Columbine
He headed down the staircase into the commons at 11:44. Dylan followed closely behind. Eric stopped on the landing halfway down. He knelt and placed his rifle barrel on the railing to improve his accuracy. Backpacks were scattered everywhere, but Eric knew which duffel bag was his. He fired. The boys were easily within the blast area, and they were well aware of that fact. Twenty-five minutes into the massacre, Eric made his second attempt to initiate the main event, and his first attempt at suicide. He failed again.
Eric gave up. He walked directly to the bomb, with Dylan behind him. Dylan tried to fiddle with it. That failed, too. Kids were visible under some of the tables. The killers ignored them. Lots of drinks had been left on the tables, and the killers tipped back a few. "Today the world's going to come to an end," one of them said. "Today's the day we die."
The surveillance cameras picked up their movements in the commons. Their body language was vastly different than what witnesses in the library described. Their shoulders drooped, and they walked slowly. The excitement had drained out of them; the bravado was gone. Eric had also broken his nose. He was in severe pain.
They left the cafeteria after two and a half minutes. On the way out, Dylan tossed a Molotov cocktail at the big bombs--one last attempt to set them off. Another failure. Several kids felt the blast and ran.
The boys drifted about the school: upstairs and down again. They surveyed the damage in the commons. It was pathetic. The Molotov started a small fire that burned the duffel bag off one of the bombs and ignited some of the fuel strapped to it, but the propane tank was impervious. The fire set off the sprinkler system across the room. The boys had been going for an inferno; they caused a flood.
The killers were apparently out of ideas. They'd expected to be dead by now, but never planned how. The cops were supposed to take care of that. Eric predicted he'd be shot in the head. No one had obliged.
They had two essential choices: suicide or surrender. Eric would sooner die. He idolized Medea for going down in flames, but couldn't ignite his fire.
A cornered psychopath will often attempt "suicide by cop": an aggressive provocation to force the police to shoot. Eric and Dylan could have ended it dramatically by charging the perimeter. It would have been glorious. But it would take tremendous courage.
Eric craved self-determination. Dylan just wanted a way out. Alone, he might well have been talked down. He had been promising suicide for two years and never brought himself near it. He never had a partner to guide him out.
At noon, they returned to the library. Why end it there? Act III was about to commence. The car bombs were set to blow. Ambulances had massed around Dylan's BMW as planned. A triage unit was busy nearby. Limbs would fill the air, just like Eric's drawings. The library windows were set up like skyboxes. Eric and Dylan most likely chose the library, not just because of the carnage there already, but for a better view.
They found the room quite different than they'd left it twenty-four minutes before. Human decay begins rapidly. The first thing to assault them was probably smell. Blood is rich in iron, so large volumes emit a strong metallic smell. The average body contains five quarts. Several gallons had pooled on the carpet, coagulating into a reddish brown gelatin, with irregular black speckles. Aerosolized droplets dry quickly, so the spatters were black and crusty. Stray globs of brain matter would soon be solid as concrete. They would be scraped off with putty knives and the stubborn chunks melted down with steam-injection machines.
The killers had left the library in turmoil: shots, screams, explosions, and forty-two teens moaning, gasping, and praying. The commotion had ceased, replaced by the piercing fire alarm. The smoke cleared; a warm breeze floated through the blown-out windows. Twelve bodies shared the room with them. Two were breathing: Patrick Ireland and Lisa Kreutz had been fading in and out of consciousness, unable to move. Four staff hid in rooms farther back. Ten corpses had passed through pallor mortis, and livor mortis was setting in. The skin had gone white and purplish splotches were now appearing as the remaining blood settled.
The boys may have been oblivious. Mass murderers often shift into an altered state, dissociated and indifferent to the horror. Some barely notice, others take a clinical curiosity in variations like eyes either bulging or retracting, the whites clouding up or mottling with red clumps. If Eric or Dylan touched their victims, they would have found the bodies cooling noticeably, but still warm and pliable.
