Oxford shooting survivors meet a shattered new reality after mass killer's sentencing
PONTIAC, Mich. (FOX 2) - Parents waited in their cars. Friends held their phones close for any updates. But for the students and teachers that experienced the Oxford High School mass shooting, the first place they were shuttled was the nearby grocery store.
For some, they're still trapped in the same headspace they arrived in two years ago.
"My mind is stuck in a Meijer parking lot," said Jace McCarthy. "It sounds silly."
McCarthy said it was a place where students used to gather - a hang-out spot. They'd wander the aisles and discuss gossip at school, trying to waste time before having to go home.
But on Nov. 30, 2021, it was a chaotic staging scene where parents and students, frightened out of their minds, embraced and collided in a sea of emotions. A cloak of confusion and trauma fell over the area as families reconnected following the terrifying ordeal.
Then, as the crowd began to disperse, the names of three people were announced over the loudspeaker.
"We're wandering around Meijer asking everybody if they've seen Tate. We got summoned to the manager's office at Meijer and were delivered the news that Tate wasn't with us anymore," said Buck Myre, Tate's dad.
At that time, the families of Madisyn Baldwin and Hana St. Juliana received the same news. Justin Shilling would die from his injuries the following day.
The Oxford High School shooting's sentencing Friday included dozens of survivors giving heartbreaking testimony about the trauma they continue to experience, the flashbacks filled with the sounds of gunshots, and a realization that life will never be the same.
The shooter was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. The judge said the aftermath of the shooting was what he wanted - to see the "impact of his crimes."
It's been more than two years since the four students were murdered and six others were shot, as well as one teacher. Many who knew the victims delivered remarks to a packed Oakland County courtroom.
Hana's sister Reina St. Juliana read a letter from her mom, whose letter said the family was surviving, but not living.
"I am so fearful of another irreplaceable, important person suddenly being taken away right in front of me, I send off my family scared to death each and every day," her mom wrote. "Every night. I wish that the morning wouldn't come. Every day I think about how nice it would be if I could stop time and stop thinking.
"For us, our peaceful happy days with Hana will never be again."
Reina, who spoke at her sister's funeral described the pain of never wanting to be happy again. "Hana is my happy," she said.
Hana's last words to Sylvia Lester, another survivor who spoke, were "I'll call you later." The two had been best friends and had parted ways because Lester said she didn't want to be late to class. "I never got a call," she said during the sentencing.
When directing her words toward the shooter, Lester said a school of 1,800 students and teachers had been traumatized and robbed of an innocence that was too short-lived.
Linda Watson, whose son Aiden was shot in the leg and now suffers from nerve damage, remembers the terror of getting a call that her child had been struck by a bullet. She met him at a stranger's house before taking him to the hospital.
Over the following months, life wouldn't get any easier for the family.
"But shock wares off and trauma sets in and people change. Seeing that happen to your child is hard, and it's impossible to work through, but we keep trying," she said. Over time, she would meet other families who suffered similar heartbreak. They'd meet in court and at vigils, learning how to exist in a shattered world.
Many were in court on Friday.
"It was hard to learn about and felt impossible to comprehend, but it was the beginning of our new reality," Watson said.
For Nicole Beausoleil, her new reality unraveled in the same room where Myer and St. Juliana's family learned their child had died.
"I don't have good news on these three children. They're deceased," were the words delivered from across the room. The bluntness of the statement dropped Beausoleil's body to the floor. She replayed the words in her head over and over.
Her heart and mind were in two different places and coming to terms with the loss of her daughter took months. The scream her 11-year-old daughter let out after telling her about Madisyn's death would haunt her, she said.
"When she asked me why, I didn't have an answer," Beausoleil recalled.
Many of the people who spoke said they had felt a sense of guilt that they had lived while their friends had died. Some have moved away while others have missed large chunks of the school year. Public spaces scare them and they don't trust strangers.
They go through the motions when they enter a room by counting the exits and objects they might use to defend themselves. Sleepless nights follow them.
The shooter rarely looked away from the ground during the hearing. And while he may not have been able to see those speaking, he could hear them. Speakers called for him to be given a life sentence without the possibility of parole.
Some admitted the shooter had succeeded in his mission, which was to inflict harm and witness the suffering of his victims' families. But they followed up with guarantees that it wouldn't last.
Tate Myre's dad Buck said today was the day "where the tides change."
"Today, we are going to take ours back," he said. "We're all cried out. We're all tired out. We need to take this chip off our shoulder. We've been on this island far too long. We are the prisoner, not you. Nobody else can set us free, but us."
The shooter will stay at Oakland County Jail until his paperwork is processed with the state corrections department. From there he will be sent to the Thumb Correctional Facility in Lapeer, there is a wing there for juveniles.
It is unknown when he will be moved, which could be Saturday or next week. The Oakland County Sheriff's Office will update their inmate list when he leaves.