Fireworks, Gunfire, and the Limits of Enforcement
Why a "Don’t-Mess-With-Texas-style" marketing campaign in Grand Prairie could succeed where policing can’t
On New Year’s Eve, I posted several times on my personal Facebook account, including a Facebook Live after midnight, regarding the noise from fireworks and gunshots around my house in the 75051 area code. It started around 6 pm and went almost nonstop until 2 am. I eventually posted that I was calling 911 because it sounded like the world was coming down outside of my house. While I received numerous comments of shock that it sounded that way throughout the city, I also received numerous frustrated comments, both on social media and off, that basically came down to “there’s nothing the police can do, it happens every year,” perturbed that I called 911 at all. The person probably most perturbed was the dispatcher herself.
If it’s truly believed that there’s nothing we can do about excessive fireworks and gunfire on holidays, or more specifically, if our police believe that - then why even waste time on the pretense of a city ordinance at all?
Something tells me that as our nation celebrates its 250th birthday this year, the summer of 2026 is going to be a doozy for these kind of celebrations, so it’s my opinion that it’s worth discussing as a city now, rather than waiting until July 4 to begin warning people about it.
“Nothing Can Be Done.”
When people say “there’s nothing that can be done,” what they mean is that there’s nothing the police can do in the moment. And on that point, I don’t disagree. Once fireworks or gunshots are reported, the activity is often over by the time the 911 call ends. Unless it happens directly in front of an officer and the exact location is known, there’s little practical way for police to determine where to respond. Compounding that reality is the fact that, on nights like New Year’s Eve, police are prioritizing emergencies that pose more immediate danger they can reasonably respond to—drunk drivers, assaults at parties, and other active threats. Fireworks, while disruptive and illegal, don’t rise to the same level of urgency. Even when officers do respond to a reported address, if the activity has already stopped, it’s rarely worth the time to stop and question residents.
So again, this begs the question - what’s the point of having a fireworks city ordinance at all? Ordinances are effective in two ways: 1) if they are realistically enforceable; 2) If they aren’t enforceable, residents respect them simply as a rule.
What happens when an ordinance becomes ineffective? I believe this is where we are in Grand Prairie.
In the case of people who fire off guns or shoot off fireworks illegally, they are people put 60 seconds of their own fun and excitement ahead of the elderly, scared children, scared animals, veterans, and every other neighbor living within earshot of their “celebrations.” In other words - they’re assholes. I wish there were a different label (sorry to my pastor and my parents) but there isn’t one.
Solving the A$$hole Problem - Why Ordinances Don’t Work
In the case of fireworks, the ordinance may actually contribute to the behavior. Breaking the rule becomes part of the appeal—a short burst of excitement with little perceived risk. What’s happening here is less about criminal intent and more about teenagers and adults making stupid, reckless decisions they would never tolerate in any other context. That distinction matters, because it means this problem isn’t solved by stronger enforcement—it’s solved by changing social norms. You’re not dealing with heartless criminals, you’re dealing with people acting like momentary jerks.
Texas has already faced—and solved—a problem with the same characteristics. “Don’t Mess with Texas,” launched by the Texas Department of Transportation to combat littering, addressed a behavior that was momentary, thoughtless, and nearly impossible to police in real time. TxDOT’s research also showed that young men ages 18–24 were overwhelmingly responsible for the problem.
The state didn’t respond by writing more tickets or threatening harsher penalties. Instead, it changed how people felt about the behavior. “Don’t Mess with Texas” didn’t focus on fines; it reframed littering as embarrassing, inconsiderate, and un-Texan. That shift in social perception caused people to pause before acting. To drive the message home, TxDOT featured Stevie Ray Vaughan in a commercial that aired during the Cotton Bowl on New Year’s Day in 1986—placing the message directly in front of the audience most likely to ignore a lecture but respond to cultural cues.
The message spread like wildfire because they intentionally saturated the message in media, on highway signs, through the influence of famous Texans, collaborating with businesses and in conjunction with community efforts. Before that, the state relied on “Keep Texas Beautiful,” a slogan that resonated with middle aged women who weren’t the ones littering to begin with.
A citywide campaign aimed squarely at this kind of antisocial behavior—not through enforcement, but through social pressure—could have benefits far beyond fireworks and gunfire. When enforcement is unrealistic, changing what behavior is socially acceptable is often the only lever that works. A campaign that makes it clear this conduct isn’t bold, funny, or harmless—but embarrassing and inconsiderate—has the potential to reduce a whole category of problems that laws alone struggle to control.
There’s a real opportunity here for the city and police to work through the networks that already shape local behavior. Neighborhood leaders, National Night Out organizers, Grand Prairie–based influencers, local Facebook group administrators, and media platforms like Faces of Grand Prairie already have trust and visibility in the spaces where these norms are formed. If city leadership and law enforcement partnered with those voices to create an effective campaign, the message would actually permeate the places that matter.
The people engaging in this behavior aren’t taking cues from city websites or press releases. They’re taking cues from peers, group chats, neighborhood pages, and local social feeds. When those spaces consistently communicate the same expectation—that this behavior is embarrassing, inconsiderate, and not accepted—the pressure comes from the community itself, not enforcement after the fact. That’s how messaging reaches the audience that policing alone can’t.