious ethical reasons). Different states collect different data, implement the laws unevenly, and vary a lot
in how often ERPOs are used. Think of the evidence as:
promising, but still evolving.

What about mass shootings and interpersonal violence?

The public conversation about red flag laws often centers on mass shootings:
“If we’d had an ERPO, could this have been prevented?”

Here, the evidence is more of a patchwork. Researchers can point to individual cases
where ERPOs or similar orders appear to have disrupted plans for school shootings, workplace violence,
or domestic homicides. In some states, law enforcement has credited ERPOs with disarming people who
were making credible threats or stockpiling weapons while making violent statements.

However, it’s much harder to measure what didn’t happen. We don’t have neat statistics that say,
“This many mass shootings were prevented.” What we do have are:

• Case reports suggesting ERPOs have interrupted specific plots or escalating conflicts.
• Patterns in petitions showing that a significant share of ERPOs are filed in the context of
  intimate partner violence, threats against others, or menacing behavior with weapons.
• Emerging statewide analyses indicating that, in some jurisdictions, robust ERPO use
  may be associated with lower firearm homicide or combined firearm injury ratesthough results
  vary by state and model.

In plain English: ERPOs look most clearly effective at preventing suicides,
and they may help reduce some forms of interpersonal violence, but it’s too early to promise
dramatic drops in overall homicide or mass shootings across the board.

How are these laws actually used on the ground?

On paper, ERPOs sound straightforward. In practice, they live and die on implementation:
who knows about them, who is willing to file, and how judges respond.

Studies from several states reveal some common themes:

• Most petitions involve self-harm risk. Across multiple states, a large share of ERPOs
  are filed because someone is clearly suicidal, has made threats of self-harm, or recently attempted suicide
  and still has access to firearms.
• Law enforcement is often the primary petitioner. Even in states where family or household members
  can file, police frequently bring the majority of petitionsespecially in rural or politically conservative areas
  where civilians may be less aware of or comfortable using the law.
• Firearm relinquishment is imperfect. In some places, researchers found that guns were only
  documented as removed in a portion of granted cases, or that records were incomplete. That suggests
  that paper orders don’t automatically translate into real-world disarmament.
• Training matters. Law enforcement and judges who receive dedicated ERPO training are more likely
  to use the law and apply it consistently; where training is spotty, usage is low and uneven.

One example: in Michigan’s first year under its new red flag law, hundreds of petitions were filed,
with the majority resulting in “no-gun” orders. A subset of individuals later faced criminal chargesbut those charges
were not for violating the firearm bans themselves, suggesting that the orders were largely respected in practice.

Do these laws reduce overall gun violence?

This is the million-dollar questionand the honest answer is: we’re still learning.

Newer multi-state analyses are starting to look beyond individual stories and ask whether ERPOs
influence population-level trends in firearm injury and death. Early work suggests:

• States that actively implement and promote ERPOs tend to see stronger signals of impact on suicides
  and possibly other forms of gun violence.
• Where laws exist but are rarely used, they naturally do little to move the needle.
• Effects vary widely depending on how easy it is to file, how courts interpret “risk,” and whether
  law enforcement has the resources and political support to enforce orders.

Think of ERPOs as one tool in a very crowded toolbox. They are not a magic solution,
but they can complement other policies like background checks, safe storage laws, and
investments in mental health services.

Civil liberties, fairness, and due process concerns

Any law that lets the government take someone’s propertyespecially something as politically and culturally loaded
as a gunis going to raise red flags (pun fully intended).

Critics of ERPOs worry about:

• Due process: Many ERPOs start as “ex parte” orders, where a judge can act quickly
  based on one side’s evidence before the gun owner has a chance to respond. Supporters argue this is essential
  in emergencies, while opponents see a risk of unfair or rushed decisions.
• False or malicious petitions: Could someone weaponize ERPOs to harass an ex-partner or a neighbor?
  Most laws try to guard against this with penalties for false filings, but enforcement can be uneven.
• Unequal impact: There are concerns that ERPOs might fall more heavily on certain racial or
  socioeconomic groups, especially where law enforcement already has a history of biased policing.
• Stigma and trust: Some gun owners fear that reaching out for mental health help
  could trigger a petition, making them reluctant to seek care.

Courts are still hashing out how these laws fit with constitutional protections, especially after recent
Supreme Court decisions expanding Second Amendment rights. So far, many ERPO laws have survived legal challenges,
but litigation continues, and states are adjusting language around evidence standards, timelines, and appeals.

A patchwork map: where the laws stand now

The U.S. doesn’t have one unified approach to ERPOsit has a patchwork.

As of 2025, just over twenty states plus Washington, D.C., and some territories have some form of ERPO or red flag law.
Some, like California and New York, have relatively broad petitioner lists and higher usage. Others have narrower laws,
more complex processes, or little outreach, so the laws quietly sit on the books.

Recent trends show both expansion and backlash:

• Expansion: In the wake of high-profile mass shootings and public pressure from survivors
  and families, states like Maine have moved from more limited “yellow flag” approaches to stronger red flag laws
  that allow family members to petition directly.
• Backlash: States like Texas have instead passed “anti-red-flag” laws that explicitly bar state courts
  from issuing ERPO-style orders and even penalize officials for trying to use federal funding or frameworks to do so.

The result is that whether “taking guns away from people in crisis” is even an option depends heavily on your zip code.

What makes ERPOs more likely to work?

