Pain Recalled With Memorial In Moses Lake Dedication At School Draws Mixed Reaction
Dylan Vela sat on the grass at the Moses Lake dedication service, waving his Barney toy and clapping when people told him to.
Relatives doubt the boy, almost 3, understood why he was there Saturday morning. Earlier, he’d asked his mom, “Is brother coming? Is brother coming?”
Dylan wore a pin picturing his older brother, but he’s never met him. Manuel Vela was among the first children killed in a string of school shootings across the country, four months before Dylan was born.
On Saturday, three years after Vela and two others were killed in a Frontier Junior High School math class, hundreds of people dedicated a memorial to the victims - a circle of flagstone surrounded with freshly planted trees and flowers.
The boys’ mother, Licha Vela, thinks it’s ironic that Dylan is old enough to clap his way through a service she says is long overdue. Manuel died in February 1996, when classmate Barry Loukaitis arrived at school with guns under his trench coat.
“It’s been a long time coming, but I’m really very happy,” she said. “I don’t want Manuel’s memory to die.”
It was a morning of mixed emotions for Moses Lake residents. Some people believe the new basalt monuments listing victims’ names are good reminders of lives lost and saved. Others worry they’re grim mementos that future generations of children will face every day.
That’s one reason the memorial is away from the main street and tucked into a corner where two wings of the red-brick school intersect, said P.J. De Benedetti, school district spokesman. It’s convenient for people who want to visit and avoidable for those who don’t.
De Benedetti said the project, paid for with donations and school district money, was delayed because school officials wanted to wait until renovations were complete. It was delayed again when organizers aiming for a third-anniversary service didn’t ask for school board approval, he said.
“We just believe the district didn’t want to acknowledge it,” said Shannon Hintz, whose daughter, Natalie, still hasn’t fully recovered from injuries suffered in the shooting.
Trying to push aside such a horrid memory is easier than reflecting and learning from it, Hintz said.
“It’s just a tough place for people to go. You can always point to another town and say what they were doing wrong. But to point back at yourself and say what we did wrong, those issues are hard to swallow.”
On Saturday, about 350 people spent the morning remembering. Trumpets played “Amazing Grace.” Students sang about escape from pain. Pastors prayed. People pretended not to notice a couple of misspelled names on the monuments.
A middle-aged woman removed her glasses and dabbed tears while listening to a poem about children whisked away “to that schoolhouse in the sky.”
Superintendent Steve Chestnut called the monuments an appropriate way to remember unforgettable events.
Nikki Greenwalt and Emily Stuber, who watched while classmates and their teacher, Leona Caires, were gunned down, spotted their names on a tall monument that honored everyone in the classroom at the time.
“It’s weird that our names are going to be on that forever,” said Greenwalt, now a junior at Moses Lake High School. “And nobody’s going to know us.”
Elisha Trefz, 17, ducked as wind whipped about the white balloons people would later release. “When we graduate, we might come back here and, you know, come look at it.
“It’s a painful thing,” he said, noting few of his classmates attended. “Maybe that’s why they didn’t come right now. But maybe they’ll come.”
Several people talked about the jumble of emotions they feel when national news reporters talk about the string of school shootings. They always mention the tragedies in Paducah, Ky., and Springfield, Ore., and several other towns. But they seldom mention Moses Lake.
“You don’t want to be remembered for it, and yet we’re left out in a sense, too,” said Colleen Trefz, who organized the dedication.
Alice Fritz, whose youngest child and only son, Arnold, died in the classroom siege, believes that’s because so many Moses Lake folks wanted life to go on as if Feb. 2, 1996, never happened.
“I think if we had shared our experience sooner, maybe we could’ve prevented some of the other (school shootings),” she said. “Children like Barry are fairly easy to spot. We kind of missed our chance there.”
Some residents say they expect the memorial to bring a sense of closure to the community. But not Fritz. Not Hintz. And definitely not Vela.
“I don’t want closure,” Vela said. “When we meet in heaven, that will be closure.”
In the meantime, Hintz and Fritz plan to stay busy visiting other communities that are grappling with the aftermath of school shootings.
“What will we tell them? That our grief is legitimate,” Hintz said. “And don’t let people hurry you through it.”