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

A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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) A heart-shaped balloon flies, decorating a memorial site outside Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, on 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 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) 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) Eight-year-old Jeremiah Lennon picks at a sign that reads "Uvlade 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)