#there are so many students on campus who are grieving their family members MURDERED by the IOF rn. what the fuck

[trans-axolotl]

oh fuck this…campus ministry is inviting three IOF soldiers to speak at our university tomorrow. I cannot fucking believe they had the audacity to do this what the actual fuck. protest is already planned bc there is no way in hell we are letting that event happen smoothly but what the fuck.

#personal #three active duty IOF soldiers #there are so many students on campus who are grieving their family members MURDERED by the IOF rn. what the fuck #actually never been more mad at the admin here before #like already hated them for so many reasons #and this is just fucking cruel

[uomo-accattivante]

Several people have asked me about the Juilliard classmate who co-starred with Oscar in the school’s production of Chekhov’s Three Sisters. Her name was Sarah Fox, and she was destined to become a star, in her own right, before sadly becoming a victim of a still-unsolved homicide in May, 2004. 

The following is a quote about Oscar’s statement to the New York Times and the article it originated from:

“Oscar Isaac, a fellow third-year drama student, said Ms. Fox was known for her constellation of hugs. The one reserved exclusively for Mr. Isaac would require each of them to tickle each other's backs while embracing.”

(📷: Serena Reeder)

Her story has much of the familiar ring of the young aspirant's tale. She was a radiant young woman with a repertoire of special hugs, imbued with talent and brimming with hope. From the far reaches of New Jersey, she came to study at one of New York's fabled cultural institutions and to wonder if one day destiny might find her. People took notice. She glowed.

Sarah Fox's story ended when her badly decomposed body was found on Tuesday by a volunteer search party in the thickets near a jogging path in Inwood Hill Park in northern Manhattan. Positive identification was made yesterday, law enforcement authorities said, after her mother presented dental records to the medical examiner's office.

The police said that she had been strangled, though they were uncertain whether by hand or by another method, and they could not determine if she had been sexually assaulted. The bizarre placement of petals and branches from a tulip tree around the body raised the question that the killing may have had a ritualistic element. The police said they were without suspects but were casting a wide net.

Ms. Fox was 21, 5 feet 2 inches tall, with blue eyes and strawberry blond hair that she wore short on the sides and spiked on top. She was a student in the drama department at the Juilliard School, the performing arts conservatory at Lincoln Center. The rarefied air of its sleekly modern buildings have produced a long list of hallowed names including Miles Davis, Philip Glass, Yo-Yo Ma, Itzhak Perlman, Nina Simone and Robin Williams.

Ms. Fox was starry-eyed with her own high aspirations for a stage career. She drew a favorable response for her versatility, just as convincingly playing the conniving Natasha in Chekhov's ''Three Sisters'' as she did a bird in the Aristophanes play ''The Birds.'' A fellow drama student at Juilliard remarked on how ''brave, open, accomplished'' she was as an actress.

Recently, though, she had taken a leave from the school. Her relatives said she had found Juilliard very demanding and simply needed a brief interlude to replenish herself. She intended to resume her studies in the fall as a third-year student.

The abrupt and jarring end to her life left Juilliard bewildered. The discovery equally stunned the city itself. Though Ms. Fox's movements in the hours leading to her death remain unclear, it appears that a young woman went out to jog well before dusk, in a park where children played and people walked their dogs, only to encounter a murderer that no one saw.

For an hour and a half yesterday morning, members of the Juilliard drama department gathered to collectively address her death. This took place in Room 304, a classroom that has become something of a designated grieving room. In recent years, similar grim assemblages occurred. Several years ago, another third-year drama student was found dead and the room filled up. It did again last year when a student's sister was murdered. It was the same place where students gathered after Sept. 11.

In the room that one student characterized as ''an emotional vortex,'' more than 150 people mourned Sarah Fox, an astonishing number given that classes had ended for the academic year a week ago and many students had dispersed. A second-year drama student who attended the session said the event was ''uplifting'' even though virtually everyone was in tears. Ms. Fox's boyfriend, a Juilliard drama graduate, was among those who spoke.

Later in the day, about 70 students and faculty members returned to campus for a half-hour memorial service in one of the dance studios. Filing out of the building, Jane Cho, 31, a former piano student and now a career counselor at Juilliard, said, ''It was dark and a lot of people were crying.''

Joseph W. Polisi, Juilliard's president, issued a statement saying: ''She reached out eloquently to others through her exceptional ability as an actress. Her senseless loss leaves us all feeling a profound sorrow.''

Ms. Fox grew up in a family of modest means in Pennsauken, in southern New Jersey. She had an older sister, Samantha. Her father, a car mechanic, died of cancer 10 years ago, and her mother sometimes held two jobs to raise the two girls. She currently lives in Gibbstown, N.J., and is a manager for a mortgage company.

Ms. Fox caught the acting bug as a girl and filled her summers performing in shows. She also developed a strong interest in music, and she liked to jog to keep fit.

In an interview with The Courier-Post of New Jersey before her daughter's body was found, Lorraine Fox recounted how she had impressed on Sarah the dangers of the world. When Sarah was little, they played a game called ''What If?'' Her mother would ask a question like, ''What if a stranger came up and asked you to help find a dog?''

