It has been five years since the massacre at Parkland’s Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School claimed 17 lives, an observance that is different from previous ones.
This milestone is the first since loved ones of those lost were able to leave the very public stage that has been their cage since Feb. 14, 2018.
While there are cases related to the shooting still moving through the legal system, the prosecution and sentencing of the killer concluded 15 weeks ago. This ended five years of high-profile investigations, legal controversies and political debate that kept the victims’ families in the news and their faces on screens seen by both neighbors and strangers around the world — a cycle of pain and frustration on top of unthinkable grief.
For most of the families, this ended their time as reluctant public figures in the harsh glare of the media spotlight: No longer will they feel obligated to endure courtrooms, cameras and questions from reporters.
They have begun to live private lives as best they can. The lives tragedy has left them with for the rest of their days.
The final time the families gathered at the Broward County Courthouse in Fort Lauderdale, on Nov. 2, was to offer personal statements before Broward Circuit Judge Elizabeth Scherer imposed a sentence on the killer. This would be their final public group appearance related to the case.
With raw, emotional expressions, they spoke — many who had rarely if ever been heard from — holding a light to illuminate lives cut short and brighter days as they remembered them, while also describing what it means to exist, day by day, in endless sorrow.
Scherer was astonished: “The way that you have grieved so gracefully is something I have never seen. ... When people remember that school, they are going to remember the strength of that community.”
There is no right way to grieve after the horror of Valentine’s Day 2018. It can be done with grace, or rage, or a complicated combination of both.
We seem to have reached the moment when mass shootings are an accepted fact of American life going forward: There have been 63 shootings with four or more dead and injured in the first six weeks of 2023, according to the Gun Violence Archive.
With each victim, there are concentric circles of anguish — in Parkland, the 17 dead and 17 injured each had family members, friends, teachers, coaches, mentors, mentees whose lives will never be the same. Then there are teachers, police officers, paramedics, doctors, nurses and others who have been changed by what they cannot unsee.
If we are going to be a nation in a perpetual state of grief, the final public statements of the Parkland families may offer a guide for the future on how to endure in the wake of such horror.
‘I wish no peace for you’
Lt. Ines Hixon, a Navy pilot, held the hand of husband Tommy as she addressed the court and the killer on Nov. 1. She described being on an aircraft carrier off the coast of Iran when she got the news that Tommy’s father, Stoneman Douglas High School athletic director and Navy veteran Chris Hixon, was dead.
“As I stood and stared off the coast of Iran, and defended everyone in this country through my service, I thought I was the one in danger. But it was my family being slain back home,” she said. “I took an oath to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. And, to the defendant, that is exactly what I view you as, a domestic terrorist.”
But in her tearful but disciplined outrage, Hixon also shared moments of mercy, recounting a conversation with her husband: “(He) said, ‘I just wish the killer had talked to my dad. I wish he had reached out to him, because my dad would have shown him the love that he so desperately needed. My dad would have given him the guidance and support that every other person failed to give him.’”
She continued, addressing the shooter across the room: “I wish no peace for you. I wish nothing but pain, and I hope you remember that every breath you take is a breath that you stole. You stole Chris from us, but we will honor his memory every single day. So, in a sense, you also at least gave us that gift.”
‘I’m not a coward’
Meghan Petty, older sister of Alaina Petty, spoke forcefully about the court’s rejection of the death penalty for the shooter, saying the jury had provided “sick, twisted little freaks” a how-to manual on getting away with mass murder.
“I was bullied in school. I’ve lost 15 family members and loved ones since I turned 9 to sickness, suicide, accident and now murder,” she said. “Not once have I ever turned to hurting others as a solution to make me feel better. Because I’m not a coward, and I’m not weak.”
The months she spent in court during the prosecution and sentencing of her sister’s killer required even more strength, she said.
“I have re-lived Alaina’s murder in this courtroom. No one that’s up here right now can imagine what it’s like to have a little sister murdered, and you cannot begin to understand the depth of pain that it is to relive it in a very public setting, surrounded by strangers. I have heard the gunshots that killed her through the speakers in here,” she said.
