Part One Time bomb in the classroom Problem teen-ager hides in the cracks Lingering problems: After Moses Lake, violence leaves mark In Olympia, lawmakers toe line between violence, rights Numbers don't always add up Part Two Eye on violence: Schools beef up security, find new ways to curb problems Prevention starts in college classroom Blessed are the peacemakers Poll shows public wants solutions Programs show students how to recognize, avoid potential problem areas Part Three A child's death, A mother's pain Alice Fritz describes heartbreak of losing her son to violence Getting connected: Students who get involved early have better chance of doing well Guidelines for getting involved Laws give students protection from action Many give warnings before violence Seeing the signs Credits Resources Alice Fritz describes heartbreak of losing her son to violence By Alice Fritz MOSES LAKE - The year he died, my son said, "Mom, if one of your children died, you'd lose your mind, and we'd have to put you in a hospital." We had been watching news coverage of an accident that had taken the life of a teen-ager in Moses Lake. I knew what Arnie meant. He couldn't imagine how I could live without him. My mind couldn't comprehend such a loss, either. I assured him that parents did survive, that God would meet their needs. Now, the conversation is bittersweet to remember. My wonderful son Arnie has been dead three years. On Feb. 2, 1996, during fifth-period algebra, Arnie was shot by a classmate. The bullet passed through his arm, his right lung, his heart, his left lung and exited his lower back. Although his wounds were mortal, he did not die immediately, as his classmate Manuel Vela and teacher Leona Caires did. Arnie ran to the back of the room and stumbled up the far side of the classroom, where he fell to the floor. I hope he was unconscious. He was pronounced dead more than an hour later. His classmate Natalie Hintz was terribly wounded and spent weeks fighting for her life. I can only imagine the terror the other children experienced: Their teacher frozen in death, her marker and eraser still in her hands. Manuel lying in a pool of blood, motionless. Natalie screaming "Why did you shoot me?" as she cradled her wounded body. And as Arnie struggled to breathe, the terrible sounds as his lungs filled with blood. I often heard people speak of how thankful the surviving children should be. Of course, I agree. But the trauma they experienced that day must not be underestimated. The anguish parents experience with the death of a child is beyond the realm of language. For several weeks, I referred to Arnie's death as an "accident." I could not bring myself to say "murder." Our family was immediately thrown into a surreal world where our grief had to be experienced in the midst of unfamiliar legal procedures, the constant presence of the press and a community and school district dealing with their own experiences of loss and denial. Within days of Arnie's funeral, we were in court. Thankfully, shock still was protecting us from the full effect of our experiences. With immense relief, I found myself in a confused state of sadness, but without hatred as I saw Barry Loukaitis for the first time. Throughout the next 18 months, many days were spent in court. The truth about Barry was heartbreaking: This boy who had killed Arnie was suffering. He was mentally and emotionally ill and filled with rage. His needs went unmet, his cries for help ignored and his threats dismissed. And then, Barry did what he stated he would do. He went on a killing spree. Arnie was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Our precious boy was killed. Our lives would never be the same. The purpose of the trial of Barry Loukaitis was not to discover the whole truth, only the truth concerning the guilt or innocence of Barry. Many questions arose concerning the entire truth surrounding the day of the shootings and the preceding weeks. The Moses Lake School District's official statement made within hours of the shootings was "this could not have been prevented." Because of the deep respect and affection I have for many of the people employed in our son's school, I felt a desire to protect them as well. But what do we do when wonderful people make terrible mistakes? Our need for "closure" is valid. But even more important is our responsibly to learn all we can to prevent future tragedies. I feel a responsibility to share my experience with parents of children in public schools. Please learn what policies your district has in place and what laws apply concerning weapons on campus, intimidation of students and the notification of parents of victim and victimizer. Are parents notified of written or verbal threats? What physical boundaries are present to prevent weapons being brought to campus? Is the public notified when weapons are discovered in school? Dedicated teachers who love children need policies in place and enforced to protect themselves and their students. We can and must insist on this. To the six communities across the nation suffering trauma similar to ours, I would say: "Please know that the love and support you show the families involved in these tragedies is appreciated deeply, but difficult to acknowledge on such a large scale. Memorial services on the anniversaries of the tragedy and physical memorials acknowledge the value of the lives lost and promotes healing. Most importantly, the children who survived will be affected by this experience their entire lives. Especially the first few years. Please remember to acknowledge the terror they survived. Providing long-term, specially trained counseling is essential. Fight the natural inclination to "move on and put this behind us," before the full truth is known and the grieving process is completed. Let's all share what we have learned. It's the least we can do. 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