columbine-victim

5

On June 13, 2001 Tom Mauser was arrested on “Misdemeanor Trespass” because he was fed up and frustrated with NRA on his request about Gun Violence. He marched with a sign that said “My son Daniel died at Columbine, He would expect me to be here today" He soon moved on the NRA property were he sat in front of NRA Office and continued to march with his picket sign,

They called the police and told him to leave their property but Tom refused so they arrested him in cuffs and put him in the patrol car. Tom spent an hour in a jail cell with 18 other men and soon was bailed out.

3

“Hopefully, Death Is Like Being In A Dream State.”

2

“She was asking me not to make us late all the time and so we were kind of back and forth in an argument, and we pull up to the school and I got out of the car and I turned and I looked at her, and then I slammed the car door shut. I walked into school and had no idea that’d be the last time that I’d see Rachel alive.”

- Craig Scott, Rachel Scott’s brother. 

The Basement Tapes

April 20th, 1999 tape - roughly 30 minutes before the attack

Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold are once more in the family room of the Harris home. Eric is filming. Dylan is wearing a black baseball cap on backward, exposing a “B” embroidered in white on the back of the hat - the Boston Red Sox logo. He’s wearing a plaid shirt, either dark blue or black with white; the shirt’s untucked. He’s wearing black BDUs (military-style pants) tucked into military-style boots. There are several bags on the floor, including a large maroon one.

Eric: “Say it now.”

Dylan: “Hey mom. Gotta go. It’s about a half an hour before our little judgment day. I just wanted to apologize to you guys for any crap this might instigate as far as (inaudible) or something. Just know I’m going to a better place. I didn’t like life too much and I know I’ll be happy wherever the fuck I go. So I’m gone. Good-bye. Reb…”

Dylan takes the camera then and begins filming Eric. Eric’s also wearing a plaid shirt that’s either dark blue or black with white, with a white t-shirt on underneath. His lower half can’t be seen.

Eric: “Yea… Everyone I love, I’m really sorry about all this. I know my mom and dad will be just like.. just fucking shocked beyond belief. I’m sorry, all right. I can’t help it.”

Dylan: (interrupts) “We did what we had to do.”

Eric: “Morris, Nate, if you guys live, I want you guys to have whatever you want from my room and the computer room.”

Dylan adds that they can have his things as well.

Eric: “Susan, sorry. Under different circumstances it would’ve been a lot different. I want you to have that fly CD.”

Eric: (eventually) “That’s it. Sorry. Goodbye.”

Dylan: (sticks his face in the camera) “Goodbye.”

The tape ends with a brief glimpse of a sign on the wall of Eric’s bedroom, someone’s arm partially blocking it from sight. It’s the letters: CHS along with a drawing of a bomb with a lit fuse and, in bold black letters, the word “clue”.

4

“It’s like I have a heavy heart and this burden upon my back. There is something in me that makes me want to cry.. and I don’t even know what it is.“ (April 20th, 1998)

“This will be my last year, Lord. I have gotten what I can. Thank you.” (May 2nd, 1998)

 “It isn’t suicide, I consider it homicide. The world you have created has lead to my death.” (April 1999)

I can’t even imagine what it must have sounded like –
the alarms, the gunshots, the screams, the begging,
the praying, the laughter, the cheering, the crying.
I know the sound of Eric’s laugh. I know the sound
of Dylan’s voice. I’ve heard a fragment of a recording.
And I still can’t piece it together enough to hear the horror.

I can’t even imagine what it must have looked like –
the muzzle of a Tec-9 in your face,
the black boots walking past you as you hide under a table,
the boy in a trench-coat, in the hallway, with a shotgun.
Blood on the floor and blood exploding out of someone’s head,
and blood pouring out of a hole in someone’s back.

I can’t even imagine what it must have smelt like –
metallic blood, the stench of open wounds,
smoke from pipe bombs, shit and piss and sweat,
your own body odour, cafeteria lunch food,
linoleum floors, body spray, the inside of a toilet cubicle,
the inside of a storage cupboard, the smells of school and death.

I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like –
begging for your life at gunpoint while the killer laughs,
watching children being murdered
right in front of you, seeing TV violence in real life.
Closing your eyes and listening to people dying and begging
and crying and praying and whooping and whispering.

Realising that you might actually really die right here,
on the floor of a library, in an unlocked science room,
in a toilet stall, under the table of a cafeteria. Trying to pray
to any god listening that you want to live, please, please, please.
But what good did it do the other children? What good did it do
for the kids you heard getting killed?

Running out of the library and past a dead body and past
another dead body, with your hands above your head,
so the police don’t shoot you, of course.
Standing by a cop car with the images still playing in your head,
and the sounds of gunfire still ringing in your ears,
not knowing if your friends are dead or alive.

Being faced with cameras and reporters and microphones,
and an unending barrage of questions:
What did you see? What did you hear? How did you feel?
What happened? Do you know who the killers were? Why?
Where were you? What did you do? Did you talk to the killers?
Were you friends with the killers? Do you know the Trench Coat Mafia?

I can’t even imagine what it must have been like
to actually be a student or a teacher or a reporter or a photographer
or a cameraman or a journalist or a copy editor or an editor in chief
or a police officer or a SWAT team member or a paramedic or a nurse
or a doctor or the parent of a victim or the parent of someone injured
or a friend of a student or a bomb squad member or a family member.

We’ve all seen the chaos unfolding, live on the news.
We’ve seen the police standing behind cars and we’ve seen
students running for their lives, students bleeding on sidewalks,
parents hunting for children, parents hugging their kids,
people standing around and crying and holding one another,
ambulances racing and sirens blaring and cameras rolling,
but imagine living it.
—  Dear Columbiners, not everything is about Eric and Dylan, s.b.w.

I would like to light a candle for Cassie Bernall, Steve Curnow, Corey DePooter, Kelly Fleming, Eric Harris, Matt Kechter, Dylan Klebold, Daniel Mauser, Daniel Rohrbough, Rachel Scott, Isaiah Shoels, John Tomlin, Lauren Townsend, Kyle Velasquez and Dave Sanders. May you all have found peace wherever you are. You are not forgotten.

2

15 victims. April 20. 16 years ago.

  • Matthew Joseph Kechter (Born February 19, 1983)
  • Steven Robert Curnow (Born August 28, 1984)
  • Corey Tyler DePooter  (Born March 3, 1982)
  • Kelly Ann Fleming (Born January 6, 1983)
  • Daniel Conner Mauser (Born June 25, 1983)
  • Daniel Lee Rohrbough (Born March 2, 1984)
  • William ‘Dave’ Sanders (Born October 22, 1951)
  • Rachel Joy Scott (Born August 5, 1981)
  • Eric David Harris (Born April 9, 1981)
  • Dylan Bennet Klebold (Born September 11, 1981)
  • Isaiah Eamon Shoels (Born August 4, 1980)
  • John Robert Tomlin (Born September 1, 1982)
  • Lauren Dawn Townsend (Born January 17, 1981)
  • Kyle Albert Velasquez (Born May 5, 1982)
  • Cassie Rene Bernall (Born November 6, 1981)  

May You All Have Found Eternal Bliss. Rest In Peace, Sweet Angels. 

4/20/99 15 people died. Not 2, not 13, 15. Never Forget.

2

Greg Barnes was a Columbine High School student and basketball player. He escaped from the killers on 04/20/1999, but his close friend Matthew Kechter died that day. On 05/04/2000 Barnes hanged himself in his garage at age 17, listening to Adam’s Song by Blink 182 on repeat. No note was left.