“I have tried to turn the other cheek so many times and stay strong throughout Alaina’s murder and everything related to this case afterward. So much so that I feel my cheeks are bleeding. But I’m still here, trying to do the right thing and stick up for her memory.”
‘I was rooting for you’
Victoria Gonzalez, the girlfriend of Stoneman Douglas student Joaquin Oliver, delivered one of the more remarkable statements, revealing the sad intimacy that is unique to shootings in a school or workplace.
She began by translating the words on the T-shirt she was wearing, which read “Tu Con Balas, Yo Con Bolas,” meaning “You With Bullets, I With Balls.” The shirt with the anti-gun, pro-sports message belonged to her boyfriend, who wore it the night before he was shot and killed, she said.
Gonzalez reminded the shooter that he sat in the row next to her in one class, and reminded him of the teacher’s daily routine of walking down the aisle and asking each student a question from the homework assignment to make sure it was done.
“I remember, every day, when he’d get to you, I was crossing my fingers under my desk, thinking, ‘Man, I hope he has it today. Man, I hope he’s doing something good for himself. I hope that he’s succeeding.’ I was rooting for you. You had no idea who I was, but I was rooting for you, because I felt like you needed someone or you needed something. I could feel that. I felt how alone you might have felt,” she said, eyes moist but somehow managing a warm smile.
“Maybe I’m wrong. My softness has been my protection. Maybe it’s hurt me, but I’ve empathized with you. And I’ve blamed society for creating the hatred in you,” she said. “I can’t anymore. … Now, I’m very alone. I’m very isolated, and I can’t make friends, and I can’t build relationships. I can’t let someone love me. How can someone love someone who’s afraid of life? I don’t feel safe, and that’s because of you.”
Of her boyfriend, she told the killer: “I wish you would have met Joaquin, because he would have been your friend. He would have extended a hand to you. He would have loved you. And I say that, and whoever is going to be upset with me is going to be upset with me, but he would have loved you as a human being. … I’m sorry that you never saw the love that the world is capable of giving.”
‘We had to be quiet’
Jennifer Guttenberg, who lost 14-year-old daughter Jaime, spoke in response to Broward County Public Defender Gordon Weekes’ statement that “nobody had to endure what this defense team had to endure.”
“Let me just tell everybody what our families have had to endure,” Guttenberg said, husband Fred at her side. “For those of you who don’t know, there were many rules and restrictions for our families. We were not to wear colors, like orange for my daughter, or advertising types of clothing or gear related to our loved ones. We weren’t to have major reactions or facial expressions from what was being said. We had to be quiet. …
“Whether in the courtroom or watching from elsewhere, we sat through this entire trial respectfully. We tried not to react while videos of our loved ones were shown to the jury. We tried not to react when the medical examiner described their horrific injuries. We tried not to react as we were verbally taken through the crime scene, step by step,” she said.
“We are sad, hurt, lonely, empty and horrified. But we are strong, caring and respectful. Each of us has done our share to try to do positive things every day, regardless of how our lives have been ruined. We have endured the unthinkable, and then the nonsense of this trial, including the blatant disrespect of this defense team, and now Mr. Weekes. This is a club that nobody wants to be in, but I’m glad my club is, at least, with these amazing people,” she said, gesturing to families in the courtroom.
“Let me remind everyone again, as other people have, who’s important here: Jaime Guttenberg, my beautiful daughter, Nicholas Dworet, Luke Hoyer, Joaquin Oliver, Gina Montalto, Alaina Petty, Cara Loughran, Meadow Pollack, Alex Schachter, Peter Wang, Martin Duque, Carmen Schentrup, Helena Ramsay, Alyssa Alhadeff, Chris Hixon, Scott Beigel and Aaron Feis, along with the 17 injured and thousands of others affected. I never want to hear the killer’s name again. Let us remember the victims and their legacy. My daughter is Jaime Guttenberg. She is forever 14. And she is amazing, still.”
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