*These aren’t the same pictures that were used in Time, I just used the ones I already had gotten from various sites through Google on my old laptop which I no longer have access too.*

Continued:

"….to safety as the killers moved in. Too terrified to look back, Kathy never saw the shooters, but she could tell they were close, very close. She stands over 6 ft; she knew she made a promising target. so while other kids raced down a first floor hallway, she leaped up on the stairs toward the second floor. she tried the door to one science room, but it was already locked. Furiously she worked her way down the hall finally to Science Room 3, into which two teachers were herding other kids.

     The class had been taking a long, nasty biology test when the explosions came. Lexis Coffey-Berg, 16, saw Sanders running toward them, saw him shot twice in the back, with a jolt and spasm. “You could see the impact,” she says, “You could see it go through his body. He was spitting up blood.” He stumbled into the room, blood streaming from his chest, and collapsed over the desk, knocking out his teeth.

      A teacher got the paramedics on the phone, and the classroom turned into a trauma ward. Aaron Hancey, a junior, had had some first-aid training, and the paramedics tried to talk the kids through the basic lifesaving treatment. Boys stripped off their shirts to make pillows for Sanders’ head and bandages for the bloody holes in his torso. They found some emergency blankets stashed with fire gear in that room and wrapped him up as his temperature started to fall. They could tell they were losing him.

     “I can’t breathe,” he murmured. “I’ve got to go.” But they kept talking to him, pulled his wallet out of his pocket and held up the pictures of his daughters. Tell us about them, they said. “He was breathing and awake the whole time,” Says Jody Clouse. “I’m sure the pain was great.” They made a sign with the dry-erase board and held it up in the window for the rescuers to see: HELP, BLEEDING TO DEATH. As the students prayed, Sanders every now and then managed to cough and spit out some blood to clear his lungs. But the time kept passing, and no one came, Sanders said: “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

       ON THE CLASSROOM TVS, THE barricaded students could see the SWAT teams assembling, the news choppers hovering and eventually the parents beginning to gather, as they and the rest of the country watched the siege take hold of the school. “[The police] didn’t know where the shooters were, or where the bombs were,” says Lexis, “so they couldn’t get us right away.” Her friends began writing notes to their parents, saying that they loved them, that they thought they were going to die. Everyone was praying. “In a world where there are so many religions,” says Lexis, “everyone was praying the same way.” One friend made a vow, “If I ever get out, I’m going to be nice to my little brother.”

      Elsewhere up and down the halls, students locked themselves in closets and classrooms, also calling out on their cellphones. They called police; they called parents; they called for anyone who could come and help get them out. Some could hear sounds of laughing in the hallways, as the shooters prowled through the smoke. They heard jeering. “Oh, you fucking nerd. Tonight’s a good night to die.” Senior Nick Foss and a friend ducked into a bathroom, punched through a ceiling panel and shimmied along the ventilation shaft. Suddenly one of the vents broke, and Foss fell 15 ft. down onto a table in the teachers lounge. Somehow uninjured, he picked himself up and sprinted out a door to freedom as the shooting continued behind him. “They were shooting everywhere; it seemed like they wanted to kill everything in sight,” he says. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life. It was run for your life or die.”

      His twin brother Adam, meanwhile was in trouble down the hall. He had been in choir practice, preparing for a concert that afternoon at an elementary school. When the shooting started, Adam and about 60 others crammed into the choir room office as explosions seemed to come closer and closer. They pushed a filing cabinet and two upended desks against the door. In the hot, stagnant air, several kids began to gag and cough. Shhh, quiet, the other said, fearing any sound would lure the killers, who or all they knew were right outside. The choir room lay near the top of the stars, close to where the carnage began, and very close to the library where it would finally end. Someone in the choir room whispered, “Who’s religious? Anybody in here religious?” The huddled students started to pray, very, very quietly. “I was terrified on the outside,” says Craig Nason, a junior. “But on the inside, God gave me peace. I felt like many others outside the school were praying for us.” The walls of the office kept shuddering with each shot and explosion, for an agonizing 20 minutes or so. Then things fell quiet, and they waited. When they reached the police by phone, pleading for rescue, they were told that the police had to move slowly because of possible booby traps. Some students with asthma started having trouble breathing, so others…”

*These aren’t the same pictures that were used in Time, I just used the ones I already had gotten from various sites through Google on my old laptop which I no longer have access too.*

Continued:

"….to safety as the killers moved in. Too terrified to look back, Kathy never saw the shooters, but she could tell they were close, very close. She stands over 6 ft; she knew she made a promising target. so while other kids raced down a first floor hallway, she leaped up on the stairs toward the second floor. she tried the door to one science room, but it was already locked. Furiously she worked her way down the hall finally to Science Room 3, into which two teachers were herding other kids.