Where ERPOs appear to be most effective, a few ingredients usually show up:

• Clear, simple procedures for filing and serving orders, with user-friendly forms
  and guidance for families.
• Training for law enforcement, judges, and clinicians so that they understand when and how
  to use the law.
• Public awareness campaigns so families even know this option exists before a crisis peaks.
• Follow-through on firearm relinquishment, including verifying that guns are actually surrendered
  or stored outside the person’s control.
• Connection to services: pairing firearm removal with mental health care, substance use treatment,
  or domestic violence support, instead of just taking guns and walking away.

Without these supports, ERPOs can become a piece of paper that doesn’t translate into real-world safety.
With them, they function more like a safety netimperfect, but better than nothing.

So… does taking guns away from people in crisis work?

If you’re hoping for a catchy yes-or-no answer, sorrythis is public policy, not a game show.
But we can say a few things with reasonable confidence:

• Yes, ERPOs are associated with preventing suicides. Evidence suggests that temporarily
  removing firearms from people in acute crisis reduces the risk that a suicide attempt will be fatal.
• They likely prevent some acts of interpersonal violence, including potential shootings,
  though we mostly see this in case studies and early state-level research rather than neat national statistics.
• They are not a cure-all. ERPOs won’t fix underlying mental health systems, resolve all conflicts,
  or eliminate the broader drivers of violence.
• How well they work depends heavily on implementation. Training, awareness, due process protections,
  and community trust make or break these laws.

In other words, taking guns away from people in crisis can work as one targeted toolespecially to prevent suicide
but its impact depends on how thoughtfully and fairly the tool is used.

If you or someone you know is in immediate distress or thinking about suicide, you can contact the
Suicide & Crisis Lifeline in the U.S. by calling or texting 988 for confidential support.

Real-world experiences: how this can look in practice

Policies can feel abstract, so let’s walk through what this might look like in real life.
These scenarios are based on patterns from real cases and research, with details blended to protect privacy.

1. The family member who sees the spiral early

Imagine a woman named Lisa whose brother, Ben, is going through a brutal divorce,
losing sleep, and drinking more than usual. He owns several firearms,
and lately his late-night texts have gone from “I can’t take this”
to “You’d all be better off without me.”

At first, Lisa tries the usual things: checking in, encouraging therapy,
bringing over meals. But one night, Ben sends a picture of his handgun on the table
with a message that sounds close to a goodbye.

In a state with a strong ERPO law, Lisa might call a crisis line or local law enforcement,
explain what’s happening, and learn that she can file a petition. With help from an advocate,
she submits a sworn statement describing Ben’s behavior, text messages, and access to guns.
A judge reviews the evidence the same day and issues a temporary order.

Police serve the order, talk with Ben, and temporarily remove his firearms.
Within weeks, Ben starts counseling and a doctor adjusts his medication.
At a later hearing, the judge weighs updated information and decides whether to extend the order or let it expire.
Ben doesn’t love this processin fact, he may resent it for a whilebut he’s alive to feel resentful, which is the point.

2. The partner in a volatile relationship

In another scenario, Jordan is living with a partner who has become increasingly controlling and volatile.
Arguments escalate quickly, and there’s a history of punching walls, breaking furniture, and threatening to “end it all.”
There are guns in the house, and Jordan has started sleeping with the bedroom door locked.

One night, after an explosive argument, the partner waves a gun around,
saying they’re not afraid to die and that “no one is going to take what’s mine.”
Jordan manages to leave and goes straight to the police.

In a jurisdiction with an ERPO law, officers might file a petition describing the threats and access to firearms.
A judge issues an emergency order, and police return to serve it, removing weapons and barring new purchases during the order.
This doesn’t magically fix the relationship, but it lowers the odds that the next argument ends as a homicide or murder-suicide.

3. The reluctant gun owner in treatment

Not every ERPO story is purely adversarial. Picture Sam, a veteran who owns firearms,
enjoys target shooting, and also lives with depression and PTSD. During a particularly rough patch,
Sam tells a therapist that they’ve been thinking about using a gun to end their life.

In states where clinicians can petition for ERPOs, the therapist might explore options:
asking Sam to voluntarily store firearms with a trusted friend or at a gun range,
or, if Sam is ambivalent, explaining that a temporary court order could help keep them safe
while they work on treatment.

If an ERPO is filed, it may feel invasive to Sambut it can also function as a structured, time-limited guardrail
during the most dangerous period. Later, if Sam’s condition stabilizes and the court is satisfied that the acute risk
has passed, firearms access can be restored through the legal process.

4. The messy middle: when systems fall short

Of course, not every story is neat. There are cases where families didn’t know an ERPO existed,
or law enforcement declined to file, or a judge didn’t grant an order despite worrying behavior.
There are also people who felt wrongly targeted, who struggled to get their firearms back
even when their crisis had resolved, or who felt the process was confusing or unfair.

These “messy middle” experiences underscore why design and oversight matter.
A law might look great in a press release, but if the forms are confusing,
hearings are hard to attend, or people can’t get legal help, its real-world impact shrinks fast.

What we can take from these experiences

Taken together, these kinds of experiences hint at a few practical truths:

• People who love someone in crisis often want a way to act before tragedy strikes,
  and ERPOs can offer that path when other options feel too blunt or too late.
• Gun owners themselves sometimes appreciate a structured, temporary “off-ramp” during periods
  when they don’t fully trust their own impulses.
• Poorly implemented systemsnot the basic concept of temporary crisis-based removalare what most often drive frustration and mistrust.

Ultimately, “taking guns away from people in crisis” isn’t about labeling someone as permanently dangerous
or anti-gun. It’s about acknowledging that most of us are vulnerable at our worst moments
and that building in a safety measure for those moments can mean the difference between a terrible day and a permanent loss.