Ms. Fox would learn the answers, which were always, ''No.''

During high school, she was a member of the first class of the Southern New Jersey Academy of the Performing Arts, a division of the Gloucester County Institute of Technology in Sewell. Eileen Shute, a spokeswoman for the school, said Ms. Fox was an A student and a ''quality young lady.''

According to the school's yearbook, she belonged to the fine arts club and the thespian society and had leading parts in a number of major productions, including Rosalind in Shakespeare's early romantic comedy ''As You Like It.'' Classmates were amused when she and her date once showed up at a dance dressed as Sonny and Cher.

At the back of her 2001 yearbook, she is pictured in the front row of her graduating class. The headline over the photo reads: ''The perfect end to a beautiful beginning''

Her talent gained her admission with a full scholarship to Juilliard in the fall of 2001, where she seemed to have become well-liked and admired by students and teachers.

Several classmates said she had a knack for knowing when other people needed a jolt of confidence. When one student assumed that no one had remembered his birthday, Ms. Fox put up on a drama department message board a brown paper bag on which she had scribbled, ''We haven't forgotten, Happy Birthday.'' Another time, she cheered up a student having trouble mastering his character in a play by leaving a note on a blackboard that said: ''Don't beat yourself up. You're immensely talented.''

It was her abilities on the stage as much as her robust personality that attracted attention. A number of students praised her leading performance in last year's production of Brecht's ''Caucasian Chalk Circle.'' ''She was 19 years old and was not a parent, but she played the mother so convincingly,'' said one recent graduate. ''It made you wonder where someone could get that sort of poise and wisdom.''

When she played a bird in ''The Birds,'' many who saw the performance said they thought it was enlightened casting. ''She was so light-spirited and in touch with her animal instincts,'' said Jess Weixler, another recent graduate.

Her family felt certain of her future. ''I have no doubt that we would have seen her name in lights one day on Broadway,'' said an uncle, Isaac Porter.

Oscar Isaac, a fellow third-year drama student, said Ms. Fox was known for her constellation of hugs. The one reserved exclusively for Mr. Isaac would require each of them to tickle each other's backs while embracing.

Ms. Fox shared an apartment in the Inwood section not far from where her body was found. It was in a five-story walkup building in a neighborhood whose relatively low rents have drawn an influx of younger people embarked on careers in the arts.

Her roommate reported her missing last Thursday. The last time her roommate saw her was at 5 p.m. the previous day. Wearing workout clothes and carrying a compact disc player, Ms. Fox was apparently on her way to her gym or to jog.

The police sent officers, helicopters and dogs to root through the thickly forested parks of Inwood. News of her disappearance galvanized her friends and family to do what they could. They tacked up hundreds of posters bearing her photograph. To further assist, Mr. Porter, an electrician from Millville, N.J., assembled a volunteer search party, composed largely of people from South Jersey, to fan out through Inwood Hill Park. The police had been there. But the family sensed that if anything had happened to Sarah Fox, it had happened there.

Early Tuesday afternoon, members of the search party sifted through a tangled area near a jogging path and found what they had hoped they wouldn't find. They found the end of Sarah Fox's story.

###

#oscar isaac #juilliard #sarah fox #group 34 #anton chekhov #three sisters

[leonaesque]

Poetic Injustice: On Ateneo and Negotiating Complicity

To be a successful comprador is an art. Tony Tan Caktiong knows this. Given the scale at which multinational corporations influence Philippine culture, at this point, who are we to refute it? And how? Profit-seeking forces itself on us; to be recognized. Every mass-produced item of clothing featuring the pattern of an ever-smiling billion-dollar bee is indication enough: Art is execution. In fact, being the recipient of foreign capital requires deliberate hands able to maintain thousands upon thousands of labor-only contractual workers, despite their having worked at the same establishment for years on end. These workers produce what no middleman can. Yet a company will still view being bought-out by an industry giant as the ideal exit strategy. Each moving part makes for one striking image of monopoly– worthy, one might insist, of being featured in a gallery.

Jollibee Foods Corporations (JFC) acquires stakes or ownership of restaurant chains in order to expand, as it has done over the course of many years with local and foreign brands. Their current roster includes Greenwich, Chowking, Red Ribbon, Mang Inasal, Burger King PH, The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, and Panda Express PH. The company also runs businesses internationally, such as Smashburgers in the United States, and Yonghe Dawang or Yonghe King in China.[1] Of course, the face of this massive undertaking remains the once tiny Magnolia-inspired ice cream store, Jollibee, now every business-oriented insect’s wet dream.

Ernesto Tanmiantong, brother and successor of Tony Tan Caktiong as Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of Jollibee Foods Corporation, is the latest former Chairperson of the Ateneo de Manila University Board of Trustees.[2] One can even find his name, along with his wife’s, gracing a first-floor exhibit hall of the Ateneo Art Gallery, found inside the university’s so-called creative hub, the Arete. In the months before the start of the first semester of S.Y. 2018-2019, Tanmiantong’s adorable, marketing-committee-approved buddy in white gloves and a chef’s hat took a trip to the then-newly inaugurated art gallery for a photo-op. The mascot then posed with several installments and paintings, a couple of which depicted farmers and workers.

