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Residents of the Canadian mining town Tumbler Ridge largely agree that Tuesday 10 February began like a normal day. The cloudy haze that settled over the valley was typical. So too was the chill of winter.
There were no hints that the quiet and comfortable routine of daily life in the mountains would be irrevocably shattered in one of the country’s worst ever acts of mass violence.
The shops had been open for hours and students were midway through classes when a shooter opened fire and killed eight people, most of them young children.
The attack unleashed a storm of grief, rage and disbelief that hangs heavy over the town. Hugs between friends linger tighter and longer. Grown men fall to their knees, their eyes red-rimmed at the injustice of it all. Residents are robbed of the ability to speak.
“What do you even call this? What word is there for this?” said Don McKay, whose 17-year-old son, Duncan, was in gym class when the shooter arrived at the school and opened fire. Most students ignored the scattered bangs until a teacher came running into the gym and began frantically herding them into a storage room that he then locked. “I’ve encouraged him to speak to help make sense of it,” said McKay. “But it also helps. Because I just don’t have the words. Sometimes, for a moment, I do. But most of the time I can’t.”
At a vigil on Thursday night, the mayor, Darryl Krakowka, said crying was not a sign of weakness, but of strength, and the community needed to stay strong.
After police released a full list of victims, families began to publicly mourn a loss that remains both inconceivable and gut-wrenching in its cruelty.
The children, between the ages of 12 and 13, were remembered as dreamers, dancers, athletes and, in the case of Sarah Lampert’s daughter Ticaria, “an “energiser bunny”. Ticaria was less than two months away from her 13th birthday when she was killed alongside her friend.
“These were beautiful girls who didn’t deserve this,” said Lampert, holding up photographs of “my Tiki torch”.
“I don’t know what else to say,” she told the dozens of cameras trained on her.
Two adults were also killed on Tuesday. Shannda Aviugana-Durand was an educational assistant who spent her days with the students at Tumbler Ridge secondary. Jennifer Strang was the mother of the shooter and four other children, including Emmett Jacobs, 11, who was also killed.
In a town with fewer than 2,500 full-time residents, the shooting has tested the limits and scope of what community means. The unspoken promise of life in a place such as Tumbler Ridge, as one resident put it, is that “the town carries you when you need it”.
But the town is now grappling with tragedy that is wider and deeper than most could have ever imagined, and an injustice perpetrated by one of its own.
Jesse Van Rootselaar, whom investigators identified as the shooter, had a history of police visits to her home to check on her mental health. Twice, she was taken for formal assessments. The premier of British Columbia, David Eby, said he had reached out to local health officials to ask for more details. At one point, police seized guns from the house but returned them after the owner – whom they did not identify – successfully appealed against the decision. Her firearms permit had expired in 2024 and was not renewed. Residents say Van Rootselaar, who dropped out of school four years ago, was reclusive. These revelations have angered residents, some of whom believe more could have been done to stop the attack.
But, as in many places struck by tragedy, a sense of duty among residents – and those who have descended on the town to help – has prevailed.
The town’s library has transformed into a gathering place for families to avoid the glare of news cameras. The dinosaur museum – which in warmer months draws tourists with its collection of Triassic fossils – is closed to the public so that residents have a private space for grief counselling. Staff at the Twisted Seasons Bistro have donated more than $1,500 in food to paramedics, police and anyone who looked as though a warm meal or coffee could bring a sliver of joy.
“We’re close here. We’re family,” said Tiffany Hildebrandt, who spent what should have been her day off taking orders and clearing tables at the cafe.
For outsiders, the town has been reduced to a single building where the horror unfolded: the red-brick school. But Tumbler Ridge was a special place said Scott McKay. “There’s a reason I’ve lived here so long.”
He hopes Mark Carney’s decision to attend a vigil – the first time a prime minister has ever visited Tumbler Ridge – alongside his political rival Pierre Poilievre captures the way in which tragedy has united the country.
“They’re putting politics aside. They’re both fathers.”
Residents have also received shreds of hopeful news. Cia Edmonds, whose daughter was airlifted to Vancouver after she was shot in the neck and head, posted on Facebook that Maya had moved for the first time in two days.
“Its stimulus, a kick, a hand move, but its something!” she wrote. “Pray for our community. Pray for support. Pray for healing. Pray that all the young minds that are forced to live in memories, that they can grieve and eventually move forward with their heads held so high.”
A day earlier she wrote: “It was just a normal day. What happened.”
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