February 16th, 2008
Jeff Merkel, whose story appeared in the Register Star and on rrstar.com today, is an acquaintance of mine. I met him last semester in a media class.
I didn’t know about Jeff’s brave actions following the shooting until Friday, when I saw his photo pop into the newsroom publishing system.
His staunchness in the face of fear is an inspiration and an example that all NIU students should follow. Jeff offered help tending to the physical wounds of this tragedy, but we can all help heal the emotional wounds. We must stand strong and support one another. As NIU President John Peters said, “We will get through this together.”
February 16th, 2008
Following the tragedy at NIU, I received more than 60 phone calls, text messages and e-mails from friends, family and fellow students. Because of the gridlocked cell phone towers in DeKalb on Thursday, more than half of the calls I received went to voicemail.
The calls stopped briefly around 11:30 Thursday night, then began flooding in again around 6 a.m. on Friday. On Friday, my battery became nearly drained, and I carried a cell phone charger around with me, plugging my phone in whenever I was near an outlet.
Many of the first calls Thursday afternoon were from panicked relatives or friends asking if I was safe. My mother was distraught — her call the first to reach me as I hid in a locked classroom — when I couldn’t tell her if I knew that I was out of danger. My best friend sobbed with relief when she heard my voice on the other line.
A member of my roller derby league called me about 4:45 p.m. on Thursday, saying that she and my other teammates had been trying to reach me for over an hour. I recruited her to call the others to relay the message that I was unhurt and that I loved them all.
Since Friday morning, the calls have been to inquire about my well being. None of my friends have asked me to talk about what happened. They’ve simply said, “I am here for you.” It doesn’t seem like much, but that’s the best thing a friend can offer another friend.
My friends have heard me break down as I try to make sense of the chaos of the situation. They have grieved with me for the victims and prayed with me for their friends and families. They have hugged me and have sat in silence with me when words were insufficient for expression.
Now, more than ever before, I want to be near the ones I love.
February 15th, 2008
I’m a junior at NIU. Yesterday, I was attending classes in Reavis Hall, a classroom building adjacent to Cole Hall. Now, a day later, it’s still difficult to comprehend what happened. Less than 24 hours ago, I was crouched behind a desk in the corner of a locked computer lab, fearing for my life. I was alone in the room, other students having fled a few minutes before.
From the hallway, there came, at first, sounds of shouting and the beat of rapid footfalls. After that, things fell disturbingly quiet inside the building. I could hear only the mournful howls of the sirens and the incessant whop-whopping of the chopper blades outside.
I didn’t know what had happened or what was still happening. Furtive glances out the window told me nothing. I knelt in silence on the floor until I heard the rasp of a key being inserted into the lock of the door. I stood up and came face to face with a campus employee, who was startled to see me appear from behind a desk.
To my dismay, he had no more idea than I of what was going on. He took me to the computer lab next door, where a roomful of anxious students were sitting in stifling quiet, speaking only in hushed voices. I took a seat and listened to the conversations around me.
From every student, I heard a different possibility. One said they heard the shooter was still at large. Another jumped in, reporting they had heard there was not one shooter, but three, and that they were making their way from building to building. This remark prompted a few moments of silence, before someone said, “I heard that at least five people got shot.”
Students said their friends in other buildings had professors barricading the doors of their classrooms and waiting with their students for an unknown fate.
None of us knew that the shooting had already ended, lasting a few brief moments, before word of it could reach us. We didn’t know that the shooter had turned the gun on himself after his horrifying rampage, ending his own life.
From what other students told me later, police response was massive and swift. If the shooter had decided to continue his onslaught — or had there been more shooters — the attacks would have been effectively quelled by police action.
This knowledge is comforting, but it in no way dulls the sting of lives lost yesterday. This event has troubled me deeply, and my heart is burdened for my fellow students and their families.
