My Heart Breaks for Delaware: We Can—and Must—Do Better
My Heart Breaks for Delaware: We Can—and Must—Do Better
I love my home state far too much to pretend everything is fine.
By Dennis J. Carradin, Jr., LPCMH, NCC, BCETS
Delaware will always be home.
I may have moved out of the state 11 years ago, but you don't erase decades of your life simply by crossing a state line.
I still have a clinical practice in Delaware. I still have businesses there. I still work there. I still have family there. I still have friends there. I still respond to crises there. And there are pieces of my life scattered throughout the state that will forever make Delaware part of who I am.
That is precisely why this article is difficult to write.
My heart breaks for my home state.
I don't say that as someone standing outside Delaware throwing rocks at it.
I say it as someone who loves Delaware enough to be disappointed by what I see happening to it.
There is a difference.
And somewhere along the way, I fear Delaware has become extraordinarily good at accepting things we never should have accepted.
Violence.
Road rage.
Homelessness.
Unaffordable healthcare.
Businesses struggling.
Independent restaurants disappearing.
Property-tax uncertainty.
Families struggling.
Communities losing their identities.
And perhaps most troubling of all…
mediocrity.
Because the most dangerous sentence in Delaware may eventually become:
"Well, that's just Delaware."
No.
The hell it is.
Let's Start With Violence
Every shooting bothers me.
Every senseless murder bothers me.
Every stabbing bothers me.
Every story about an argument escalating into violence bothers me.
Every road-rage incident where two people who began their day as complete strangers somehow end it with lives destroyed bothers me.
And when I first began writing this article on August 11, 2026, four people had been shot in Wilmington that morning.
Thankfully, according to initial reporting, they were expected to survive.
But think about how numb we've become when the reaction to four human beings being shot can somehow become:
"Well, at least nobody died."
Is that really where we want the bar?
We cannot normalize this.
And unfortunately, the police blotter didn't stop updating simply because I finished the first draft of this article.
By the time I prepared this version for publication on August 17, Delaware law-enforcement agencies were reporting still more violent incidents.
On August 13, Delaware State Police responded to Slaughter Station Road in Hartly after shots were fired into an occupied residence. While troopers and detectives were still there investigating, they heard additional gunfire, with rounds striking tree branches above them. Police later arrested a 24-year-old Hartly man and linked him to that incident as well as another shooting from July. He faces, among other allegations, multiple counts of discharging a firearm at a dwelling and first-degree reckless endangering.
Think about that scene.
Police are already at a residence investigating gunfire…
and more shots start ringing out while they're there.
At what point do we stop treating this stuff as just another line in a police news release?
Then, in the early morning hours of August 16, Delaware State Police responded to a Wawa on Yorklyn Road in Hockessin. Police allege a man repeatedly entered and exited the store while armed with a knife, threatened employees, attempted to stab one worker and ultimately cut another employee's hand before Wawa employees disarmed and restrained him until troopers arrived.
A Wawa.
In Hockessin.
At three o'clock in the morning.
Apparently even grabbing coffee and a sandwich now has the potential to become an episode of Law & Order: First State.
And yes, I understand that a stabbing in a convenience store and gun violence are different crimes.
That's not my point.
My point is the normalization of volatility.
The escalation.
The apparent inability of some people to experience frustration, conflict, anger or whatever internal chaos they're carrying without making everyone around them part of it.
That should concern us.
We Also Have to Be Honest When Crime Improves
Now, if we're going to have an intellectually honest conversation about Delaware, we also have to acknowledge good news when it exists.
And there is good news.
Wilmington made measurable progress in 2025.
According to the Wilmington Police Department, murders declined 20%, shooting incidents declined 21%, and shooting victims declined 17% from the previous year. The city recorded 64 shooting incidents—the lowest number since 2003.
That's significant.
The police officers, investigators, violence-intervention programs, community organizations, neighborhood leaders and residents doing that work deserve recognition.
