Content warning: This story discusses sensitive topics including school shootings.
I am not a Michigan resident. I go to school here, but I am a four-and-a-half hour drive away from my home. I cross over time zones, multiple state lines, and through major cities. I made a conscious decision to go to school far enough away that I would experience an entirely new environment, but close enough to get back home if I ever needed to. I never thought the day would come where I WOULD need to go home as soon as I possibly could.
On the evening of Feb. 13, I went to dinner with my roommate and returned back to our dorm on the north side of campus around 8:00 p.m. It had been a normal day: I received flowers in the mail from my grandfather, I did some homework, and even went a couple towns over to conduct an interview. We skipped stopping at the student union after getting off the bus because we had stopped for snacks before and after our dinner.
Within half an hour of taking our coats off, while on the phone with my mom, we received emails that shots had been fired on campus in Berkey hall, a 5-10 minute walk from our dorm. The next thing we knew, there were shots fired in the Union – across the street from where my roommate and I sat paralyzed as the emails and text messages started to roll in. My mom, still on the phone, asked me where the Union was. I lied and said it was across campus, but she has been to my dorm and knew what the real answer was. I repeated the same lie to the rest of my family, only telling my sister the truth to avoid more panic.
After more frantic messages from friends and peers, our door was locked and our lights were off as we listened to the police scanner. We sat in silence as the police cleared every floor of the Union and then set up a perimeter. Other students on our floor sent videos of the tactical teams unloading their gear right outside our doors. We watched as they wheeled gurneys up to the Union and came back out covered in white sheets. The scanner announced that victims and witnesses alike would be brought to our dining hall and the police command center would be set up right outside – making everything feel more real than it already was.
We sat in silence and darkness for four hours listening to the scanner. We listened to the dispatcher direct teams to buildings all over campus due to the amount of incoming calls. In all the panic, people thought there were multiple shooters and they seemed to be hearing shots all over the place and all at once. Officers were diverted to every single neighborhood because everyone thought they were hearing gunshots whether they were there or not. The resident assistant on our floor directed us to stay in our rooms no matter what – she even advised us to pee in our garbage cans if we had to. Nobody knew what to think. There was still a shooter at large and nobody knew where he was.
Soon after we turned off the scanner at around 12:15 a.m., the news came in that the shooter had been apprehended a little ways off campus. While I could physically feel the weight lift off of my shoulders, an indescribably dark feeling took root that I have yet to shake. Once the shelter-in-place order was lifted and the university announced that everything would be shut down for the next 48 hours, my roommate and I decided we would be going home first thing in the morning regardless of whether classes would resume on Thursday. We all had a feeling that classes would be canceled for the remainder of the week, and we were proven correct by the time we woke up on Tuesday morning. I picked up another student from my hometown and we were out of East Lansing as soon as humanly possible.
I wasn’t alone until the night after the shooting. I had not taken a deep breath or released the tension in my shoulders until that point. That first time I was alone was when the reality of my situation hit me: I was in a school shooting. The one thing that terrified me more than anything in the world had come to fruition. I could have been in the Union when the shooting occurred. I usually would have been in the Union during that time. I get my breakfast there every morning and I often get my dinner there as well. It very well could have been me wheeled out on those gurneys.
During those four hours I spent sheltering in place, I never feared for my safety. I live on the third floor tucked away from the main hallway, which requires at least two ID card scans to get up to. I knew I was safe, but that indescribable feeling of dread, numbness, and God knows what else has stuck with me. I wake up to it every morning and it comes back during quiet moments and when I’m alone. Honestly, I don’t exactly know what it is. If I never felt like I was in any danger, why does this feeling still consume me? Why can’t I even describe what I feel? Every day for a week after the shooting, new information came out that would drag me back down into that feeling. One of the students that lost their lives lived on my floor and had added me on Snapchat. An international student is paralyzed from the chest down. Students were still in critical condition after a week.
As much as I hate to admit it, the idea of coming back to campus was more and more daunting as the day approached. I was lucky enough to have my mom and my aunt drive back with me, and I probably couldn’t have done it without them. The flowers around the Spartan statue laid a yard in diameter. There were people everywhere. The entire path running along Red Cedar River was lined with encouraging messages for students. One woman came up to me and handed me a letter written by a student from a nearby high school. I was brought to tears knowing that this was now my reality. While the community came together for the students, it still felt incredibly eerie being back – but that isn’t to say I’m not grateful for everything that has been done for us. I couldn’t have come back without the support from my family and knowing that East Lansing and the surrounding areas were rallying behind us.
On the other hand, I have refrained from posting anything with #spartanstrong. While I love my school and I love this community, I refuse to let MSU become another story for people to feel bad about. We are not just another school shooting story. We are real people who will continue to face the aftermath of a tragedy that should not have happened. After the media coverage is gone, we still live here.
Unfortunately, I still look over my shoulder every few minutes when I walk around or sit in the library. I’m still dragged down into that indescribable feeling when the day grows quiet. I know it will pass eventually, though. I know that the day will come when I’m not asked if I’m all right at least twice. The Spartan community is loving and resilient, but for now, the shadows from a Monday night in February still haunt me.
My heart goes out to the families and friends of the students who lost their lives and I keep those who were injured in my thoughts. I sincerely hope everyone is able to find peace in spite of everything that has happened. We should not have gone through this, nor should anyone else. Change needs to be made. While gun control reform is continuously shot down in congress, no alternate ideas are provided. If not gun control, what is going to change the gun violence epidemic in America?