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Emily's gift
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John Michael Keyes, Emily's father: They brought Emily out in front of me: 30 yards away maybe.
Minutes after a SWAT team forced its way into the classroom where a gunman was holding Emily Keyes hostage, her dad finally set eyes on his daughter—but it was hardly the joyful reunion he’d imagined. Emily was on a gurney: he couldn’t even see her face.
John Michael Keyes: I said, ‘Is there anything that would provide her comfort right now?’ And he said ‘no.’ And I knew at that point.
Before Emily’s dad could even grasp what was happening, his daughter was whisked away on a “flight for life” helicopter.
John Michael Keyes: They got her on the helicopter. Somebody put me in a sheriff’s car.
The car stopped to pick up Emily’s mom. It was the first time her parents had seen each other since all the horror began to unfold.
But now, there was nothing to say. It was a profoundly sad, and silent, ride.
Ellen Keyes: We maybe said five words to each other on the way down. Because you hope that this is the miracle.
John Michael Keyes: It was a very quiet ride. Tears.
At the same time, the helicopter carrying their daughter landed on the roof of this hospital and doctors rushed to her side.
Meredith Vieira, NBC News: And when you got to the hospital, the doctors were waiting?
Ellen Keyes: We were put into a comfortable room. And they sent a surgeon in.
John Michael Keyes: And a chaplain.
Ellen Keyes: And honestly, it wasn’t that tearful. I was so numb. That all the tears come later.
Emily Keyes, who’d celebrated her 16th birthday only two weeks earlier, was pronounced dead at 4:32 p.m. on September 27th. Her death was so abrupt, the only thing her adoring parents wanted was to hug her dearest friend—her twin brother Casey.
Ellen Keyes: He came to the hospital with friends later. And that’s when we were finally able to hug him. That was increasingly important --- just touching my son.
As Emily’s family grieved, Sheriff Fred Wegener agonized. He had made the fateful decision to send in the SWAT team.
Vieira: Was that the hardest decision you had to make that day?
Wegener: Hopefully it was the hardest decision I’ll ever make. I was mad.
Vieira: Mad?
Wegener: Mad that it came to this. Mad that he entered the school.
But anger was not what motivated Sheriff Wegener, it was 5 teenage girls describing unspeakable abuse and a gunman who not only still had two hostages, but claimed to have a bomb—and had issued an ominous warning that something would go down at 4 p.m.
Wegener: The fact that he broke off the conversation.
Vieira: Is that what did it for you?
Wegener: Yeah. I think that did. I just felt I couldn’t wait to 1600 to see what was gonna happen.
Vieira: That has to be a very difficult decision to make, because you know he’s in the room with two students.
Wegener: Correct. And that he’s armed.
Vieira: And you’re now thinking about storming the room and anything can happen.
Wegener: The frustration level is probably at an all-time high right about now.
The SWAT team used explosives to storm the classroom from three different locations. The gunman inside room fired back and there was a barrage of bullets.
Wegener: He shot the shield as they were coming in.
Vieira: The shield that they hold in front of themselves…
Wegener: Yeah.
It did not end the way the sheriff had hoped. Even in the hail of gunfire, one girl ran for freedom. But tragically, Emily Keyes wasn’t as lucky.
The gunman clutched Emily, using her as a human shield -- then he fired once at Emily’s head before turning the gun on himself.
The people of Bailey, Colorado immediately embraced their sheriff, flooding his office with calls of support, never once questioning his decision. But Fred Wegener has second guessed himself ever since.
Wegener: For me, it’s gonna beat me up every day, because I still have to live with Emily’s death. That’s nobody else’s responsibility. That’s mine.
Vieira: You didn’t take Emily’s life Fred.
Wegener: (emotional) No. But the decision. So the decision is mine, so I have to stay with that.
Vieira: Well, I only know that this community has embraced you.
Wegener: Oh, very much so.
Vieira: And said 'thank you' to you.
Wegener: Yeah, yeah.
Vieira: Quite the opposite of where you might be in your head.
Wegener: Yeah, it’s a great community.
If the way the community rallied on his behalf was surprising, nothing prepared the sheriff for the reaction he got when he visited Emily’s parents the day after her murder. He came to apologize.
Vieira: Emily’s dad—
Wegener: Emily’s dad. Great guy.
Vieira: He gave you a hug.
Wegener: Yeah —
Vieira: He said thank you.
Of all things, a thank you and a heartfelt, warm embrace.
Vieira: What did he say to the two of you?
John Michael Keyes: I’m sorry.
Vieira: You hugged him.
John Michael Keyes: Absolutely.
Vieira: You say absolutely, as if there could be no other response. You lost your daughter.
John Michael Keyes: I know. This community needs to heal. And I know this guy—I know Fred—don’t always agree with him as you probably visually can tell (laughter).
Vieira: The hippie and the law enforcement you mean (laughter)?John Michael Keyes: It was a horrible outcome but he was there for my girl, and those other girls.
Ellen Keyes: And he’s known our family for years. Maybe if he did something different, there would have been a different result. But we can play the what if game all day. We just agree with him that he made the right decision.