Progress deserves applause.
But progress does not mean the problem is solved.
Sixty-four shooting incidents are better than 81.
They're still sixty-four shooting incidents.
And as a trauma therapist, I don't experience violence as a number on a spreadsheet.
I know what happens after everyone else goes home.
There is a mother who gets a phone call.
There are children who lose parents.
There are parents who bury children.
There are spouses whose entire lives change in seconds.
There are police officers, firefighters, EMTs, dispatchers, nurses, physicians and emergency department personnel who repeatedly absorb pieces of these tragedies.
Then everyone is expected to get up the next morning and pretend everything is normal.
It isn't.
And Wilmington Isn't the Entire State
Violence doesn't stop at Wilmington's city limits.
On August 4, Delaware State Police say a road-rage confrontation near Salem Church Road and Old Baltimore Pike in Newark ended with 46-year-old Jason Paoletti of Bear being shot and killed. Police charged 28-year-old William Simpler Jr. with first-degree murder and a firearm offense. According to investigators, Paoletti was riding a motorcycle when a verbal confrontation developed with occupants of another vehicle before the shooting.
Think about the absurdity of that.
Two people encounter one another while driving.
There is reportedly a confrontation.
Someone ends up dead.
One family is grieving.
Another person's life is forever changed.
Over road rage.
And that wasn't the only recent incident involving a firearm and an angry driver.
On July 22, Delaware State Police investigated another firearm-related road-rage incident on Route 1 near the Route 301 exit in which a suspect allegedly pointed a handgun at another driver.
Over traffic.
Seriously?
Whatever happened to shaking your head, calling the other driver an idiot from the privacy of your vehicle, and continuing to Wawa like a normal Delawarean?
I'm Gen X.
We had road rage too.
We called somebody a jackass, aggressively changed the radio station and continued with our lives.
Not every offense requires retaliation.
Not every disagreement requires escalation.
Not every insult requires a response.
And somebody cutting you off in traffic certainly isn't worth dying—or killing—over.
Sometimes the strongest thing an adult can do is simply keep driving.
The Violence Isn't Confined to New Castle County Either
Recent incidents have stretched throughout Delaware.
State Police have investigated shots fired into occupied homes in Ellendale and Hartly.
In Hartly, the August 13 incident became even more disturbing because additional rounds were allegedly fired while troopers were still on the scene investigating the original gunfire. No one was reported injured, but police charged the suspect with seven counts of first-degree reckless endangering among other offenses.
In Dover, the numbers from another recent case are almost difficult to comprehend.
Police say a July 6 shooting in the Village of Westover involved approximately 40 shell casings, four alleged shooters and gunfire that ultimately affected four occupied residences, one unoccupied residence and twelve vehicles. Dover Police said 29 people were endangered by that single shooting. One 16-year-old had been arrested as of August 4, while detectives continued looking for three other suspects.
Twenty-nine people.
One incident.
Read that again.
Twenty-nine people endangered by gunfire.
In another Dover case, police arrested two juveniles after investigators said 24 rounds were fired into an occupied home on Topaz Circle. Three people were inside the residence when the shooting occurred.
Twenty-four rounds.
Not two.
Not four.
Twenty-four.
Dover has also endured the death of 18-year-old Christopher Waters, who was shot June 28 and died from his injuries July 2. Investigators recovered more than 30 shell casings from that scene.
Eighteen.
A kid.
And then came another reminder that the consequences of violence can echo for years.
On August 14, Dover Police announced a third arrest in the Christmas Eve 2024 shooting death of 14-year-old Juwan Walker. The newest suspect is 16 years old. The two previously arrested suspects were 15 and 13 at the time of their arrests. The latest juvenile suspect is expected to face charges including second-degree murder, conspiracy and firearm offenses after extradition to Delaware.
Fourteen-year-old victim.
Teenage defendants.
On Christmas Eve.