According to the Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE), JFC is one of the most notorious businesses with regards to the perpetuation of the practice of contractualization.[3] Contractual workers are, according to law, not employed by– and, therefore, not the responsibility of– the company they provide labor to. Because of this, these workers do not receive benefits or compensation, are often subject to abusive working conditions, and are vulnerable to the shameless practice of mass termination. No doubt, the Public Relations stunt with the Ateneo Art Gallery was ill-timed; right at the height of protests against the corporation, in the midst of its non-compliance with the DOLE’s order to regularize upwards of 6,000 of its workers– there was Jollibee: tone-deaf and taking pictures to post on his Facebook profile, The Atenean Way.  

Ironically, as the statement by Ateneo’s School of Humanities Sanggunian (which condemned the incident) pointed out, perhaps even the person inside that oversized blinking head of the Jollibee mascot was a contractual worker, posing in a space that he might never have been able to enter without the cartoon-bee-mask of his exploitation.[4] Surely, it does not matter whether or not the institutional faux pas was an intentional case of art-washing. At least, it should not. Is there such a thing as art for art for art’s sake?

---

There is this poem entitled “The Doomed” written by Mikael De Lara Co. A friend of mine recommended it to me once after a workshop session because my piece, he said, reminded him of it. I do not think my friend meant to insult me. Unless he did.

“The Doomed” is a poem about writing a poem, wherein the poet-persona is aware that, while he is writing poems about lilies, there is violence somewhere, which he is both physically and socially detached from. This violence is manifest into the shooting of Liberal Party supporter and candidate, Hamira Agcong, in 2010, as well as the infamous Ampatuan Massacre that occurred in 2009, where 58 people were kidnapped and killed.  

Where do poems fall under in the realm of social praxis (if at all)? “The Doomed” ends with the lines “I want to find beauty in suffering. / I want to fail.” Yet, the poem’s aestheticization of the murders via tone and imagery is blatant. The declarative rejection of an ideal like beauty or portraying beauty betrays the poet’s pretentiousness in what can only be his underlying conservativity. There is no attempt to avoid it. With lines like “You sit at your desk / to write a poem about lilies and a clip of 9mm’s / is emptied into the chest of a mother…” and “… a backhoe in Ampatuan crushes the spines of 57 / – I am trying to find another word for bodies”, it sounds as though these killings are more poetic material than actual, politically motivated deaths. Tell me, is the reader to blame for reading what is on the page? Mikael De Lara Co fails in failing, making the poem and its project a useless endeavor.

Despite the pointedly crafted grief into the persona’s voice, “The Doomed” does nothing to grieve the circumstances which brings about its dramatic situation. Why are people “doomed”, if not for the bureaucrat capitalists that viciously plot to stay in power? Could the poet not have addressed that, instead of weeping about his writing process? I do not believe that the poem would have failed that, at least, because all language inevitably fails in the face of social reality. That would be lazy, if it were not bullshit.

But I suppose that is why “The Doomed” fails, most of all: The poet believes it is fine to write speeches for a leader who allowed farmers and indigenous people to be harassed, as long as they could be tagged as members of the New People’s Army, the armed faction of the Communist Party of the Philippines. A text speaks, though the words are not on the page. So, the poet dooms.

Mikael De Lara Co has won many awards for his writing and translations, including the prestige-inducing Don Carlos Palanca Award for Literature. He graduated BS Environmental Science from Ateneo de Manila University, where he was once an editor of Heights, the school’s official literary publication. He has been published in many other magazines, literary journals, and the like, where his author’s notes proudly indicate all these accomplishments and more, such as having, himself, worked for the Liberal Party and once been a member of the former President Benigno Aquino III’s staff under the Presidential Communications Operations Office. Ergo, ghostwriter, alongside a number of other Ateneans who were also once part of Heights.

“Noynoy Aquino was a fascist” is a phrase that does not get said often enough. The Aquino administration, with its neoliberal policies the color of dehydrated piss, is credited with the starving thousands of farmers to death. Unsurprising, I suppose, for a family of landlords to inherit a disdain for the very hands that feed them. Corazon Cojuanco Aquino passed the Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Program (CARP) during her regime, and her son amended it with an extension and reforms (CARPer), making it even easier for land owners not to have to redistribute their lands at all.

For all its “Kayo ang boss ko” and “Daang Matuwid” pandering, the Aquino administration did not skimp on its counterinsurgency program, Oplan Bayanihan, which heavily drew from the U.S. Counterinsurgency Guide.[5] Here, it was farmers and Lumad, some of the most vulnerable sectors of Philippine society, that were tagged as rebels, terrorists, communists, etc., simply for knowing and standing for their rights, as the government failed to decimate actual armed revolutionaries in the countryside.

