I was a student at Johnson Park Elementary School, directly next door to Lindhurst High School. My school was having campus clean up the day Eric Houston went on his shooting spree. Two friends and I were at the fence passage between the two schools, when we heard the gunshots. They were deafening. When we realized what was happening, we hit the ground, not sure what to do next. We lay there, listening to shot after shot, for about 45 minutes, when one of the teachers realized we were not with our class. She ran out across the field, and helped us inside. We lay on the floor for what seemed like hours, waiting, and listening. Only after we were escorted out of class, and sent to the front of the school, and then home, did I realize what I had experienced. I understood, at a very young age, that with the loud, nauseating blast of a gun, I was hearing another person's life being taken. I still remember that sound, like it was only five minutes ago. That day, I was sent to my grandfather's house after being released from school. He was neighbors with Judy Davis' parents, and close friends with her entire family and Beamon Hill's family. That evening, when Judy's parent's came home after finding out their daughter had died, I heard her mother weeping from next door. The pain in her voice seemed to carry from her house over to me. I had realized at a very early age that, we lived in a world where the young and innocent are no safer and have no longer a life expectancy than the old or evil.

As for my two friends who were with me that day, one of them is nowhere to be found as of her 18th birthday, and the other committed suicide after her brother was killed in a drunk driving accident about 5 years later. As for me, I am doing fine. I have been in therapy for post traumatic distress since Lindhurst, though the worst symptom did not effect me until I became a mother, actually. I am married with a teenage step-son who is now in high school, and my biggest fear is that I may someday be the woman next door grieving and screaming. The thought has never left my mind, and it never will. I shared with my son the experience I had at Lindhurst, and he is very aware of the dangers other people, including other kids, can pose. It is sad that he lives with that sliver of fear everyday, but at least he is aware, and knows to act immediately if he ever hears that something like this may happen at his school. Thank you again for listening. I have only talked to my husband, son, and therapist about this, and I feel like it may be time to let the world know. Maybe it will help others.

Well, I just wanted to share my experience of Lindhurst High School with you, and to tell you that I appreciate that you put in the effort to get the story from those involved. I think that mine, along with many others', should be heard. When we share these things with others, it helps those who go through similar things to know that they are not the only ones, and that life continues, even after tragedy. Thank you, J