There is nothing remotely normal about that sentence.
And there shouldn't be.
Earlier this year, the FBI also sought information about a March Wilmington shooting in which four people were shot and three were killed.
Then in June, something happened that should be particularly disturbing to anyone who works in healthcare:
Gun violence entered a hospital.
When Violence Enters a Hospital, Something Is Very Wrong
In June, a shooting occurred at ChristianaCare's Wilmington Campus.
A hospital.
A place where people are supposed to go to be healed became another place touched by violence.
This one is particularly personal for me.
I've spent decades working with first responders and healthcare professionals following traumatic events.
Most people see the headline.
I see what happens afterward.
I know what happens when the police tape comes down.
When the television cameras leave.
When social media finds something new to be angry about.
The nurses still remember.
The doctors still remember.
The cops still remember.
The medics still remember.
The witnesses still remember.
The families sure as hell remember.
Trauma doesn't disappear when the news cycle changes.
That's one of the problems with discussing violence entirely through statistics.
Statistics measure incidents.
They don't measure all the people who carry those incidents home.
We Have Become Far Too Comfortable Being Angry
Something else worries me about Delaware—and frankly, America in general.
People seem angry everywhere.
On the roads.
In stores.
Online.
At work.
In restaurants.
In neighborhoods.
A minor inconvenience becomes a confrontation.
A perceived insult becomes a challenge.
A disagreement becomes a declaration of war.
Somebody cuts somebody off on Route 1 and suddenly two adults are behaving as though the honor of their respective bloodlines must be defended before they reach the next exit.
Enough.
You aren't required to attend every argument you're invited to.
You don't have to correct every idiot.
You don't have to respond to every insult.
And you certainly don't need to introduce a firearm into a disagreement because someone doesn't understand how merging works.
Sometimes maturity sounds remarkably simple:
"That guy's an asshole."
And then you go home.
Homelessness Should Break All of Our Hearts
The growth of homelessness in Delaware should concern every one of us.
Not because homeless people are inconvenient.
Because they are people.
Delaware's 2025 Point-in-Time Count identified 1,585 people experiencing homelessness, representing a 16% increase from 2024.
Nearly one-fifth of households experiencing homelessness included children, and children younger than 18 represented more than 27% of Delaware's unhoused population.
Read that again.
Children.
This isn't something we should become accustomed to seeing.
Housing costs, mental illness, addiction, family disruption, poverty, employment instability and shortages of affordable housing intersect in incredibly complicated ways.
There isn't one villain.
There isn't one political party responsible.
And there isn't one magical government program that fixes everything.
But accepting homelessness as simply part of the Delaware landscape cannot be the answer either.
These aren't inconvenient objects cluttering intersections.
They're human beings.
Some are dealing with mental illness.
Some are dealing with addiction.
Some experienced catastrophic financial circumstances.
Some are working and still cannot afford housing.
And some are children who didn't choose any of it.
We can argue about policy all day.
But can we at least agree that watching homelessness increase and shrugging our shoulders isn't a strategy?
We are better than that.
Or at least we should aspire to be.
Delaware Cannot Take Business for Granted
For generations, Delaware has enjoyed an extraordinary reputation as America's corporate home.
That reputation is something Delawareans should be proud of.
But it isn't guaranteed forever.
There has been enormous national discussion about companies reconsidering Delaware as their corporate home—enough that the term "DExit" entered the conversation.
Texas wants those corporations.
Nevada wants them.
Other states want them.
But here's where facts matter.
Despite several high-profile corporate departures and very public criticism of Delaware's corporate legal environment, the predicted mass corporate exodus has not materialized.
In fact, reporting indicates Delaware experienced substantial growth in new corporate formations during 2025.
That's good news.
We should celebrate it.
But Delaware would be foolish to interpret it as permission to become complacent.
Competition doesn't care about history.
Being number one yesterday doesn't guarantee you're number one tomorrow.