The massacre that took place under the Aquino administration occurred in Kidapawan, Cotabato on April 1, 2016. According to reports, among the group of 6,000 protesters that was mainly composed of farmers and activists, 116 were injured, 87 went missing, and 3 were killed.[6] Perhaps the lilies in “The Doomed” were a metaphor for De Lara Co’s beloved Noynoy.

---

Speaking of Ateneo: For an institution that makes yearly claims to combat historical revisionism and uphold the memory of the victims of human rights violations under the Martial Law era, this university loves to slurp on major Marcos ass. In 2014, President Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ drew flack for having rubbed elbows with the iron butterfly herself, Imelda Marcos, at an Ateneo scholars’ benefactors’ event.[7] The mere thought of Imelda posing as a charitable, bloated cockroach in a wig that feasts on all that is lavish and garish, while the university welcomes her to do so is nearly comical. I imagine the blood.  

In 2019, a similar incident ensued[8], this time with Imelda’s daughter, Irene, whose art connoisseur lifestyle she lives second-hand. It was during the inauguration of the Arete’s amphitheater, named after Ignacio B. Jimenez, a crony of the corrupt family themselves.[9] Community backlash forced the building’s executive director, Yael Buencamino, to resign and for University President, Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ to issue a statement in response to the instance.

Yet, despite the triumph of Ateneans in demanding accountability for having the Marcoses at our literal and metaphorical dining table, there are also the Camposes, the Consunjis, the Lorenzos, and other local elite whose hands are stained with generational blood, that have established their presence in the campus with no near hopes of showing them out. Students could also be as loud as they pleased about the violations on workers’, farmers’, and national minorities’ rights that these families are frequently attached to, with only the answer of a warning that school organizations may lose sponsorship opportunities. What else can we expect? Of course, the names that line the halls that one studies in are the limits of academic freedom.

---

A few semesters ago, I wrote a poem to be workshopped by my co-English staffers in Heights as part of our membership retention requirements. It was not a good poem, I know. It was about my experience of integrating with the striking workers of Sumifru, a multinational Japanese company that produces fruit, whose union was called NAMASUFA (Nagkahiusang Mamumuo sa Suyapa Farm). After struggling to get word out of their plight and facing violent dispersals and harassment, 200 workers came all the way from Compostela Valley to Metro Manila via boat and plane, despite the difficulties of travel due to the imposition of Martial Law throughout Mindanao. Their objective was to pressure the DOLE and its Secretary, Silvestre Bello III, into action; that is, to be firm in enforcing Sumifru’s compliance to regularize their workers, which the company refused to do even though the DOLE had legally recognized them as their workers’ employer. The workers set up camp in various places, such as Mendiola, Liwasang Bonifacio, and beside the Commission on Human Rights inside the University of the Philippines Diliman campus, and often welcomed students who came to learn about their cause.  

During the workshop, the discussion began with a silence and an awkward laugh. Political realism was how my poem was diagnosed, for obvious reasons. However, the main critique that I remember was that my use of language– the words multinational corporation and bureaucrat capitalists, in particular– did not induce the feeling of the struggle that the workers went through. It was not the language workers used or would use. I refuted this claim, saying I had talked to the workers. That this is exactly what they say. No, it is not poetic. It is real.

I agree, though, with the verdict that my poem was not good, if the basis were form. I agree because I do not think poems need to be good to say what is needed. If the basis were factors other than form, I still do not think the poem is good. I mean, either way, it does not change the fact that, ultimately, I only wrote a poem for a workshop, despite any intention of bringing awareness to NAMASUFA. Is a poem going to save them their jobs? Does that make a difference? Did it make a difference?

The Sumifru workers returned to Mindanao last July, 2019. I have left Heights as well.

---

Within the Ateneo campus, a tarpaulin overlooks the red brick road that the entire Loyola Schools population traverses. The sign merits a purposeful, impossible-to-miss position on the old Rizal Library building, immortalizing the critique: “We find the Ateneo today irrelevant to the Philippine situation because it can do no more than to service the power elite.” Nothing could be more fitting, in my opinion. The Ateneo de Manila University’s commitment to performativity deserves to be blasted in our faces, if at least once a day.

This declaration was taken from the “Down from the Hill” manifesto published by The Guidon in November of 1968. The manifesto was written by a group of five students, namely Jose Luis Alcuaz, Gerardo Esguerra, Emmanuel Lacaba, Leonardo Montemayor and Alfredo Salanga, all of whom actively campaigned for an anti-imperialist orientation to nationalism.

I want to talk about Eman Lacaba. Throughout the Marcos regime, he was a student activist– a radical, so to speak, as disapproving administrative bodies might now label him. Presently, he is known for being a poet, revolutionary, guerilla, and a martyr during the Martial Law era. One of his most often discussed poems is “An Open Letter to Filipino Artists”, a piece that finds itself into syllabi like a de-fanged snake. The poem is a detailing of his experience as a cadre of the New People’s Army; the provinces he visits, his process of proletarianizing from a burgis boy to a communist rebel, and so forth. The epigraph of the work, a quote from Ho Chi Minh, affirms his praxis– “A poet must learn how to lead an attack.” The poem is the revolution that Lacaba takes up arms for. I guess now that he is dead, Ateneans can wholeheartedly claim him as one of their own.  