They walked on. Eric advanced toward a center window, among the heaviest carnage. He walked past the worst of it to get there. Dylan broke away and chose a spot closer to the entrance, half a dozen window panels down. If he took a direct route, he followed one of the cleanest pathways left.
The boys inspected the army surrounding them outside. Paramedics were just then breaching the perimeter to rescue Sean, Lance, and Anne Marie. Eric opened fire. Dylan did the same. Two deputies shot back, mostly suppressive fire. The medics gave up, the boys quit. This was their only fire on humans during the thirty-two-minute quiet period. It was a classic attempt at suicide by cop: heroically dying in battle, but at a time, place, and manner of their own choosing. That failed, too.
A minute or two later, at 12:06, the first SWAT team finally entered Columbine High School, on the opposite end of the building. Eric and Dylan could not have known. They apparently waited for their cars to explode, weathered a final disappointment, and then called it a day.
Eric turned his back on the mess. He retreated to the southwest corner, one of the few unspoiled areas in the room. Dylan joined him there. It was a cozy spot near the windows, nestled between walls and bookshelves on three sides, with a mountain view. One body lay nearby. It was Patrick Ireland, gently breathing, unconscious. The boys sat down on the floor facing out at the windows. They seemed to be staying low to avoid police fire. That may seem odd given their intentions, but it's all about control. Eric propped himself against a bookshelf, just a shoulder-width to the right of Dylan and a few feet behind, watching his back.
One of them lit the rag used as a fuse on a Molotov cocktail. He set it on the table right above Patrick. Eric raised the shotgun barrel to his mouth, like the antihero of The Downward Spiral. Dylan pointed the TEC-9 at his left temple. The Molotov rag burned down.
Eric fired through the roof of his mouth, causing "evacuation of the brain." He collapsed against the books, and his torso slumped to the side. He ended that way, with his arms curled forward, as if hugging an invisible pillow. Dylan's blast knocked him flat on his back and strewed brain matter across Eric's left knee. Dylan's head came to rest just beside it.
A lot of blood spilled, but less than their victims'. Eric and Dylan blew out their medullas, the brain center that controls involuntary functions. Their hearts stopped almost instantly. Medically, "bleeding" ceased. Gravity took over and they leaked. Dylan's blood soaked into Eric's pant leg.
The Molotov blew. It started a small fire. It also spilled Eric's crude napalm over the tabletop and sealed a lump of his brain underneath. That detail would prove the boys died just before the eruption. The alarm system detected the fire and recorded the time as 12:08.
The sprinklers put it out and drenched the boys. Blood drained from their skulls and oxidized like blackened halos.
Three hours later, police found Eric crumpled, Dylan sprawled leisurely. His legs flopped over to the side, one knee atop the other, ankles crossed. One arm draped across his stomach, underlining the word emblazoned on his black T-shirt. His head lay back, mouth open, jaw slack. Blood trickled out the corners, toward his ears. He looked serene. The red letters on his chest screamed wrath.
53. At the Broken Places
It took eight and a half years to erect the permanent memorial. In 2006, the fund hit 70 percent of its reduced budget, permitting construction to begin. An event was planned for the groundbreaking in June--to honor the dead, and to publicize the $300,000 outstanding. Bill Clinton flew in. Two thousand mourners turned out.
Dawn Anna read the thirteen
names. "We're here because we love them," she said. "We're here as a family and as a community that's been through the darkest of days and is coming through to the light."
Thunderheads rolled in and opened up on the crowd. Scattered umbrellas popped up, but most people were caught unaware. Nobody moved. They didn't care.
This was Republican country, but Clinton's introduction drew wild applause. These people were proud to host an American president.
"I am here today because millions of Americans were changed by Columbine," he said. "It was one of the darkest days Hillary and I had in the White House. We wept, we prayed."
Right before his appearance, she'd called from the Senate, he said--"Just to remind me of what we did that day. This was a momentous event in the history of the country. And every parent [was] left feeling helpless, even the president."
