Unhinged

Newtown and Dark Knight still seemed fresh in my mind. The realization that normal people, not just faces on the news, could be victims of such horrific acts hit hard with so many Americans across the country. It slowly trickled down to all of the nation's children, too. However, it didn't hit me full-force until that night.

I had come to the high school for my sister’s concert, almost a year after the Sandy Hook shooting. I first saw the man in the cafeteria, he stood out among all of the parents. Many groups of parents were huddled together in tiny pods at the cafeteria tables, binded only by their children’s friendships. In contrast, the man was completely isolated.

Just watching him walk was intimidating enough, with his tall stature and forceful stride. He strode through the cafeteria, winding around the tables. I caught him stealing a glance every once and awhile, looking to see if he had drawn attention yet.

I first noticed the gun when he briefly walked by me. The bulky black case jutting from his belt seemed like it was begging to be noticed. I noticed a few parents turn their heads away from their conversations, their eyes seeming to gravitate towards the gun. Sparks of worry flitted across their eyes. Returning to their conversations, their voices now had tinges of fear. The buzz in the cafeteria got even louder, rising up past all of the floors and through the roof. As the clock struck 7:00, I began to head towards the auditorium. I let out a relieved sigh, thankful I was walking away from him for the time being. I was saved by the chime on the clock.

When I arrived in the auditorium I settled for seats near the door, as the ones nearest to the stage were filled with too-eager parents. Having no one to talk to, I stared into the crowd searching for any trace of interest. I noticed that the same parents who had turned their heads in concern over the gun now seemed much more occupied with finding their children in the sea of black dresses and bowties. It seemed very clear to me there was a much bigger worry everyone in the room should have been thinking about -- the gun.

When the lights in the auditorium dimmed, I couldn’t help but imagine the people in the Century 16 theatre as they watched the lights dim for the last time. He was standing on the balcony adjacent to my row, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Coming into this, he seemed rather eager for attention, but I could sense even he felt uneasy. A policeman stood on his other side, glancing at the gun on the man's belt and then to his own. I expected the policeman to not even hesitate for a moment, everyday he fought crime and faced danger. He stood up taller and crossed his arms, trying his best to look unfazed, but his flighty eyes told otherwise.

Rather than listening to the music coming from the stage, my thoughts stayed fixed on the gun on the man’s belt. Every so often I could see his eyes sweep across the audience, and I always held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t fix me as the first victim.

Perhaps it was wrong of me to label him my “Enemy #1” for the night, but I clearly wasn’t the only one who was bothered by him. Soon after the concert, we received an email from the school principal addressing the incident. Many parents had contacted the school, troubled by what they had seen him carrying that night at the concert.

Ever since elementary school I had been told never to bring a weapon, even something that remotely resembled a weapon, to school. And when I asked why the teachers were allowed to freely carry their pocket-knives, I was met with a stern glance and the same words:

“Adults know how to be responsible.”

Time and time again the world had demonstrated just how wrong that statement was, from all of the wars we have fought to all of the terrorist attacks on innocent people.

James Eagan Holmes was 27 when he walked into the Century 16 movie theatre, armed with three different shot guns. By the end of his rampage, 12 people had been killed and countless others injured.

The victims had not expected their evening to be anything more than a movie and a bag of popcorn or two. Because no one, no matter how many times they’ve heard it, thinks it will be them.

I had come for a concert, expecting my evening to be nothing more than struggling to stay awake amidst the uninteresting adult conversations and droning orchestra. However my evening was filled with dreams of an escape plan and chaos, all because of one person carrying one thing.

Seeing the gun on his belt gave me a heightened awareness of would could have easily become of me, but it also made me realize how much I didn’t see. That man was a parent, a normal guy with khakis and a button-down shirt. Had he not had a gun, I would have thought nothing of him. Because here, especially in the tight bubble of Treeville, something like a shooting wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t happen.

I realized was just like all of the others, not believing my face would ever be on the news for anything other than something amazing. The only difference was that they fell to their caskets that night, and I was lucky enough to escape the night unscathed. That night, seeing that man in the theatre with the dimmed lights, made me truly realize that yes, it could be me.

James Eagan Holmes was 27 when he walked into the Century 16 movie theatre, armed with three different shot guns. By the end of his rampage, 12 people had been killed and countless others injured.

The victims had not expected their evening to be anything more than a movie and a bag of popcorn or two. Because no one, no matter how many times they’ve heard it, thinks it will be them.

I had come for a concert, expecting my evening to be nothing more than struggling to stay awake amidst the uninteresting adult conversations and droning orchestra. However my evening was filled with dreams of an escape plan and chaos, all because of one person carrying one thing.

Seeing the gun on his belt gave me a heightened awareness of would could have easily become of me, but it also made me realize how much I didn’t see. That man was a parent, a normal guy with khakis and a button-down shirt. Had he not had a gun, I would have thought nothing of him. Because here, especially in the shielded bubble of Birmingham, something like a shooting wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t happen.

I realized was just like all of the others, not believing my face could ever be on the news for anything other than something amazing. The only difference was that they fell into their caskets that night, and I was lucky enough to escape the night unscathed. That night, seeing that man in the theatre with the dimmed lights, made me truly realize that yes, it could be me.