After the Martial Law era, Ateneo decided to create a body dedicated to the integration of its students with various disenfranchised sectors of society, as encouragement for their middle to upper-middle class youth to become more socially aware and active. The Office of Social Concern and Involvement (OSCI) is the current iteration of this. Their programs, from first year to fourth, require students to be socially involved enough to pass their Theology units. Commendable, no? Still. You can almost get sanctioned for so much as lighting candles for state-murdered farmers on the sidewalk by the gates outside of campus if it is not an Office of Student Activities-approved event– something I learned the hard way. I was not aware that bureaucracy was a key principle in Catholic Social Teaching.

So, does this mean the opposite of active non-violence is that which is inactively violent? The areas that OSCI allows their students to immerse in are carefully chosen, the interactions are prepared for in advance. In fact, they do not want to use the term “immerse” lest they be misconstrued with the damn leftists that climb mountains and “brainwash” unsuspecting poor people. You know, the ones that dare challenge the status-quo? Ateneo, or at the very least, its administration, will recognize the necessity of political action, but only to a certain extent. Nothing like Eman, the warrior-poet, whose militance is much too red to aestheticize.

The contradiction between what is said (marketed, poeticized, apologized for, etc.) and what is done should be scrutinized, instead of convincing ourselves that our interests are not merely our own. The dominant culture of a society will expose who supports those who hold political and economic power.  

[1] Cigaral (List: Brands operated by Jollibee Foods Corp.)

[2] (Leadership)

[3] Patinio (Jollibee tops list of firms engaged in labor-only contracting: DOLE)

[4] SOH Sanggunian (The Statement of the SOH Sanggunian on Jollibee's PR Stunt)

[5] Karapatan (OPLAN BAYANIHAN For Beginners)

[6] Caparas (WITH VIDEOS: 3 dead, 87 missing, 116 hurt as police fire on Cotabato human barricade)

[7] Francisco (Ateneo de Manila 'sorry' over Imelda's visit)

[8] Paris (Irene Marcos was invited to Ateneo, and students are up in arms)

[9] Rappler.com (Ateneo hit for art ampitheater named after Marcos 'dummy')

Works Cited

Caparas, Jeff. “WITH VIDEOS: 3 Dead, 87 Missing, 116 Hurt as Police Fire on Cotabato Human Barricade.” InterAksyon.com, 1 Apr. 2016, web.archive.org/web/20160402013745/interaksyon.com/article/125901/breaking--security-forces-open-fire-on-cotabato-human-barricade.

Cigaral, Ian Nicolas. “List: Brands Operated by Jollibee Foods Corp.” Philstar.com, The Philippine Star, 24 July 2019, www.philstar.com/business/2019/07/24/1937490/list-brands-operated-jollibee-foods-corp.

Francisco, Katerina. “Ateneo De Manila 'Sorry' over Imelda's Visit.” Rappler, 6 July 2014, www.rappler.com/nation/62549-ateneo-manila-imelda-marcos-apology.

Karapatan (Alliance for the Advancement of People’s Rights). OPLAN BAYANIHAN For Beginners, Karapatan, 2011.

“Leadership.” Leadership | Ateneo Global, global.ateneo.edu/about/leadership.

Paris, Janella. “Irene Marcos Was Invited to Ateneo, and Students Are up in Arms.” Rappler, 8 Apr. 2019, www.rappler.com/nation/227702-irene-marcos-invited-to-ateneo-students-protest-april-2019.

Patinio, Ferdinand. “Jollibee Tops List of Firms Engaged in Labor-Only Contracting: DOLE.” Philippine News Agency RSS, Philippine News Agency, 28 May 2018, www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1036679.

Rappler.com. “Ateneo Hit for Art Ampitheater Named after Marcos 'Dummy'.” Rappler, 21 Apr. 2019, www.rappler.com/nation/228633-ateneo-ignacio-gimenez-ampitheater-marcos-dummy.

“SOH Sanggunian.” SOH Sanggunian - The Statement of the SOH Sanggunian on..., 2 July 2018, www.facebook.com/sohsanggu/photos/a.157891440898864/1893103380710986/?type=3.

#mine #nonfic #essay

[kansascityhappenings]

Family of alleged Texas school shooter says they are ‘shocked and confused’

Watch Video

SANTA FE, Texas — The family of the 17-year-old boy accused of killing 10 people at a Texas high school Friday issued a statement expressing condolences to the victims.

Dimitrios Pagourtzis’ family members said they are “as shocked and confused as anyone by these events that occurred.”

This photo provided by the Galveston County Sheriff’s Office shows Dimitrios Pagourtzis, who law enforcement officials took into custody Friday, May 18, 2018, and identified as the suspect in the deadly school shooting in Santa Fe, Texas, near Houston. (Galveston County Sheriff’s Office via AP)

Dimitrios Pagourtzis is a “smart, quiet, sweet boy,” they said.

