My Life - Surviving a Mass Shooting

I hope you never are the victim of a hate crime. I pray that you never bare witness to a mass shooting. I empathize with anyone that has survived and/or lost anyone as the result of either.

On 8/10/1994, I met the boy I had fallen in love with 9 months earlier. After 30 hours of what felt like a lifetime of labor, my son Joshua was born. He was perfect in every way. I was delighted to see his long fingernails that I had felt scratching me from the inside for months, and even happier he was healthy.

Fast forward 5 years, 8/10/1999, and my life would forever be changed again. Joshie-Boy, as he preferred to be called back then, was excited to celebrate his 5th birthday with his friends knowing the Kindergarten was just weeks away. His counselors were prepared with balloons and treats. Jessica, my 8 year old, was going on a field trip and had been teasing Joshie all morning long.

That morning I dropped my 8 year old daughter off at camp and walked my middle son into his summer camp class. Both were at the NVJCC in Granada Hills, CA. My nephew was just up the hill at preschool and all was great in my life.

I headed to work and was looking forward to having lunch with my mother. She and I always celebrated the birth of my children as if it was my birthday too! Then I got a phone call. My mom was on the other end.

"Hi, did you decide where you want to meet for lunch" I said. She responded in a frantic tone, "There's been an accident at the JCC, a shooting, I'm in the car." I could not process her words. I remember saying calmly, "what JCC?" Ours she responded, you need to go.

At this point, I was confused but acting like I always do under pressure, I just moved. I grabbed my keys and said to my co-worker, as I later learned, I was stuttering and slurring, "there's been a shooting, I need to go!"

My hands froze as I spoke and I went into shock. I could barely move, so with my hands frozen, Janel grabbed my keys and we ran to the car and she drove. I was just 10 minutes away from the NVJCC so we got there fast.

I remember the sound of helicopters. It sounded like a war zone from a Vietnam movie. I was scared. As we got closer I saw policemen in SWAT gear, ambulances, fire trucks, but no regular people. Then we got to the driveway and it was blocked off with yellow tape. The kind you see in a crime scene.

Hands still frozen, I jumped out of the car before we stopped and ran through, under, the yellow tape. I was almost to the building when an officer or fireman, I do not remember, wrapped his arms around me and stopped me from moving. He asked me what I was doing there and I remember saying, "my kids, my kids."

I really do not remember what he said to me. I just know that he wasn't telling me what happened only that the gunman was on the loose and I could not be there. He then escorted me across the street where a handful of adults were beginning to gather. Nobody had answers. We were all terrified.

It seemed like hours passed before a first responder came to talk to us. We were told that the children that were on their way to the field trip were put onto buses and taken offsite. The other children, my son and his friends, had been taken to the church next door. The injured had already been transferred to the hospital, some by ambulance and others by helicopter to Children's Hospital in Los Angeles.

No names, no descriptions, no status, alive or dead. By this time a sizable crowd had assembled and we all wanted answers. Reporters were everywhere, and the helicopters, those damn helicopters would not leave.

After a few hours, we were told where the older children were and that they had all escaped harm. Thank goodness, but that was only a partial relief. What about the others? Still nothing, we would be notified once the identities of the injured where known and that the children that were not hit, were being debriefed.

Debriefed, for goodness sake, they are 5 and 6 year old children. Where is my son? Finally a description, the first 2 boys they described were not wearing the same outfit Joshie was wearing that day. What about the 3rd boy? Well, we know his name is Josh. He was wearing a grey Anakin Skywalker t-shirt.

Suddenly I could not hear. The helicopters got louder. I was in shock, paralyzed, I could not move. What do I do now? Somehow I managed to dial my husband, who was en-route to meet me. Go to the hospital, go, hurry, I remember saying. They wont verify anything but it might be Joshie.

I left to pick up my daughter from the holding area in Northridge, called the nanny that was watching my 2 year old, and waited to hear from my husband. When I got to the older kids, most of my Girl Scout troop was sitting together, crying, talking about the sound of rapid gunfire and their younger siblings.

My heart was heavy, as I held my daughter close, I offered whatever comfort I could and assured the girls that everything was going to be okay. Then my phone rang. I flipped open the cover and waited. "It's not Joshie, its the other Josh," I heard my husband say.

It was then that I remember my tears started to flow. Yet I was not relieved. Sure, my son was not hit, but another child was. This was a horror show in real time. We, my daughter and I went to wait for our boy, Joshie. The kids were being brought out one by one. There he was, in the policeman's arms. Shoes covered in blood, and a green balloon tied to his wrist that said It's My Birthday.

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