Hi all… My name is Keaton Belliston, and I was shot and paralyzed on January 3rd, 2012.

I’ll describe the story of my injury, but first I’ll explain why I need financial help now, over a decade since my injury.



Until just recently, I’ve had financial help/assistance from a service called Victims of Crime (Nevada). They were there to pick up whatever insurance couldn’t cover, as well as provide funding for home and vehicle modifications that would otherwise cost thousands of dollars. I was always assured this was a limitless service, as my injury falls under the category of catastrophic. Because we were told it was limitless, we never took full advantage of what was offered, because we knew we could ask for assistance later. I was (and still am) gutted to see that my claim had expired/closed because of policies that were never disclosed to me.

Furthermore, I’ve been stuck inside for the past few years to avoid covid. As I work hard to get my life back to normal, my personal car remains sitting in the garage. I’ve recently had hand controls installed in my mom’s vehicle, but the high costs have put a massive strain on my household (myself, my mom, and brother). I’m also currently the only person in my family that can drive, due to my mom’s own medical issues affecting her vision. The more help I can get restoring my independence, the easier it is for me to take care of my family in return.

I’m hoping to get assistance to relieve that strain — allowing me to focus on my goals of:

• Replacing my 12 year old wheelchair (supposed to be replaced every 5 years)

• Repairing my car (general maintenance like new tires, engine mounts, belts, etc)

• Dental work (due to medication side effects like dry mouth causing unavoidable cavities)

• Resuming university (already completed a year and a half at University of Utah, even making the Dean’s List)

…and one day designing adaptive equipment to help others in need.

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My full story can be easily viewed here on my Twitter, or below:



I was 18 when 2012 rolled around. I had lived in Vegas for most of my life and was working at a grocery store while I figured out life after high school. Skateboarding and cars were lifelong obsessions.

My daily routine almost always involved going to my local skatepark, either alone or with a group of friends. I loved the focus that skating offered, a nice distraction from the often-pointless drama that a teen goes through.



The skatepark was split by a fence between a concrete bowl and a repurposed roller rink. On this particular day, the rink was far too busy whilst the bowl was practically deserted. My two friends and I decided that was perfect for us, so we skated over.

Around 6pm, maybe an hour of skating later, we were approached by two young guys. The younger of the two lifted a pistol towards us and demanded we give them everything.

Despite handing them what little we had, they became agitated and refused to leave. After pleading with them, the older one finally encouraged his armed accomplice to retreat with him.

As the thieves ran to the exit, the gunman stopped and his handgun lifted towards us.

I was hit before I could realize what was happening, but the wannabe thug still fired every shot he had at us.

I stared at the stadium lighting overhead, unable to move. While bullets were still flying, one friend dragged me behind cover while the other ran for help. Both of my friends did everything they could to ensure my survival, at risk of their own. I consider both of them my brothers to this day.

As the gunmen escaped, everybody in the park swarmed over to my location, in shock and having no idea how to assist. I’d later learn that a resident of the nearest apartment block ran over to hold my head and apply pressure amid the chaos and gawking.

As I laid there until the ambulance approached, I kept asking my friends to stop lifting my legs up. They assured me that my legs were untouched.

I would later realize that was just what paralysis felt like.

Once in the ambulance, my only thoughts were how worried my mom was gonna be. I hated the knowledge that she would be getting a phone call from either the police or the hospital regarding me. We had a lot happen to us over the years, but this was the worst.

Finally in the ICU, about to possibly undergo emergency surgery if my lung did not inflate, I asked if anybody else was hit.

The answer was no. I was the only victim, and that made me incredibly happy.

I awoke hooked up with tubes, wires, and monitors, surrounded by a relentless stream of friends and family. Unsure of my chances, staff allowed far more visitors than usual. One great friend even brought in a boombox to play some classic hip-hop for encouragement.



Once stable, I learned the extent of my injuries.

I was shot in the neck with a .45 caliber hollow point bullet. The projectile collapsed my left lung before lodging itself next to my spine, severing the cord between the C7 and T1 vertebrae (referred to as a C8 injury).

The wildest and most miraculous part of the injury was the entry point.

Incredibly, the bullet somehow made it BETWEEN my carotid artery and jugular without damage, either of which would’ve been fatal.



Luckily, there was no exit wound. Being a relatively large bullet that expands after impact, I would’ve been left with a huge (again, fatal) hole in my back.

Stopping just under the skin was the best outcome. I’d later have it removed anyway.



I was also notified that the armed robbers were caught. On a spree, they robbed people from skatepark to skatepark that day. The robberies and attempted murder were found to be a gang initiation for the young gunman.

They’re both currently serving 16-45 years in prison.



In the years since, I moved to Utah for the massively improved healthcare, found a way to continue driving, and even got an opportunity to study design at the University of Utah. My dream is to build and design adaptive equipment like vehicle hand controls, helping other disabled people in the process.

It’s been a rollercoaster, but I’m looking forward to the decades to come.



Love you all.

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Below are a few older photos of myself and the independence that I’m trying to regain:


Doing maintenance on my beloved Acura Integra


Changing my own oil (with the help of my dogs)


Learning to mono-ski in the local mountains


Taking part in wheelchair rugby


Showing off the result of pushing from class to class on a hilly campus


Going on a road trip back to Vegas to visit friends and family


Kayaking with local recreational group, TRAILS


Thank you for reading.