A day after a school shooting in southeastern Texas left 10 dead and 13 others injured, the city of Santa Fe focused on mourning and recovery, as the area’s congressman said residents “will pull together” like they did after Hurricane Harvey months ago.

“We will grieve together, we will love one another, we will work together. We did it after Harvey — still doing it after Harvey,” US Rep. Randy Weber told reporters Saturday afternoon, referring to the storm that ravaged the Houston area in late August. “We’ll do it after this.”

“We will get through this,” he said.

Police say Dimitrios Pagourtzis, 17, used a shotgun and a revolver to shoot students and teachers at Santa Fe High School on Friday morning.

Pagourtzis told an investigator he acted alone and spared people he liked because he wanted his story told, a probable cause affidavit says.

On Saturday evening, a vigil for the victims is scheduled to be held on the other side of Houston, in the community of Spring.

One of the students who was killed was Jared Black, who turned 17 this week and was supposed to have a birthday party Saturday. A family friend told CNN his family learned of his death about 13 hours after the shooting.

Houston Texans star defensive end J.J. Watt has offered to pay the funeral expenses for victims of the massacre, according to a spokeswoman for the NFL team.

The Santa Fe school district will close its schools Monday and Tuesday, officials said — but students and staff are slowly being allowed to collect their belongings from part of the the high school.

Officers were escorting people back to the campus Saturday in groups of 10 to collect things such as valuables, keys and vehicles, school district Police Chief Walter Braun said. Fifty had returned to the school by the afternoon.

Pagourtzis was held without bail and is accused of capital murder of multiple people and aggravated assault on a public servant. Nine students and one teacher were killed, a law enforcement official told CNN.

Pagourtzis said little during a video court appearance Friday, answering, “Yes, sir,” when asked whether he wanted a court-appointed attorney. He was not asked to enter a plea, and bond was denied.

A shotgun and a .38 revolver

The gunfire at Santa Fe High School, not far from Houston in southeastern Texas, started Friday morning. The alleged shooter used a shotgun and a .38 revolver legally owned by his father, Gov. Greg Abbott told reporters.

Gunfire erupted at the school not long after classes began around 7:30 a.m. local time, officials said.

Two school resource officers were on the campus and confronted the shooter, Abbott said.

Authorities later found explosive devices — including pipe bombs and pressure cookers — in and near the school, a law enforcement official said.

Henry told reporters that the suspect had devices but none were functional. One was a pressure cooker with an alarm clock and nails, but no explosive material. Authorities also found an unlit Molotov cocktail, he said.

Investigators on Friday searched a trailer where they believe the devices were assembled, a law enforcement source said.

Investigators believe Pagourtzis acted alone, a law enforcement official told CNN on Saturday.

Earlier, Abbott and other officials indicated that two other people were being interviewed to see whether they were involved. But authorities now believe those two were not connected to the crime, the official said.

Exchange student among those killed

The victims killed included a Pakistani exchange student, Sabika Sheikh; student Chris Stone, 17; and a substitute teacher, Cynthia Tisdale.

The people hospitalized included retired Houston police Officer John Barnes, who served as a resource officer at the school.

Houston Police Chief Art Acevedo tweeted Friday afternoon that he had visited Barnes in the hospital, and the retired officer was “hanging in there.”

Barnes was in critical condition, the University of Texas Medical Branch said Saturday.

What we know about the shooting

This is the 22nd US school shooting so far this year, and the third instance in eight days in which a gunman was on a school campus.

Gunshots in an art room, and a fire alarm

A student, Damon Rabon, said he was in class when he heard a loud bang next door.

“We thought maybe someone was banging on the shop door or maybe something fell,” the senior said. Rabon said he followed his teacher, who went to investigate.

They heard three more bangs and saw the shooter come out of an art room.

“At this point we knew this was … really happening to us,” Rabon said.

They went back into their classroom and told others to help barricade the door.

A substitute teacher, David Briscoe, said he was teaching an English class when he heard screaming and gunshots, then a fire alarm.

Not knowing where the shooter was, he barricaded his classroom door with tables and desks, turned off the lights and told his students to get down. He told CNN he could hear someone outside the room groaning, apparently injured.

“It felt like hours before we got out of the school, but one of my students said it was 30 to 45 minutes,” Briscoe said. “I had around 10 to 15 students and I’m grateful they were safe.”

Angelica Martinez, 14, told CNN that an alarm sounded, as well as gunfire. She and her schoolmates at one point were evacuated “like it’s a fire drill.”

“We were all standing (outside), but not even five minutes later, we started hearing gunshots,” she said. “And then everybody starts running, but, like, the teachers are telling us to stay put, but we’re all just running away.”

“I didn’t see anybody shooting, but, like, (the gunshots) were kind of spaced,” Angelica said, adding she heard about four shots.

Another student, Dakota Shrader, told CNN affiliate KPRC that she heard gunshots after the alarm blared.

“I was in the history hallway, and as soon as we heard the alarms, everybody just started leaving, following the same procedure as … (a) practice fire drill,” Shrader said, breaking into tears. “And next thing you know, we just hear … three gunshots, loud explosions, and all the teachers are telling us to run.”