Here's a revolutionary business concept:
Your competitors don't give a damn about your résumé.
Delaware spent generations building its corporate reputation.
It needs to keep earning it.
Every.
Single.
Year.
Then There Are the Property Taxes
Oh boy.
If you'd like to transform an otherwise pleasant Delaware homeowner into an amateur forensic accountant, ask about reassessment.
After decades without comprehensive reassessment, property values throughout Delaware were reassessed, creating enormous confusion and concern about what new valuations ultimately mean for homeowners.
Municipalities and counties have had to recalculate rates around dramatically changed assessments.
There are legitimate reasons for reassessment.
There are legitimate governmental expenses.
And there are complicated formulas involved.
But here's something government occasionally forgets:
People don't experience taxes as formulas.
They experience them as:
"How much more money do I have to find?"
Government loves phrases like:
"revenue neutral."
"rollback rate."
"assessed valuation."
"revenue requirements."
Homeowners hear:
"How much is the damn check?"
People don't pay mortgages with policy terminology.
They pay them with money.
And at some point government has to understand taxpayers aren't bottomless ATMs.
If you're asking people to pay more, people deserve to see value for what they're paying.
I Miss the Delaware Restaurant Culture I Remember
This one might seem trivial compared with shootings, homelessness and healthcare.
It isn't trivial to me.
Food is culture.
Restaurants are community.
Growing up, Delaware was filled with places where somebody knew somebody.
Family restaurants.
Neighborhood pizza shops.
Dinors. (Yes. Spelling is intentional. IYKYK)
Taverns.
Italian restaurants.
Seafood places.
Little hole-in-the-wall establishments where the menu hadn't changed in 17 years because changing it would have started a neighborhood uprising.
Places where the owner was actually inside the building.
Places where the bartender knew your name.
Places where somebody's grandmother was responsible for at least one recipe and God help the idiot who suggested changing it.
Those places gave communities personality.
Now drive down another commercial corridor.
Chain.
Chain.
Bank.
Fast food.
Drive-thru.
Chain.
Urgent care.
Chain.
Another drive-thru.
Congratulations.
We've created Anywhere, USA.
Delaware has watched longtime independent establishments disappear. Wilmington-area closures alone have included restaurants that served their communities for decades.
I'm not blaming fast-food restaurants for Delaware's problems.
I enjoy plenty of them.
But there is something genuinely sad about watching locally owned establishments disappear while communities become increasingly indistinguishable from one another.
When the family restaurant disappears, we don't just lose somewhere to eat.
We lose history.
We lose relationships.
We lose personality.
We lose community.
We lose another little piece of Delaware.
Healthcare: Why Are We Accepting Average?
This issue is especially personal because I work inside Delaware's healthcare system and alongside healthcare professionals.
Delaware isn't at the bottom nationally.
But should "at least we're not at the bottom" really be the standard?
The Commonwealth Fund's 2025 State Health System Performance Scorecard ranked Delaware 25th nationally.
Twenty-fifth.
For a state this small?
For a state sitting between some of the greatest healthcare systems, academic medical centers and medical schools in the world?
Why are we satisfied with the middle?
Delaware has recognized problems involving healthcare access, affordability, primary care, mental-health resources and healthcare workforce shortages.
In 2026, the state continued introducing initiatives aimed at improving primary care and expanding healthcare access, particularly in underserved areas and in Kent and Sussex Counties.
And then there is the money.
Delaware healthcare spending reached approximately $11.3 billion for calendar year 2024, according to figures released by the state in 2026.
Overall spending increased approximately 8.7%.
The state's spending benchmark?
3%.
That's not exactly a rounding error.
Delaware is too small, too geographically fortunate and too close to world-class medicine to shrug its shoulders and accept mediocre healthcare access.
Delawareans should not routinely feel they need to travel toward Philadelphia, Baltimore or elsewhere to obtain specialized care.
We can do better.