He had watched the survivors evolve, Clinton said. He compared them to his colleague, Max Cleland, who'd left both legs and one arm in Vietnam. It was a struggle for Max to dress every morning. He could have resented the thousands who came back unscathed or who'd avoided the draft, like him, Clinton said. What a waste that would be. Cleland ran for the Senate and represented Georgia for six years. He was fond of quoting Ernest Hemingway, and Clinton recited his favorite passage: "The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places."
"Every day, from now on, the world will break someone," Clinton added. "These magnificent families, in memory of their children, and their teacher, can help them always to be strong."
____
Patrick Ireland proposed to Kacie, the girl he'd met his first night at CSU. They would never have met, he pointed out, if he had not been shot.
They married on an August afternoon. Six bridesmaids in rose red gowns walked the aisle of an ornate Catholic church.
Mr. D came. He was struck by the sight of Patrick standing at the altar with no physical support. He was also taken aback by the number of classmates involved. It was a familiar pattern. For twenty years, he had watched alumni drift away from their high school buds, but the two thousand survivors stuck close.
Patrick walked out gracefully and composed. Mr. D wiped off a tear. Patrick's doctor from Craig was there, still incredulous. So was Laura, the girl Patrick had been afraid to ask to prom.
The wedding party took a month of ballroom dance lessons to prepare for the reception. Patrick spun Kacie across the floor. They waltzed and two-stepped and did the fox-trot. They closed out the first dance with a deep dip. Patrick joined his mother for "Because You Loved Me." Diane Warren wrote the song to her father for encouraging her when no one else believed. Kathy teared up quietly in her son's arms.
____
Former agent Dwayne Fuselier was still being asked to address law enforcement groups and teachers' conventions. They still wanted to know why? Fuselier kept agreeing to speak, insisting each presentation would be the last.
He continues to teach hostage negotiators in the Third World. He finds a lot more time for golf, and his mind wanders occasionally to Eric and Dylan--with no satisfaction, because the ending never changes.
Both his sons graduated from college and launched successful careers.
He still hopes to interview Eric and Dylan's parents.
____
Brad and Misty Bernall resettled nearby in New Mexico. They are much happier there.
She Said Yes was reissued in two paperback formats, a library edition, and an audiobook. It has sold over a million copies. The Web is loaded with sites unabashedly recounting the myth. Cassie's youth pastor was right: the church stuck with the story.
Local churches felt a surge following Columbine. Attendance spiked, fervor was unprecedented. It faded. Pastors reported no long-term impact.
____
The Harrises and Klebolds remained secluded. The Harrises eventually sold their house, but remained in the area. The Klebolds have not moved. In July of 2006, Dylan's older brother, Byron, got married.
____
Kids at Columbine stopped using the word as the name of a massacre. It became just a high school again. Smokers returned to chatting up adult strangers who strolled through Clement Park near their pit. It did not occur to them to be afraid.
When a journalist stopped by to assess the return to normalcy, they were puzzled. Why would anyone be interested in their boring school? They really didn't know. Their faces lit up when they discovered he was from the city. What were the clubs like? Had he been to Colfax Avenue? Were there really strip clubs and winos and hookers there?
Of course they remembered the tragedy. What an awful day. Their grade schools were locked down, everyone was scared. Several had had older siblings trapped in the high school. Their parents had been upset for months. So what was Denver like?
____
Mr. D had two grandchildren. His son settled into a career and his daughter got engaged. Frank didn't let Diane Meyer get away the second time. After his divorce, they reunited in person. She was just as funny as in high school. Same blue eyes, same insightful mind and selflessness. "Someone to lean on," Frank said. They began dating again. On Christmas Eve 2003, Frank asked her to marry him. She said yes. They remain engaged.
Mr. D informed his students he planned to retire. He will stay through graduation in 2012, or 2013. He will be fifty-seven or fifty-eight. He's not sure what he'll do then. Golf, travel, enjoy.
____
Linda Sanders pulled out of her depression. She still has rough days, but not so often. By 2008, she was dating again.
