We Were Lucky: Living Through a Mall Shooting

In January 2020 my family was in a Las Vegas mall when we heard gunshots at a store 200 feet in front of us. The boys were separated from us, on the way to the bathroom. Scott and I ran like all the other terrified customers, while desperately calling and texting them to see where they were and if they were ok. We ran into a store closing its doors and hunkered down in the back. 

We found out the boys’ location - safe outside the mall, and the brave and selfless manager of the store led us through the back hallways to the boys. We darted from doorway to doorway, listening for more gunshots.  At one point she put us in a service elevator and two men jumped in with us. Scared, but utterly determined to get back to our kids, we rode the elevator with the two men who were obviously terrified as well. 

We ran out of the mall and grabbed the boys. I held them for a full minute while I sobbed uncontrollably.  The worst moment of my life followed by the best. 

We were lucky. We got out. We were not hurt. Think of all of the people who are not as lucky as us or whose lives are devastated by the loss of a family member due to gun violence.   

In February 2020, in an effort to continue processing this event, I wrote the following poem:

Bang. 

(Is this really happening?)

Bang.

(Where are the boys?)

Bang. 

(Run away.  Where are the boys?)

People screaming, running away from the noise

I run - but where to?  All I can do is move away from the noise and make sure my husband is with me.

Doors closing everywhere.  Will they let us in?

Where are the boys?  Did someone let them in?  Did they get out?  Are they in danger?

Where are the boys?  WHERE ARE THE BOYS?  Are they together? Are they scared?

They are safe.  They are outside. They have gotten away. They are waiting for us. 

Now we are not safe.  We are inside, huddled away from the door.  Out of sight of the shooter.

She, a brave soul, takes us away from the backroom, down the service hallway to get to the boys.

Will there be more shots?  Where is the shooter?  Around the corner?

Across the mall and back to the service hallway.

What the hell are we doing?  Are we in more danger?  Should we have stayed? Will this decision be a deadly mistake?

In the service elevator - “Go to this floor.  Make a quick left and then a right.  Then you are out.”

The brave soul takes her leave and returns to the safety of the store.  Why she helped us, I do not know.  She risked her life to bring us to the boys. 

As the doors begin to close, two men jump in.  

Are they the shooters?  Do they have guns? Will they hurt us?  Will we get to the boys?

I take a step back.  My husband puts his body in front of mine. 

The looks in their eyes say that they are scared like us and want out.  Now.

I take a breath and pray,  “Get us to the boys.” 

The door opens and the race is on.  Left.  Right.  Out the doors into the dark night.

Lights flashing.  People huddling.  Where are the boys?  Where are the boys?

Suddenly two familiar figures are yards away.  Safe.  Next to a police car.

I grab them and hold them to me. 

Tears streaming down my face.  Eyes closed, thanking God that we are safe and together.

Our family is safe.  We were lucky.

Lesson learned: Changing gun laws takes everyone.