But None of Those Things Scare Me as Much as Mediocrity
Crime concerns me.
Homelessness concerns me.
Healthcare concerns me.
Taxes concern me.
Business competitiveness concerns me.
The disappearance of independent restaurants concerns me.
But none of those may be Delaware's greatest long-term threat.
Complacency is.
The willingness to settle.
The acceptance of mediocrity.
The shrug.
"That's just Delaware."
"What are you gonna do?"
"It's always been like that."
"Nothing is going to change."
I hate those sentences.
Because resignation is how communities slowly decline.
You don't wake up one morning and discover everything suddenly fell apart.
There isn't an emergency announcement:
ATTENTION DELAWARE RESIDENTS: YOUR STATE WILL BEGIN DECLINING MONDAY AT 8:00 A.M.
It happens incrementally.
One business closes.
One family leaves.
One doctor moves.
One neighborhood deteriorates.
One independent restaurant disappears.
One more person decides getting involved isn't worth the headache.
One talented young person graduates and decides opportunity exists somewhere else.
One shooting barely makes the news.
One homeless person becomes invisible.
One taxpayer gives up.
One generation accepts less than the generation before it.
Eventually abnormal becomes normal.
Then everyone looks around and asks:
"How the hell did we get here?"
One shrug at a time.
That's how.
Save the Political Talking Points
I already know what happens when an article like this gets shared.
Someone will blame Democrats.
Someone will blame Republicans.
Someone will blame the governor.
Someone will blame the previous governor.
Someone will blame Wilmington.
Someone will blame New Castle County.
Someone will blame people moving down from Pennsylvania.
Someone will blame people moving over from New Jersey.
Somebody will blame Donald Trump.
Somebody will blame Joe Biden.
Someone will somehow blame COVID.
And because this is Delaware, someone will probably find a way to involve the Route 1 tolls.
Knock yourselves out.
I'm not interested.
Because while everybody is trying to figure out which political jersey they're supposed to wear, actual Delawareans still have to live here.
This isn't red versus blue.
It's Delaware versus mediocrity.
This isn't political for me.
It's personal.
Because I Know Another Delaware
Here's what makes this entire conversation hurt.
I know how extraordinary Delaware can be.
I've watched Delaware police officers walk toward situations most people would run from.
I've watched Delaware firefighters risk their lives for complete strangers.
I've watched EMTs and paramedics work miracles on terrible days.
I've watched nurses hold people's hands when their families couldn't get there.
I've watched doctors carry losses home.
I've watched dispatchers calmly manage chaos while nobody sees their faces.
I've watched therapists answer calls at ridiculous hours because someone desperately needed help.
I've watched business owners quietly help families who couldn't afford groceries.
I've watched communities raise money overnight for people they barely knew.
I've watched Delawareans rally around families after fires, shootings, deaths and unimaginable tragedies.
I've watched Delawareans take care of Delawareans.
That Delaware still exists.
That's the Delaware I remember.
That's the Delaware I love.
And that's precisely why I'm unwilling to lower my expectations for it.
What I Want for Delaware
I want safer neighborhoods.
I want a Delaware where four people being shot on a Tuesday morning is absolutely shocking—not another notification people swipe away on their phones.
I want a Delaware where 40 shell casings in a residential neighborhood and 29 people endangered by one incident produces outrage rather than another momentary headline.
I want road rage to end with somebody calling another driver an idiot—not a family planning a funeral.
I want people working an overnight shift at a convenience store to reasonably expect that their biggest problem will be a broken coffee machine—not someone allegedly swinging a knife at them.
I want police officers supported while communities continue demanding accountability and excellence.
I want firefighters, EMTs and dispatchers properly supported.
I want healthcare professionals protected.
I want homeless people treated like human beings while we aggressively address the conditions keeping people homeless.
I want homeless children housed.
I want mental-health treatment accessible.
