by Elizabeth Van Brocklin

Hours after a gunman killed 58 people and injured hundreds more in Las Vegas last October, donations for victims and their families began pouring in. A GoFundMe campaign launched by local leaders would raise $11 million in three weeks. Uber gave free rides to blood-donation sites and hotels offered complimentary rooms for relatives. One group of hospitals treated 71 victims, then promised to waive all of their medical bills .

The influx of relief for mass shooting victims is not unique to Las Vegas: at least $28 million was donated after the massacre in Newtown, Connecticut; $2.4 million after San Bernardino; $31 million after Orlando.

Yet mass shootings, despite the attention they receive, are not the norm. Each year, tens of thousands of people are wounded in incidents of gun violence that have become almost routine. The injured are disproportionately young black men, who have few services specifically geared to support them in the jarring wake of violence. Some victims require extensive therapy to relearn how to write, speak, or walk. There may be follow-up surgeries to remove bullet fragments, treatment for pain and infections, and counseling for stress, anxiety, and depression. Some miss work because of their injuries, or cant work at all. Roughly one third of hospitalized gunshot patients are uninsured.

A resource does exist to help vulnerable crime victims, including gunshot survivors, though many never tap into it. Victim compensation programs in every state reimburse victims and their families for expenses like medical bills, mental health counseling, lost wages, and funeral costs. Revenue for the state-run programs comes from offender fees and fines, along with federal grants under the Victims of Crime Act, or VOCA. In 2016, compensation programs paid more than 250,000 claims totaling more than $348 million, according to federal data.

Victim advocates, anti-violence activists, and social workers interviewed by The Trace said that victims of violent crime face numerous hurdles in applying for the funds. They say that for traumatized victims, the eligibility criteria can be daunting, the applications toilsome, and processing times long. Even the most basic requirements to receive compensation, like reporting the crime to law enforcement, can deter victims, especially those from neighborhoods where distrust of the criminal justice system runs high.

Most vexing, advocates say, is that state laws that govern compensation programs can ultimately exclude people at the highest risk of being shot. While black men disproportionately experience violence , they are also more likely than whites to have been convicted of a felony, which in some states can disqualify people from receiving funds.

Victim compensation is set up to really help victims, and yet its ironic, because it often really adds to the pain that they are going through, said Alicia Boccellari, a clinical psychologist and founder of the University of California-San Franciscos Trauma Recovery Center, which provides mental health services and case management for violent crime survivors. It puts a lot of expectations on them, when they really have so few inner resources to deal with all this. Sometimes the victim ends up feeling further victimized.

As part of my ongoing reporting on gun violence , I interviewed more than two dozen gunshot survivors and loved ones of homicide victims to better understand how the compensation system fit into their experiences. About half had not applied for compensation in the first place. Several had misconceptions about the existence of compensation and how to access it. Some felt that pursuing compensation would be a waste of time one likened victim compensation to an urban legend. Others said they were denied because they did not meet their states eligibility criteria.

Kellie Cors-Atherlys 13-year-old son Todd was killed in Pleasantville, New Jersey, in 2012. She didnt know about compensation until it was too late to apply, and says she dipped into her savings in order to move to a safer neighborhood. If I would have known there was relocation money, if I would have known there was counseling money, yes, I would have applied for it, she said.

Cors-Atherly now runs a local nonprofit to support survivors of violent crime, work that includes spreading the word about compensation. A lot of the families Ive come across, they dont even recollect having someone from victim compensation reach out to them, she said.

Navigating the compensation process from a wheelchair

On the morning of December 13, 2015, Ernest Edmonds, Jr., was leaving a club in Newark when, he says, a man asked him for a cigarette. According to Edmonds, the man tried to rob him, and as he fought back he heard a loud crack. Looking down, he saw red blooming through the stripes of his Houston Astros baseball jersey. He then blacked out. Hours later, police found Edmonds on the ground with a cut lip and a gunshot wound to the back. Halfway down the block, an officer discovered his hat, lighter, and watch in a pool of blood.

Edmonds, 35, awoke from a coma several weeks later to find he was paralyzed from the waist down. The bullet had pierced his back, only to be stopped by his spine.

Figure you got 32, 33 years of walking, and then youre just not walking anymore, he said Its completely different. Before the shooting, hed lived in his cousins peach-colored house in East Orange, New Jersey. Thirteen steps led to the front porch. Then two more flights to reach his bedroom. Now reliant on a wheelchair, Edmonds wondered, How am I going to do this?

At the physical rehabilitation center, Edmonds heard there was financial assistance for crime victims like him. He searched online and found a phone number for New Jerseys Victims of Crime Compensation Office. In his state, eligible victims may receive up to $2,500 in relocation expenses, and up to 104 weeks of lost earnings, among other benefits.

Edmonds says he would use the money to pay for his own place and make up for lost income. I need it so much, he said. It could help me getting into a wheelchair-accessible apartment. It could help with a lot of backed-up bills. I cant do for my kids like I used to. Since he was a teenager, Edmonds worked for a family-operated construction business, where he said he made around $650 per week. He now has to make a$766.25 disability check last the whole month.