a student teacher, to “get out.” He showed her the gun and she reluctantly obeyed. Three students remained in the room, unaware of what had transpired. They sat at a table eating their lunches and doing homework through the break period. Among them was Kayla Fields, 17, a junior. Sean approached the students and in a calm, quiet whisper, directed his instructions to a boy sitting near her, Fields recalls. She stopped eating her submarine sandwich and could just make out the conversation: “Leave.” “Why? What are you talking about?” the boy asked. Sean then revealed the gun. “What’s that?” Sean repeated the order and when the boy did not comply, he drew the gun and fired a single bullet, Fields says. It harmlessly struck a cabinet. “Man, why did you have to go and do that?” said the boy, who stood up and strode toward the door. Fields remembers thinking that it must be a prank, that it must be only a powerful cap gun because she never heard a bullet casing clink against the tile floor. That incongruity stuck in her mind. “I’m going to kick your butt,” she thought. “You’re stupid for bringing that to school.” Finally the gravity of the situation hit. “Maybe I’m a hostage now,” she considered. With that, a teacher entered through a side door that connected to an adjacent classroom. Sean trained the gun on the teacher, Fields says, and she and the other student started for the hall. The teacher closed the side door and retreated, too. Looking over her shoulder, Sean appeared at ease, Fields recalls: “He was just sitting — really calm, really laid-back, really casually lounging. He didn’t look angry or sad or upset. He was smart. He knew what he was doing.” As Fields escaped into the hallway, the door swung shut behind her.
O
fficer Gately pulled up in front of the school about five minutes later, right as the first two-officer unit arrived. From the trunk, he promptly grabbed a ballistic helmet, a 12-gauge shotgun with beanbag rounds and a Colt AR-15, a semiautomatic version of the M-16 rifle used in the Army. “Just in case,” he recalls thinking. Students were streaming out of the school and onto the sidewalk and streets. The fire alarm was ringing. Gately can still see their faces, creased with confusion, fear welling in the teens’ eyes. “They see what you put on, and they kind of go, ‘Whoa,’” recalls Gately. Gately strode up the front steps with the other officers. There were five of them now inside the vestibule. Officer Kevin Keller, a trained SWAT member, talked with the school security officer and Principal Jon Swett. Keller learned of Sean’s name and his approximate location, somewhere among two or three rooms on the third floor. Gately appointed the other officers a position in a diamond formation: Keller at the front, Officer Alan Edwards to the left, Gately to the right and Officers Stephanie Kennedy and Nate Spiering covering the rear point. Just as they had trained for such an event, the team moved out as one. The five officers marched through the hallways shouting at lingering students to get out of the building. They ascended the stairs while dozens of other officers combed through the lower floors. At the crest of the third flight of stairs, Gately cried out, “Sean, Sean.” Within seconds, the door to Room 307 creaked outward into the hallway. It was 11:23. Just inside the threshold stood a small, waist-high barricade consisting of a filing cabinet and short bookshelf, Gately says. And beyond that, framed by the open door, was Sean Fitzpatrick. He wore cargo pants and a black T-shirt with some sort of face printed on it. In his right hand, clearly visible to Gately, was a 9-millimeter handgun — a model often carried by law enforcement. Sean stood about 15 feet away. “He said we got there too fast,” Gately recalls. “We interrupted him. What he meant by that, I still don’t know.” Visit Inlander.com to read the rest of this article.
Happy 20th Anniversary, Inlander! PRESENTS
Friday, November 1st Saturday, November 2nd Friday, November 8th Saturday, November 9th Sunday, November 10th
7pm 3pm & 7pm 7pm 3pm & 7pm 3pm
901 W. Sprague Avenue
Tickets Available Online at www.cytspokane.com Adults $12 • Children (12 & Under) $11 • Seniors (65+) $11 Group Discount (10 or More Tickets) $10
Then 1993
...
5,915
Number of people in need who were served
38,004
Number of meals served
1,888
Volunteers
Now... 2013 77,407
Number of people in need who are served annually
68,100
Number of meals served
6,078
Volunteers
Happy 20th Birthday Inlander! —Catholic Charities Spokane Serving those in need since 1912 (509) 358-4250
OCTOBER 24, 2013 20TH ANNIVERSARY 47