Police chief ‘hit rock bottom’

Acevedo said he was “not ashamed to admit I’ve shed tears of sadness, pain and anger” after the shooting.

“I know some have strong feelings about gun rights, but I want you to know I’ve hit rock bottom,” he said in a Facebook post, adding he would “de-friend” anyone who posted anything about “guns aren’t the problem.”

President Donald Trump addressed the school shooting, saying that mass shootings have been “going on too long.”

“Unfortunately, I have to begin by expressing our sadness and heartbreak over the deadly shooting at Santa Fe High School in Texas,” Trump said. “This has been going on too long in our country. Too many years. Too many decades now.”

Trump said federal authorities are coordinating with local officials.

“We grieve for the terrible loss of life and send our support to everyone affected by this absolutely horrific attack,” Trump said.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports http://fox4kc.com/2018/05/19/family-of-alleged-texas-school-shooter-says-they-are-shocked-and-confused/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2018/05/19/family-of-alleged-texas-school-shooter-says-they-are-shocked-and-confused/

[newstfionline]

What happens to children who survive school shootings in America?

By John Woodrow Cox and Steven Rich, Washington Post, March 21, 2018

Thirteen at Columbine. Twenty-six at Sandy Hook. Seventeen at Marjory Stoneman Douglas.

Over the past two decades, a handful of massacres that have come to define school shootings in this country are almost always remembered for the students and educators slain. Death tolls are repeated so often that the numbers and places become permanently linked.

What those figures fail to capture, though, is the collateral damage of this uniquely American crisis. Beginning with Columbine in 1999, more than 187,000 students attending at least 193 primary or secondary schools have experienced a shooting on campus during school hours, according to a year-long Washington Post analysis. This means that the number of children who have been shaken by gunfire in the places they go to learn exceeds the population of Eugene, Ore., or Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

Many are never the same.

School shootings remain extremely rare, representing a tiny fraction of the gun violence epidemic that, on average, leaves a child bleeding or dead every hour in the United States. While few of those incidents happen on campuses, the ones that do have spread fear across the country, changing the culture of education and how kids grow up.

Every day, threats send classrooms into lockdowns that can frighten students, even when they turn out to be false alarms. Thousands of schools conduct active-shooter drills in which kids as young as 4 hide in darkened closets and bathrooms from imaginary murderers.

“It’s no longer the default that going to school is going to make you feel safe,” said Bruce D. Perry, a psychiatrist and one of the country’s leading experts on childhood trauma. “Even kids who come from middle-class and upper-middle-class communities literally don’t feel safe in schools.”

Samantha Haviland understands the waves of fear created by the attacks as well as anyone.

At 16, she survived the carnage at Columbine High, a seminal moment in the evolution of modern school shootings. Now 35, she is the director of counseling for Denver’s public school system and has spent almost her entire professional life treating traumatized kids. Yet, she’s never fully escaped the effects of what happened to her on that morning in Littleton, Colo. The nightmares, always of being chased, lingered for years. Even now, the images of children walking out of schools with their hands up is too much for her to bear.

On Saturday, some of Haviland’s students, born in the years after Columbine, will participate in the Denver “March For Our Lives” to protest school gun violence. In Washington, students from Parkland, Fla.--still grieving the friends and classmates they lost last month--will lead a rally of as many as 500,000 people in the nation’s capital.

“They were born and raised in a society where mass shootings are a thing,” she said, recalling how much her community and schoolmates blamed themselves for the inexplicable attack by Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. “These students are saying, ‘No, no--these things are happening because you all can’t figure it out.’ They’re angry, and I think that anger is appropriate. And I hope they don’t let us get away with it.”

In analyzing school shootings, The Post found an average of 10 school shootings per year since Columbine, with a low of five in 2002 and a high of 15 in 2014. Less than three months into 2018, there have been 11 shootings, already making this year among the worst on record.

At least 129 kids, educators, staff and family members have been killed in assaults during school hours, and another 255 have been injured.

Schools in at least 36 states and the District have experienced a shooting, according to The Post’s count. They happen in big cities and small towns, in affluent suburbs and rural communities. The precise circumstances in each incident differed, but what all of them had in common was the profound damage they left behind.

Javon Davies, a sixth-grader at a Birmingham middle school, came home and told his mom, Mariama, that he and his classmates had spent the day in lockdown.

Javon, who is 12, had heard about Parkland. He and a friend suspected that they, too, might die at their school, so each of the boys wrote a will.

“Mom,” the other sixth-grader wrote in print letters, “I want to give my friend Javon every thing that I own that includes the xbox and games and controllers and all that comes with it.”

In Javon’s instructions, he listed his PlayStation 4, his Xbox 360 and his dirt bike.

“I love you my whole Family you mean the most to me,” he wrote. “You gave me the clothes on my back, you fed me, and you were always by my side.”

On the morning of May 15, 2017, Gage Meche, then 7, walked into his first-grade class and hung up his blue Nike backpack, then turned around. On the floor in front of him was a gun. It had just fallen out of another boy’s bag, and when a girl Gage had known since they were toddlers picked it up, the pistol fired, discharging a .380 round that blew through his stomach, tearing into his intestines and nicking a vena cava vein, which carries blood to the heart.

