At a vigil in Tumbler Ridge, B.C., Friday night, just days after eight victims were killed in one of Canada’s most horrific school shootings, Elder George Desjarlais of West Moberly First Nations prayed.
Before beginning, he told the hundreds of people gathered: “We all need to join hands.”
Residents wept, hand in hand.
The prime minister, the leader of the official opposition and the governor general stood side by side, hand in hand.
Desjarlais sang for those lost and for those remaining to have the courage to pursue healing.
The terrifying and tragic shooting of Feb. 10 has devastated the small community of Tumbler Ridge, nestled in the northern foothills of the Canadian Rockies near the Alberta border.
An “instant town” built in 1981 for coal workers and their families, local legend has it the area was named after the rocks that tumbled down the slopes of a nearby mountain range.
After the mines shut down in the 2000s, the town rebranded itself as one abundant in epic adventure. Twenty-six years ago, two boys found dinosaur footprints — four-toed ankylosaur tracks — stamped into the bedrock south of town, kick starting further paleontological discovery in the geologically rich region.
Many who visit Tumbler Ridge dream of retiring to the quiet, remote community, where you can drive from the south end of town to the north in just four minutes.
The peace of Tumbler was shattered Tuesday, Feb. 10, when local RCMP got a report of an active shooter at the local high school just before 2:30 p.m. MT.
Residents were urged to shelter in place, lock doors and avoid leaving their home or work while police investigated.
Officers arrived at the school within two minutes.
What they found was horror.
Six victims died in the school. Five of them were students aged 12 and 13; the sixth, a 39-year-old education assistant.
The 18-year-old shooter, Jesse Van Rootselaar, died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound, according to police.
Police later found the shooter’s mother and half-brother dead at their family home. Police said the shooter killed her family members first, then went to the school.
Jarbas Noronha was teaching his mechanics class when a student returning to class said he had heard gunshots.
Darian Quist, a 17-year-old in Noronha’s class, said he wasn’t worried at first. He hadn’t heard anything.
Then an alarm went off.
Quist thought it was a hold and secure. But once the texts and graphic photos started circulating from peers hiding in other parts of the school, he knew something was wrong.
Noronha readied himself and his class.
“We used … tables to barricade the doors, just to buy some time if somebody decides to go to the doors,” Noronha said.
The class began to formulate an escape plan for if someone were to break in, Noronha said.
Quist said it was tense. Worry ran through the shop class.
“I think we were all very nervous, so we tried to keep things light, and just keep each other motivated and not fall into grief.”
Noronha said he knew he had to protect his class.
“My whole focus was, I want to get these 15 students out of here safe.”
Noronha said the students behaved excellently under the circumstances.
“I was amazed by them,” he said.
Quist said living through it was “a very different experience.”
“It felt like I was in somewhere that I had only seen across a TV,” he said.
The class waited for about two hours, Quist said.
Police came and escorted the class out with their hands up. They made their way through a hallway and over to the nearby community centre.
Noronha said he saw armed officers everywhere, heavy guns “in every direction.”
“Lots and lots of blue and red lights flickering all over the place.” he added.
Parents waited in tears at the community centre, hanging on for any update.
His daughter called and said there was a shooter in the school
Dennis Campbell, the president of the local minor hockey association, said he could hardly believe it when his daughter called him from school.
“‘Dad, there’s a shooting. There’s a shooting here,’” he recalled his daughter’s words.
She hid with another class in the gym’s equipment room.
“My mind was going crazy.”
In the small town, if he doesn’t know someone affected, he knows another who does.
As the victims’ families and friends remember their lost loved ones, the overwhelming, heartbreaking refrain is that the young children were full of life.
They were future artists and engineers. They were athletes: skilled hockey players, soccer players, figure skaters.
Some were feisty and wild. Some were respectful and focused. They were special.
All of them made their families — their community — proud.
Tumbler Ridge is mourning the loss of ambitious, science-loving Abel Mwansa, 12; artistic and caring Zoey Benoit, 12; strong and loving Ticaria Lampert, 12; smiling hockey player Ezekiel Schofield, 13; and kind and creative Kylie Smith, 12. The town mourns Shannda Aviugana-Durand, 39, the education assistant who loved her students.
The community is also grieving those killed at the shooter’s family home: Jennifer Strang, 39, a loving mother, and Emmett Jacobs, 11, his father’s pride and joy.
