The Silence Was Not Accidental

They said it was random. It wasn’t.

This dispatch is not a plea. It is a scream.

It is the sound before the sirens. The breath before the bullet.

It is the hallway echo. The blood trail. The silence they called resilience.

“I’ll never see my son again. He was seven. He liked dinosaurs.”
— parent, Uvalde, TX · May 24, 2022
“She was my best friend. I still text her. I know she won’t answer.”
— friend, age 14 · Nashville, TN · Mar 27, 2023
“He was my baby. He had a loose tooth. I never got to see it fall out.”
— parent, Perry, IA · Jan 4, 2024
“I held her hand in the ambulance. She didn’t make it. I still feel her fingers.”
— friend, age 16 · Albuquerque, NM · Feb 6, 2025
“They told us to stay quiet. I still hear the hallway.”
— survivor, age 15 · Uvalde, TX · May 24, 2022
“It wasn’t the sirens. It was the silence after.”
— survivor, age 17 · Santa Fe, TX · May 18, 2018
“I counted the seconds between the shots. I still count.”
— survivor, age 19 · Virginia Tech · Apr 16, 2007
“They archived the incident. We archived the breath.”
— anonymous dispatch · encrypted location
“I was hiding under a desk. I could hear him reload.”
— survivor, age 14 · Parkland, FL · Feb 14, 2018
“I was texting my mom under the desk. I didn’t know if it would be the last thing I sent.”
— survivor, age 13 · Nashville, TN · Mar 27, 2023
“They said it was a domestic dispute. I saw my teacher fall.”
— survivor, age 10 · Des Moines, IA · Jan 23, 2023
“We practiced lockdown drills every month. But no one practiced grief.”
— survivor, age 17 · Denver, CO · Apr 14, 2023
“I saw him walk past my classroom. I stopped breathing.”
— survivor, age 16 · Richmond, VA · Oct 3, 2024
“They said it was isolated. But I still flinch when I hear the fire alarm.”
— survivor, age 15 · Albuquerque, NM · Feb 6, 2025
“I don’t remember the shooter’s face. I remember my friend’s blood.”
— survivor, age 14 · Kenosha, WI · Aug 19, 2025
“I saw the bullet holes in the lockers. I still walk with my head down.”
— survivor, age 13 · Oxford, MI · Nov 30, 2021
“They said it was over. But I still sleep with the light on.”
— survivor, age 12 · Perry, IA · Jan 4, 2024
“I heard the first shot and ran. My best friend didn’t.”
— survivor, age 16 · Arlington, TX · Oct 6, 2023
“They locked the doors. We hid in the art room. I still smell the paint.”
— survivor, age 14 · Seattle, WA · May 2, 2025
“I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just stopped feeling.”
— survivor, age 15 · Atlanta, GA · Mar 18, 2024
“They said it was a drill. I saw my teacher bleeding.”
— survivor, age 11 · Chicago, IL · Sep 12, 2025
“I ran past bodies. I didn’t look down.”
— survivor, age 16 · Sacramento, CA · Jun 21, 2024
“I watched my teacher try to shield us. She didn’t make it.”
— survivor, age 16 · Wichita, KS · Oct 15, 2024
“They said it was a tragedy. I say it was a pattern.”
— survivor, age 17 · Anchorage, AK · Mar 2, 2023
“I still hear the fire alarm. I still run.”
— survivor, age 14 · St. Louis, MO · Jul 5, 2025
“They said we were resilient. I say we were abandoned.”
— survivor, age 15 · Jacksonville, FL · May 20, 2024
“I saw my friend’s body twitch. I didn’t know if she was still alive.”
— survivor, age 14 · El Paso, TX · May 13, 2024
“I stepped in blood trying to get out. I didn’t stop running.”
— survivor, age 16 · Kansas City, MO · Feb 8, 2025
“They said it was over. But I still hear the gurgling.”
— survivor, age 15 · Miami, FL · Jun 12, 2023
“I watched him shoot my classmate in the face. I still see it when I blink.”
— survivor, age 17 · Philadelphia, PA · Oct 26, 2024
“I was covered in someone else’s blood. I didn’t know whose.”
— survivor, age 13 · Milwaukee, WI · Jan 17, 2025
“They said we were lucky. I saw my teacher’s body dragged out.”
— survivor, age 16 · Baltimore, MD · Apr 4, 2023
“I heard the crying. I couldn’t move. I just listened.”
— survivor, age 12 · San Jose, CA · Jul 29, 2025
“They said it was a tragedy. I say it was a massacre.”
— survivor, age 17 · Boston, MA · Mar 14, 2024
“I saw the shooter smile. That’s what haunts me.”
— survivor, age 15 · Denver, CO · Sep 6, 2023
“They said it was preventable. So why didn’t they?”
— survivor, age 16 · New Orleans, LA · May 1, 2025
“I saw her gasp. I thought she was choking. She was dying.”
— survivor, age 14 · Little Rock, AR · Feb 10, 2025
“They said it was a tragedy. I say it was a slaughter.”
— survivor, age 17 · Columbus, OH · May 6, 2024
“I watched him shoot my friend in the back. She was running.”
— survivor, age 15 · Mesa, AZ · Jul 18, 2023
“They said we were brave. I say we were bait.”
— survivor, age 16 · Fort Worth, TX · Mar 27, 2025
“I saw the blood pool under her desk. I didn’t move.”
— survivor, age 13 · Reno, NV · Oct 30, 2024
“They said it was isolated. I say it was rehearsed.”
— survivor, age 17 · Tulsa, OK · Jan 9, 2023
“I saw the shooter reload. I counted the bullets.”
— survivor, age 15 · Bakersfield, CA · Apr 22, 2025

We do not forgive. We do not forget. We do not flinch.

This archive holds what they refused to name.

This is not closure. This is memory. This is resistance.

The silence was not accidental. And neither is this dispatch.

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