____
The memorial felt like the final step. One last controversy marred its completion. In the spring of 2007, as bulldozers carved out the site on the back slope of Rebel Hill, Brian Rohrbough went to battle with the memorial committee. An inner Ring of Remembrance honored the Thirteen in a special way. The larger Ring of Healing that surrounded it would bear quotes from students, teachers, friends, neighbors--everyone touched by the tragedy, whether or not a bullet actually pierced their skin. Each of the thirteen families was allocated a space on the inner ring for a large inscription in the brown marble to remember their child, father, or spouse. They were asked to keep it tasteful and respectful.
Twelve and a half families agreed. Sue Petrone and Brian Rohrbough submitted separate inscriptions for Danny, to be run side by side. Sue described her boy's blue eyes, engaging smile, and infectious laugh. Brian submitted an angry rant blaming Columbine on a godless school system in a nation that legalized abortion where authorities lied and covered up their crimes. He ended with a biblical quote, declaring, There is no peace for the wicked.
The committee asked Brian to tone it down. He refused. Both sides agreed to keep the wording confidential, but the gist of the dispute leaked. It caused yet another firestorm in Colorado. The public was split. A standoff ensued. Nobody wanted an angry tirade inside the Ring of Remembrance. The committee had the power to stop it. Brian dared them to do it.
It was no contest. Even after eight years, nothing trumped a grieving dad.
____
The Columbine memorial was dedicated on a sunny afternoon in September 2007. A few thousand visitors filed quietly past the inner wall. There was no ruckus over the angry inscription. It did not draw more onlookers than the other twelve, even out of curiosity. There was no discernible reaction. No one seemed to care.
Patrick Ireland spoke on behalf of the injured. "The shootings were an event that occurred," he said. "But it did not define me as a person. It did not set the tone for the rest of my life."
Thirteen doves were released. Seconds later, two hundred more fluttered free--an arbitrary number, to signify everyone else. They scattered up in all directions. For a moment, they seemed to fill the entire sky. Then they found one another and coalesced into a single flock, a massive white cloud weaving from left to right and back again, against the clear blue sky.
Timeline: Before
SOPHOMORE YEAR
January 1997 The missions begin.
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February 28, 1997 Wayne Harris starts his journal.
March 31, 1997 Dylan starts his journal.
Summer 1997 Eric and Dylan start at Blackjack; build first pipe bomb.
July 23, 1997 Dylan first mentions killing in his journal--possibly figuratively.
August 7, 1997 Eric's Web site is reported to the police. It lists his "I HATE" rants.
JUNIOR YEAR
October 2, 1997 Eric, Dylan, and Zack are suspended for breaking into lockers.
November 3, 1997 Dylan first mentions a killing spree in his journal.
Unknown Eric and Dylan steal from the school computer room.
January 30, 1998 Eric and Dylan are arrested for breaking linto a van.
February 15, 1998 Deputies find a pipe bomb near Eric's house.
February 16, 1998 Eric begins seeing a psychiatrist and soon starts taking Zoloft.
Spring 1998* Eric's dad catches him with a pipe bomb.
March 18, 1998 Dylan warns Brooks Brown about Eric's death threats.
March 19, 1998 Eric and Dylan conduct their intake interview for the Diversion program.
March 25, 1998 Eric and Dylan are formally sentenced in court.
April 1998 Investigator Guerra drafts an affidavit for a warrant to search Eric's house.
April 8, 1998 Eric receives his Diversion program contract.
April 10, 1998 Eric begins his journal.
by May 9, 1998 Eric and Dylan outline the attack, write about it in each other's yearbook.
May 14, 1998 Eric has switched from Zoloft to Luvox.
SENIOR YEAR
October 22, 1998 Eric begins pipe bomb arsenal production; resumes journal writing the next day.
November 13, 1998 Eric turns in his paper on Nazis.
November 17, 1998 Eric describes his sadistic rape fantasies in his journal.