Close
KTAR.com
News
Shows
Blogs
KTAR News on 92.3FM

Empty spaces, broken hearts in a Texas town gutted by loss

Eight-year-old Jeremiah Lennon picks at a sign that reads "Uvalde Strong" which he helped decorate and stuck on an electric pole in front of his home on Saturday, May 28, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. The third grader had been in classroom 112, just next to the rooms where the shooter holed up. The 15 kids in his class sat on the ground in the corner, as quiet as they could be, he said. The gunman tried to get in but the door was locked. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Dan Beazley, right, with his son Joey Beazley, from Detroit, carry a wooden cross as they pray at a memorial outside Robb Elementary School days after a deadly school shooting in Uvalde, Texas, Monday, May 30, 2022. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Eight-year-old Jeremiah Lennon, second from left, plays on a trampoline with relatives, Saturday, May 28, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. The third grader had been in classroom 112, just next to the rooms where the shooter holed up. The kids in his class sat on the ground in the corner, as quiet as they could be, he said. The gunman tried to get in but the door was locked. Jeremiah said he was mad at first, because they were missing recess. He was also terrified: "I was scared I would get shot, my friends would get shot." (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Crosses and balloons are seen reflected in a water fountain at the town square on Thursday, May 26, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Raquel Martinez, comforts her two daughters while her husband, Daniel Martinez, comforts their sons outside Robb Elementary School, on Thursday, May 26, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. Martinez and her four children stayed home for days, holding each other. They're scared, she said. Her two daughters, 15 and 11 years old, stood crying at a memorial. They'd both been taught by the two teachers who died, Irma Garcia and Eva Mireles. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Two heart balloons are silhouetted against the dusk sky at a memorial site for victims of the mass shooting at Robb Elementary School in the town square of Uvalde, Texas, Friday, May 27, 2022. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) The family of 8-year-old Jeremiah Lennon sits in their front yard at home, Saturday, May 28, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. The third grader had been in classroom 112, just next to the rooms where the shooter holed up. The kids in his class sat on the ground in the corner, as quiet as they could be, he said. The gunman tried to get in but the door was locked. Jeremiah said he was mad at first, because they were missing recess. He was also terrified: "I was scared I would get shot, my friends would get shot." (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) A teddy bear sits alone on a park bench under a bouquet of red balloons at the memorial site for victims of the mass shooting at Robb Elementary School in the town square of Uvalde, Texas on Saturday, May 28, 2022. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) A woman weeps as she prays at the memorial site for victims of the mass shooting at Robb Elementary School in the town square of Uvalde, Texas on Saturday, May 28, 2022. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) A woman pets a comfort dog named Gabriel at the memorial site for victims of the mass shooting at Robb Elementary School in the town square of Uvalde, Texas, on Saturday, May 28, 2022. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) An elderly man visits the memorial site for victims of the mass shooting at Robb Elementary School in the town square of Uvalde, Texas on Sunday, May 29, 2022. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) People are seen through a reflection off the window of a beauty school where a sign that reads "Uvalde Strong" is painted, days after a deadly school shooting took the lives of 19 children and two teachers, on Sunday, May 29, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) People make their way toward a memorial site set up for victims of the mass shooting at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, Sunday, May 29, 2022. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Sunlight illuminates ribbons that decorate trees at a memorial site in the town square on Friday, May 27, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas days after a deadly school shooting took the lives of 19 children and two teachers. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Chalk messages reading "I love you, I miss you," decorate the footpath at a memorial site in the town square, Friday, May 27, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone in the fatal school shooting. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Balloons and Catholic rosaries hang on a cross to honor Maite Yuleana Rodriguez at a memorial site on Saturday, May 28, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. In a town as small as Uvalde, Texas, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone in the recent school shooting. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Eight-year-old Jeremiah Lennon hugs his puppy named "Peanut" at his home on Saturday, May 28, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. The third grader had been in classroom 112, just next to the rooms where the shooter holed up. The 15 kids in his class sat on the ground in the corner, as quiet as they could be, he said. The gunman tried to get in but the door was locked. Jeremiah said he was mad at first, because they were missing recess. He was also terrified: "I was scared I would get shot, my friends would get shot." (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Empty swings hang still at Uvalde Memorial Park on Friday, May 27, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. The places where kids would have played are closed or quiet after after a deadly school shooting took the lives of 19 children and two teachers. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Morning sunlight is reflected off a road sign indicating the distance to Uvalde, Texas, on Saturday, May 28, 2022, in Texas. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone at the fatal school shooting at Robb Elementary. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) A drive-thru convenience store signage displays the words "Pray for Uvalde" on Sunday, May 29, 2022, days after a deadly school shooting took the lives of 19 children and two teachers, in Uvalde, Texas. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Vincent Salazar, father of Layla Salazar who was killed in the mass shooting at Robb Elementary School is comforted as he weeps at a memorial site, on Friday, May 27, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) A boy plays on a swing at the Uvalde Memorial Park on Friday, May 27, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Dorina Davila, left, from San Antonio, places flowers at a memorial outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, Monday, May 30, 2022. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) The American and Texas flags are flown at half mast at dusk on Thursday, May 26, 2022, days after a deadly school shooting, in Uvalde, Texas. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) A sign is placed in front of a candy store informing customers of their closure in support of their community, which is grieving the loss of those killed during the mass shooting at Robb Elementary School on May 24, in Uvalde, Texas, Friday, May 27, 2022. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Alex Covarrubias holds up a sign at a street corner for the victims of a mass shooting that happened at Robb Elementary School, Thursday, May 26, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. In a town as small as Uvalde, Texas, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Josie Albrecht, a school bus driver who shuttled Uvalde's children to and from school writes a message on a toy school bus she brought to honor Rojelio Torres at a memorial site for those killed in a mass shooting at Robb Elementary School on Sunday, May 29, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. "I love you and will miss you," she wrote on it, and drew a broken heart at the place where he used to sit, in the back. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) Josie Albrecht, a school bus driver, visits a memorial site for those killed in a mass shooting at Robb Elementary School, Sunday, May 29, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. Albrecht had planned a pizza party to celebrate that afternoon. But before she could pick the students up and drive them home, a gunman walked into their school and started shooting. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) A toy yellow school bus is placed in front of a cross to honor Rojelio Torres, one of the children killed during the mass shooting in Robb Elementary School, while an American flag is seen in the foreground, Sunday, May 29, 2022, in Uvalde, Texas. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas. In a town as small as Uvalde, even those who didn't lose their own child lost someone. Some say now that closeness is both their blessing and their curse: they can lean on each other to grieve. But every single one of them is grieving. (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E)