A firsthand account from a survivor

The following is the first hand account of what happened last night. A very powerful, moving read from a very talented, brave young man.

Theater 8 I woke up on the morning of July 19th with an excited smile. I was going to see the new Batman movie, The Dark Knight Rises. I woke with Noemi next to me, and immediately began searching through our clothes for our Batman t-shirts. We were getting each other amped up for hours, reading Batman comics, watching the trailers – even playing Batman video games. Our excitement could no longer be contained, so we took our pre-printed tickets and left for Century 16 six hours before the show would begin. As we drove we talked of the scenes from the trailers and tried to plot bust the final film before we would see it. We walked through the doors smiling wide, looking at all of the people bearing the black and yellow symbol of The Dark Knight across their chests. We fiddled with a machine scanning our tickets unsuccessfully for several minutes before finally getting help from a cashier. As soon as our tickets came we walked in disbelief over to where they’d roped off an area for people to sit and wait, excited as children on Christmas morning. We were finally going to see our hero rise for the final time. I frantically kept checking my ticket stub, fearing it would disappear if I didn’t check that it was in my pocket every few seconds. I couldn’t stop smiling as I looked at it. Dark Knight Rises showed in bold letters across the top with House 8 directly below. We purchased our tickets at 7:14, and waited impatiently with wonderful people in line. We were the third and fourth people there in line, and couldn’t be happier. Shortly after we arrived we met a very nice and VERY excited guy (we later learned his name is Alex), and we talked for a good two hours. Everyone was friendly, excited… and smiling. We were counting down the minutes to when we’d finally see our hero again. To our surprise the doors to the theater opened around 9:35, and I was ushering Noemi to grab her purse and hurry behind me so we could get our usual seats. We like being at the very center of the middle row –perfect movie seats in my opinion. As we parted ways from our new friend from the line, he called, “see you after the movie!” As usual the trailers began, and we cheered as trailers for The Hobbit, and Man of Steel played out on the screen. Excitement rippled through the theater as usual quiet commentary echoed around the room of mixed opinions. Everyone’s cheers and whoops fell into dead silence as the screen showed Commissioner Gordon giving his piece at Harvey Dent’s funeral. From that moment on the room was silent, and enjoying the show. Our excitement grew steadily as new characters were introduced, and the story began to unfold. We were taken to the story of a cop, and into the middle of a harsh action packed gun battle. Suddenly it was as though the movie was no longer a movie, the chaos on the screen had manifested itself into the very room. At first the sounds of what I thought to be cheap fire crackers didn’t phase me. Smoke billowed around the right side of the theater where people had previously been entering. This still didn’t phase me. I was determined to ignore the asshole interrupting my film, I wasn’t going to let fire crackers ruin my night. Noemi gripped my arm, worried, looking closer. Suddenly I snapped back to reality. I felt pieces of grit hit my face and arms. A series of further pops echoed with the movie’s scene of grim gun fire, and more “smoke” billowed around the right side of the room. It didn’t occur to me until later that it was not smoke, or at least not just smoke. It was debris showering into the room from bullets coming through the walls. Our shared wall with theater 9. Screams could be heard over the roar of the movie. I took Noemi by the hand and led her down the isle with everyone else trying to get out. Some stayed in their seats in disbelief, even defiant – not willing to leave their seats. A man in a white shirt rushed into the room as the fire alarms went off, “don’t exit through the front, there’s a man out there shooting people.” The only light in the room came from the big screen, showing enough in the dim light to send my body shaking with fear.

As the sounds of groans and moans of pain became more coherent around us we realized people were injured. Even if we couldn’t spot them in the darkness, we could hear them. The shooting continued, barely audible over more screams. Finally, as though a switch of understanding struck me along with everyone else we began rushing back up the stairs towards the exits above at the top level – not the ones we came through. Noemi and I rushed out onto the bright and loud balcony level overlooking the main lobby. We were in the middle of what seemed like a war. Police officers with shot guns and pistols rushed below and out of sight while others guarded the stairs up to our level, ordering us to get down behind the wall. People rushed out through the front doors holding wounds, or doubled over in agony. I grabbed Noemi and pulled her behind me down the stairs, reassuring her as best I could. She pushed me away, yelling for me to run, but I grabbed her anyway and stayed with her on our dreamlike way out the front doors, completely in disbelief, fearing a bullet could tear it’s way through us at any given second. I don’t remember seeing many of the wounded, we got out quickly in the chaos of it all. The red and blue lights were as welcome as the Bat signal in the sky then, and I knew we were going to be okay. We moved well beyond the line of cop cars, knowing it should be safe. I walked up to a young boy, maybe my sister’s age with blood caked over his hands. I asked if he was okay, if he was hurt… It wasn’t his blood. He helped one of the wounded out of the building, and explained that the man had been hit pretty bad through one of his legs. The boy was holding up better than I was, he said, “I’m angry more than anything else, who does this? Who would do something like this?” I shook my head, unable to reply. Childish guilt and shame welled up inside of me. I wanted to go back, to help. I looked at Noemi and shook off the ridiculous feeling. There was nothing I could have done. I took her in my arms and made phone calls to family letting them know what had happened, and that we were okay. Rumors of a death passed from person to person. My world was shattered. I had to get her out of there. Without hesitation she led me back to the car, and I drove us out of the parking lot behind a line of cars trying to escape the massacre. Sirens cut through the air as countless police cars and ambulances rushed past us. The fear deepened as I saw this. I wanted answers. How many people were injured? How many had been killed? Did I know any of them? I still don’t know if I do know any of them. I am shaking as I type my story now, recalling what happened. 9 news plays the details as I type now. Twelve dead, around fifty wounded. It is nearly ten o’clock in the morning. Ten bodies still remain inside of the theater. If we hadn’t purchased our tickets in advance, or arrived for good seats five hours before the movie… would we have been in the seats where people were being hit with bullets and debris from the walls? I don’t know. What if we’d been in theater 9 instead of 8? Would I be alive to tell you my story? I don’t know. I never saw the man who shot up theater 9. I heard he was dressed in black, and wore a gas mask as he used a rifle and two pistols on helpless innocent people. Men, women, children. Children. Cute kids dressed up as the caped crusader or the infamous back breaking Bane. There is no justice that can be brought to James Holmes. He deserves a fate worse than the most agonizing death can offer. I want to see him burn alive, I want to hear him scream for what he has done. I will never forget what I witnessed just ten hours ago. Is it wrong to feel guilty for getting away unscathed? If I could trade places with any of the twelve, I would in a heartbeat. None of them deserved this. We live in a world plagued by villains. Batman was everywhere that night, defeated. Our heroes are the brave officers offering their lives on the line to protect us. They arrived to save the day, and got Holmes when he was at his car (I assume he was gathering more supplies to continue the slaughter). Noemi and I gave our statements and left just before rumors of bombs in the building began circulating. I am writing this now because my perspective needs to be shared. A friend of mine sent me a message on Facebook saying, “write, while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

The rest  of the story is here.