     The class had been taking a long, nasty biology test when the explosions came. Lexis Coffey-Berg, 16, saw Sanders running toward them, saw him shot twice in the back, with a jolt and spasm. “You could see the impact,” she says, “You could see it go through his body. He was spitting up blood.” He stumbled into the room, blood streaming from his chest, and collapsed over the desk, knocking out his teeth.

      A teacher got the paramedics on the phone, and the classroom turned into a trauma ward. Aaron Hancey, a junior, had had some first-aid training, and the paramedics tried to talk the kids through the basic lifesaving treatment. Boys stripped off their shirts to make pillows for Sanders’ head and bandages for the bloody holes in his torso. They found some emergency blankets stashed with fire gear in that room and wrapped him up as his temperature started to fall. They could tell they were losing him.

     “I can’t breathe,” he murmured. “I’ve got to go.” But they kept talking to him, pulled his wallet out of his pocket and held up the pictures of his daughters. Tell us about them, they said. “He was breathing and awake the whole time,” Says Jody Clouse. “I’m sure the pain was great.” They made a sign with the dry-erase board and held it up in the window for the rescuers to see: HELP, BLEEDING TO DEATH. As the students prayed, Sanders every now and then managed to cough and spit out some blood to clear his lungs. But the time kept passing, and no one came, Sanders said: “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

       ON THE CLASSROOM TVS, THE barricaded students could see the SWAT teams assembling, the news choppers hovering and eventually the parents beginning to gather, as they and the rest of the country watched the siege take hold of the school. “[The police] didn’t know where the shooters were, or where the bombs were,” says Lexis, “so they couldn’t get us right away.” Her friends began writing notes to their parents, saying that they loved them, that they thought they were going to die. Everyone was praying. “In a world where there are so many religions,” says Lexis, “everyone was praying the same way.” One friend made a vow, “If I ever get out, I’m going to be nice to my little brother.”

      Elsewhere up and down the halls, students locked themselves in closets and classrooms, also calling out on their cellphones. They called police; they called parents; they called for anyone who could come and help get them out. Some could hear sounds of laughing in the hallways, as the shooters prowled through the smoke. They heard jeering. “Oh, you fucking nerd. Tonight’s a good night to die.” Senior Nick Foss and a friend ducked into a bathroom, punched through a ceiling panel and shimmied along the ventilation shaft. Suddenly one of the vents broke, and Foss fell 15 ft. down onto a table in the teachers lounge. Somehow uninjured, he picked himself up and sprinted out a door to freedom as the shooting continued behind him. “They were shooting everywhere; it seemed like they wanted to kill everything in sight,” he says. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life. It was run for your life or die.”

      His twin brother Adam, meanwhile was in trouble down the hall. He had been in choir practice, preparing for a concert that afternoon at an elementary school. When the shooting started, Adam and about 60 others crammed into the choir room office as explosions seemed to come closer and closer. They pushed a filing cabinet and two upended desks against the door. In the hot, stagnant air, several kids began to gag and cough. Shhh, quiet, the other said, fearing any sound would lure the killers, who or all they knew were right outside. The choir room lay near the top of the stars, close to where the carnage began, and very close to the library where it would finally end. Someone in the choir room whispered, “Who’s religious? Anybody in here religious?” The huddled students started to pray, very, very quietly. “I was terrified on the outside,” says Craig Nason, a junior. “But on the inside, God gave me peace. I felt like many others outside the school were praying for us.” The walls of the office kept shuddering with each shot and explosion, for an agonizing 20 minutes or so. Then things fell quiet, and they waited. When they reached the police by phone, pleading for rescue, they were told that the police had to move slowly because of possible booby traps. Some students with asthma started having trouble breathing, so others…”

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This blog was made to help you come to your OWN conclusion of why certain events might have occurred on April 20, 1999, with the information I will provide you.

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