Two more students, 12-year-old Maya Gebala and 19-year-old Paige Hoekstra, were seriously injured.
The waking nightmare of losing such bright children has stunned the tight-knit community of around 2,400.
The morning after the shooting, the local grocery store set up a table with free coffee and cookies to comfort residents. Flower bouquets were the purchase of the day.
Flags stood at half-mast and a memorial began to grow near the school.
The town’s library stayed open — a much-needed community hub.
“I thought that in order to provide some sense of normalcy and comfort, we should be here. We should be open,” head librarian Paula Coutts said.
The library cancelled its regular programming, according to Coutts, but supplied clay for children to model and create. Staff played the Olympics on a projector and put on the coffee.
The tragedy in Tumbler Ridge is not the first mass shooting in Canada. In Nova Scotia, the tiny community of Portapique lost 13 residents in a mass shooting on April 18, 2020, that killed 22 people in total.
Mayor Christine Blair of Colchester County, which includes Portapique, stressed that the mental supports that flow in immediately after tragedy must become embedded in the community over the long term.
“You need to have [support] that is consistent. In my opinion, you need to have trauma therapists that are available in the community on a regular basis for years to come,” Blair said.
Mayor of Portapique tells Tumbler Ridge ‘we understand’ mass shooting devastation
The impact of a traumatic event can have serious effects that extend long past the initial incident, Blair said. Her community has seen three suicides in the past six years, including one the day before the fourth anniversary of the shooting.
The mayor of Tumbler Ridge Darryl Krakowka has repeatedly advocated for better health care in rural communities, particularly drawing attention to the shortage of doctors, nurses and mental health professionals.
“It is one thing that we know as elected officials in our community, that we are short on that, the mental health counselling,” Krakowka said.
A variety of mental health services have made their way to Tumbler Ridge since the shooting.
Youth mental health supports, additional mental health clinicians, and a disaster psychosocial support team, which provides short-term psychological aid, have all been made available to residents, according to the province.
Questions arise about mental health supports in small B.C. communities after Tumbler Ridge tragedy
Shanon Dycke, Kylie Smith’s aunt, said mental health support needs to be put in place for children in schools immediately.
“It should never get to this,” she said.
As 12-year-old Maya Gebala fights for her life at B.C. Children’s Hospital after being shot and seriously injured at the high school, her mother, Cia Edmonds, said the community faces a lack of resources, particularly around mental health.
“We need better health care. We need better mental health care and that should be, in my opinion, included with our coverage [as] proper health care,” Edmonds said.
Premier David Eby has promised Tumbler Ridge students they will never be forced to return to the school. The school district said Friday it does not expect students to return to the building.
“We will share plans over the next week that prioritizes emotional and physical safety through a trauma-informed lens,” said a district letter to families.
“We will provide a safe place for you to go to school,” Eby said at the vigil.
Health care in Tumbler Ridge — and in northern B.C. as a whole — has long been a concern for residents.
Coutts, the head librarian, said the town essentially has two ambulances, and emergency services aren’t available between 5 p.m. and 8 a.m.
“As a community that’s 120 kilometres from the next closest place with a health facility, we shouldn’t have to think, ‘Gee, we hope tragedy happens only when the clinic’s open,’” Coutts said.
As days pass beyond Feb. 10, the community wants to remind the world that Tumbler Ridge isn’t a landmark of atrocity.
“It would be a crime to the citizens of the country for Tumbler Ridge to be remembered in the manner that it’s being seen [on] the international stage right now,” said Larry Neufeld, MLA for Peace River South.
“This is a jewel of a community. The fabric, again, has been torn. But it will heal,” Neufeld said. “This community will survive.”
At the vigil Friday, Carney spoke of the deep neighbourly care repeatedly displayed by Tumbler Ridge residents, from supporting each other through tough economic times, through wildfires, and through the unimaginable moments of Tuesday’s shooting.
“You held each other as you’re holding each other right now. This is grace.”
Grace, he said, is what we do for each other; what we receive from each other.
“Open hearts when the world falls apart. Tumbler Ridge is full of grace this evening.”
Quist, the 17-year-old high schooler in shop class, said community members must “hold each other close.”
“We’re going to be able to get through this. And I just think, now more than ever, we embrace the fact we’re such a small community, and we work together to make sure that everyone gets out of this.”