It was a remarkable response from a remarkably strong family whose generosity and grace has extended all the way to the man who murdered their daughter.
Vieira: Is there anger at this man who took your daughter? At this situation?
John Michael Keyes: No.
Ellen Keyes: It’s a dead end.
Vieira: But it’s so easy to go there.
John Michael Keyes: Don’t -- it’s irrelevant. That doesn’t matter. That man did a horrible thing. Done. We don’t need to focus on the bad.
Vieira: The bad being that man?
John Michael Keyes: Yeah.
That man is Duane Morrison, a 53-year-old drifter who’d been living out of this jeep. While Emily’s parents say they don’t even want to hear his name, Sheriff Wegener is desperate to know why this man picked his town, this school.
Vieira: That’s the question you want answered, “Why”?
Wegener: That’s exactly right, yes.
Vieira: You wanna know why Duane Morrison —
Wegener: Came to that school, why he had to shoot Emily, why he had to hurt those other girls.
Vieira: So where does that leave you at the end of the day?
Wegener: Still shaking my head.
The things the sheriff does know about Duane Morrison are both mundane and bizarre.
He’d worked as a carpenter in the Denver area, and in an almost creepy twist, claimed to be a co-owner of a haunted house called “Primitive Fear.” His has a short record of minor criminal offenses, with arrests for larceny and marijuana possession.
Police found his jeep parked in the high school parking lot. Inside: camping gear, prescription pills, and a key to this 40 dollar a night motel. The morning of his rampage, he mailed a 14-page letter to his brother.
Wegener: I consider it to be a suicide note. He very much talks about the end. He also talks about how his family is not going to be proud of him.
Vieira: Do you believe that this man set out Wednesday morning, that he had it in his head, Duane Morrison, that ‘I’m gonna go into this school and I’m not gonna come out alive?”
Wegener: Yes.
Disturbingly, Morrison’s backpack contained no bomb—just a collection of sex toys. And he did have an affection for guns—he once called police to report 15 had been stolen from his apartment.
There were also hints of a violent temper. Two years ago, in as profanity-laced phone message, he threatened to kill salesmen at a motorcycle store because they’d sent him some promotional fliers.
Rumors that this violent man had entered Platte Canyon high school with a list of names, perhaps seeking out specific students, even Emily Keyes herself, don’t seem to be valid.
But none of it matters one bit to Emily’s family. They refuse to think about the gunman who murdered their daughter, focusing instead on a campaign they call “random acts of kindness for Emily.” It’s the idea being that people should respond to this seemingly random act of violence by performing random acts of kindness.
Vieira: How were you able to take this, so quickly and transform it into something positive?
John Michael Keyes: Maybe it’s Emily’s gift. "I love you guys." Maybe that’s it.
Vieira: That text message?
John Michael Keyes: Her message. Her heart. Always, “I love you guys.”
The response in Bailey has astounded Emily’s family. The entire town is plastered with pink ribbons and the color pink, Emily’s favorite, is everywhere.
Vieira: You can’t go anywhere in this town without seeing it. On the one hand it’s such a tribute to Emily, but it’s a reminder too.
John Michael Keyes: You know, a reminder isn’t bad.
Vieira: Yeah.
John Michael Keyes: It’s not bad. I don’t wanna forget.
Vieira: It seems to me the first act of random kindness was Emily’s. She wanted — if anything were to ever happen to her— she had requested, from what I understand, that her organs be donated and you honored that request.
John Michael Keyes: Yeah.
Ellen Keyes: A-huh
Vieira: Was that a hard request to honor? Or did it just feel…
Ellen Keyes: No.
John Michael Keyes: Not a bit.
Vieira: Do you find yourselves talking to Emily?
Ellen Keyes: Yes.
John Michael Keyes: Oh (sighs) all the time. Sometimes I forget. I forget that it happened for just a split second and so it’s a “Gasp. Oh! Because I forgot for a split second that she was gone.”
The tears mostly come in private, at quiet times. Yet even as this remarkable family struggles to come to grips with the loss of their beloved Emily, they are continually moved by the many touching gestures of kindness their close-knit town ... indeed, the whole world, has extended.
Last month, Emily was one of 3,000 kids who attended PeaceJam, a Denver event attended by Nobel Laureates and young activists to promote peace. Desmond Tutu was in the crowd—and on Tuesday, he sent Emily’s mom this moving email.
“Your reaction to the murder of your beautiful Emily is inspiring and awesome” it reads ... “Emily is smiling at you from on high. May God wipe the tears from your eyes” ... “It is a privilege to have shared this planet with her — and you.”
John Michael Keyes: Emily was brave. She did some brave things in there.
Ellen Keyes: She’s our little hero.
John Michael Keyes: She was a force of nature. She was magic. (sigh) I miss her. God.
Yet Emily’s family will forever be comforted by those four simple, but now so poignant and meaningful words: I love you guys.
Emily’s family and friends have set up a charity in Emily’s memory. The I Love U Guys Foundation seeks to raise money “to restore and protect the joy of youth through educational programs and positive actions in collaboration with families, schools, communities, and government entities.”
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