The boy who’d brought the gun had found it at home, investigators say. His father, Michael Dugas, had given the weapon to his older son, who was 17. The teenager kept it in his room, loaded, unlocked and inside a bag that hung on the wall.

Soon after the shooting, Dugas was charged with two misdemeanors, eventually receiving six months in prison for his negligence.

Gage, meanwhile, endured four surgeries then had to learn to walk and eat again. Now 8, his 40-pound body hurts almost all the time, said his mother, Krista LeBleu.

The girl who accidentally shot him still struggles with guilt and post-traumatic stress. At a church camp last summer, a water-pistol fight broke out, and when she saw the plastic guns, the girl began to weep.

Gage has changed, too, his mother said. He had been so excited to flip the coin before a local football game a few months ago, but when the team rushed onto the field, someone fired a cannon. The boy’s knees buckled, and he collapsed to the grass, trembling as he curled into a ball. He still has nightmares, but he tells his parents they’re too scary to talk about. Gage is also more aggressive than before, sometimes erupting for no reason. Afterward, he can’t explain what happened.

“I don’t know why I’m so bad,” he says.

What remains for school shooting survivors? Grief, guilt and fear.

One day in 2008, Samantha Haviland sat on the floor of a school library’s back room, the lights off, the door locked. Crouched all around her were teenagers, pretending that someone with a gun was trying to murder them.

No one there knew that Haviland, then a counselor in her mid-20s, had been at Columbine nine years earlier. On that day, April 20, 1999, she had been in the cafeteria, selling chips and soda from a food cart to raise money for the golf team. Haviland, always an overachiever, had taken second place at a tournament the day before and felt so good about it that she’d worn a blue dress and high-heeled clogs to school. As hundreds of kids ate their lunches, she and three friends talked about prom, which they’d gone to the previous weekend.

Then two girls burst into the room. Someone had been shot, they screamed. Someone had a gun.

Haviland froze, but her friends grabbed her, and they fled into the back of an auditorium. Moments later, she heard four or five shots and an explosion. Everyone sprinted out as Haviland briefly paused to take off her shoes. Barefoot, she ran after them and into the hallway, and just as she reached one door, it closed in front of her. A teacher in another part of the building had pulled the fire alarm and, as she would later learn, it saved her life, because down that corridor, Harris and Klebold were slaughtering anyone they could find.

Afterward, as the shock and grief solidified her plan to become a counselor, Haviland didn’t get counseling herself. She didn’t deserve it, she thought, not when classmates had died or been maimed. Many others had suffered far more, Haviland decided. She would be okay.

But now there she was, a decade later, sitting in the darkness, practicing once again to escape what so many of her friends did not. Then she heard footsteps. Then, beneath the door, she saw the shadow of an administrator who was checking the locks. Then her chest began to throb, and her body began to quake and, suddenly, Haviland knew she wouldn’t be okay.

Researchers who study trauma still aren’t certain why people who experience it as children react in such different ways. For some, it doesn’t surface for years, making the effects harder to trace back to their origin. For others, the torment overwhelms them from the start and, in many cases, never lets go.

Karson Robinson was 6 when a teenager opened fire on the playground of his elementary school in Townville, S.C., on Sept. 28, 2016. Three days later, on his seventh birthday, he learned that his beloved friend, Jacob Hall, hadn’t survived the bullet that hit him. That’s when the guilt took hold. Karson had leaped a fence and run at the first sound of the gunfire.

Maybe, Karson thought, he could have saved Jacob, the smallest child in their class, if he hadn’t fled. At home, Karson began to explode in anger, breaking anything he could reach. Other times, he insisted that everyone hated him.

In October, before a doctor finally diagnosed the boy with PTSD, he had a party for his eighth birthday, and at the end, they released balloons into the sky for Jacob. Afterward, he walked off by himself. His mother followed, asking what was wrong.

“I should have waited for Jacob,” he told her.

Haviland thinks a lot about the thousands of children like Karson who, she contends, America has done so little to protect since Columbine. Many of Haviland’s former classmates have found success and happiness, but others have tried to ease their pain with drugs and alcohol. Some have considered killing themselves.

One high school friend sent Haviland a message online a few weeks ago, saying that, since the Las Vegas slaughter this past October, she’d been so stricken with anxiety she could barely leave her house.

A decade ago, after Haviland’s panic attack in the library, she finally got therapy and has come a long way since. She goes to movies and malls and political rallies. She has so often told her story--of hearing the shots, taking off her shoes, sprinting barefoot through the hallways--that telling it again doesn’t wreck her anymore.

She knows, though, that the trauma remains.

Three years ago, someone accidentally pressed a panic button in the school where she was working, signaling to police that a shooter was in the building. Haviland wasn’t there at the time, but she pulled up in her car just as the officers did. Then, in front of her, she saw students streaming outside, their hands in the air.

She began to sob.

#school shootings #school shooting survivors