I want businesses fighting to come to Delaware, not wondering whether another state wants them more.
I want corporations choosing Delaware because Delaware remains the best—not simply because Delaware always was.
I want homeowners to feel they can afford to remain in the communities they helped build.
I want doctors and healthcare professionals to want to stay in Delaware.
I want world-class healthcare in a state sitting in the middle of one of America's greatest medical corridors.
I want independent restaurants packed on Friday nights.
I want family restaurants handed from one generation to another.
I want Delaware families sitting around those tables.
I want neighborhoods to have identities.
I want people to know their neighbors.
I want Delaware kids believing their futures can be built in Delaware.
I want excellence expected.
And perhaps most importantly:
I want Delaware to stop settling.
Delaware Will Always Be Home
Maybe that's why this bothers me so much.
You don't become disappointed in something you don't care about.
You become disappointed because you remember what it was, you see what it could be, and you desperately want those two things to meet again.
I left Delaware 11 years ago.
But Delaware never completely left me.
My family is there.
My businesses are there.
My practice is there.
My professional roots are there.
My memories are there.
Some of the greatest moments of my life happened there.
Some of the worst moments of my life happened there too.
I've laughed there.
I've cried there.
I've raised children there.
I've built businesses there.
I've treated patients there.
I've taught there.
I've helped people through trauma there.
I've responded to tragedies there.
I've watched people die there.
And I've watched people somehow put shattered lives back together there.
Delaware is home.
So when I criticize Delaware, understand something:
I'm not throwing rocks at somebody else's house.
I'm yelling because I smell smoke coming from mine.
And when you love your home, you don't stand across the street saying:
"Well, I'm sure somebody will eventually handle that."
You do something.
You demand something.
You expect something.
You don't celebrate your home's failures.
You don't abandon it.
But you don't pretend its problems aren't there either.
My Heart Breaks Because I Still Believe
Yes.
My heart breaks for Delaware.
Not because Delaware is hopeless.
Quite the opposite.
My heart breaks because Delaware has too much potential to accept mediocrity.
We are better than road-rage murders.
We are better than shootings becoming background noise.
We are better than teenagers being both the victims and accused perpetrators of deadly violence.
We are better than dozens of rounds being fired around occupied homes.
We are better than workers having to physically restrain an alleged knife-wielding attacker while simply trying to do their jobs.
We are better than children experiencing homelessness.
We are better than mediocre healthcare access.
We are better than communities becoming indistinguishable collections of drive-thrus.
We are better than businesses wondering whether somewhere else might appreciate them more.
We are better than shrugging our shoulders and saying:
"Good enough."
Because good enough eventually becomes mediocre.
Mediocre eventually becomes dysfunctional.
And dysfunctional eventually becomes normal.
Unless somebody decides normal isn't good enough anymore.
I believe there are enough good people, strong families, dedicated first responders, talented healthcare professionals, passionate business owners, stubborn community leaders and fiercely proud Delawareans left to change the trajectory.
But we have to expect more.
More from our institutions.
More from our elected leaders—regardless of party.
More from our businesses.
More from our healthcare systems.
More from our communities.
More from our families.
And perhaps most importantly—
more from ourselves.
Delaware will always be my home state.
I will always love it.
I will always defend the incredible people who live and work there.
I will celebrate every piece of progress Delaware makes.
And I'm still rooting like hell for it.
But loving something doesn't require pretending its problems don't exist.
Sometimes love requires exactly the opposite.
Sometimes you have to look at something you deeply care about and say:
"What the hell are you doing?"
And then immediately follow it with:
"I know you can do better."
That's where I am with Delaware.
I'm not giving up on my home state.
Not even close.
I just want Delaware to stop accepting good enough.
I want Delaware to remember what it is capable of becoming.
I want Delaware to demand excellence again.
And maybe most of all—
I want Delaware to start rooting for itself again.
Delaware, we can do better.
Now let's prove it.
— Dennis
