No Easy Answers

by Merritt, Rob, Brown, Brooks

  One of the officers spoke with Judy in the hallway while Randy went into the screening room. The officer warned her that the tapes were “extremely disturbing,” but he recognized her right to see them.

  The officer called detective Kate Battan over to meet Judy. “She was so friendly, and said hello,” Judy recalls. “Then the officer said, ‘This is Judy Brown.’ Kate just threw her hands in the air and walked away. The officer said, ‘Well, I don't know what that was about.’ She clearly didn't want to talk to me.”

  Judy rejoined her husband inside the screening room just as the first tape was beginning. What she saw, she says, horrified her.

  Eric and Dylan's basement tapes have never been released for viewing by the general public—at least, as of the writing of this book. However, I've been able to learn a lot about them from what my parents remember seeing, as well as by reading the police summary of their contents (contained in a report released by the sheriff's office in November, 2000). This is what I have been able to put together.

  On the first tape, Eric and Dylan are seated in the basement of Eric's house, with Eric holding a shotgun he calls “Arlene,” named after a character in Doom. Eric is wearing a Rammstein T-shirt with “Wilder Wein”—German for “Wild Wine”—written on it. He and Dylan are drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels as they speak.

  At first they talk about weapons. “Thanks to Mark John Doe and Philip John Doe,” they say, referring to Mark Manes and Philip Duran, who provided them with their TEC-9. “We used them; they had no clue. If it hadn't been them, it would have been someone else over twenty-one.”

  Eric tells how close he came to being caught when the Green Mountain Guns store called his house. His father answered, and the clerk said, “Your clips are in.” His father replied that he hadn't ordered any clips and left the matter there. Eric laughs as he recounts the story. He also mentions the time when his parents found a pipe bomb but never searched for others. He recalls the time he walked past his mother when his shotgun was “in my terrorist bag sticking out.” She thought it was his pellet gun, he says.

  The two are still angry about their arrest for the van break-in over a year before. “Fuck you, Walsh,” Dylan says, a reference to the officer who caught them.

  Eric and Dylan get up to take a tour of Eric's bedroom, “to see all the illegal shit.” Eric shows off his stash of weapons; “Thanks to the gun show, and to Robyn,” he says. “Robyn is very cool.”

  Eric then shows off how he's managed to keep his weapons hidden. My mom specifically remembers Eric pulling out a desk drawer filled with clocks of different sizes and shapes, along with batteries and solar igniters, which Eric planned to use for the propane bombs. Eric has pipe bombs hidden behind his CD collection; inside a “Demon Knight” CD is his receipt from Green Mountain Guns for nine ammunition magazines. However, he also has “fifty feet of cannon fuse” hanging on the wall in plain sight.

  Eric holds up some of his gear in front of the camera. “What you will find on my body in April,” he says.

  The two appear in a second video dated March 18, once again seated in the basement. Writers Karen Abbott and Dan Luzadder of the Denver Rocky Mountain News viewed the tapes during the media screening and offered the following observation in their December 13, 1999 story, “War Is War”:

  They explain over and over why they want to kill as many people as they can. Kids taunted them in elementary school, in middle school, in high school. Adults wouldn't let them strike back, to fight their tormenters, the way such disputes once were settled in schoolyards. So they gritted their teeth. And their rage grew. “It's humanity,” Klebold says, flipping an obscene gesture toward the camera. “Look at what you made,” he tells the world. “You're fucking shit, you humans, and you deserve to die.”. . . They speak at length about all the people who wronged them. “You've given us shit for years,” Klebold says. “You're fucking going to pay for all the shit. We don't give a shit because we're going to die doing it.” (“War Is War,” Rocky Mountain News, 12/13/99)

  Dylan asks Eric if he thinks the cops will listen to the entire video. Eric replies that he believes the cops will chop the video up into little pieces, “and the police will just show the public what they want it to look like.” They suggest delivering the videos to TV stations right before the attack. After all, they want people to know that they feel they have their reasons.

  “We are but aren't psycho,” they say.

  On another tape, at Dylan's house, Eric videotapes Dylan trying on his weapons. Dylan is wearing a black T-shirt with “Wrath” written on it—the same shirt he would wear on the day of the attack.

  Dylan promises his parents that there was nothing they could have done to stop him. According to the Rocky Mountain News article “War Is War,” “You can't understand what we feel,” he says. “You can't understand, no matter how much you think you can.”

  The Rocky Mountain News quoted Eric as offering praise for his parents. “My parents are the best fucking parents I have ever known,” he says. “My dad is great. I wish I was a fucking sociopath so I don't have any remorse, but I do. This is going to tear them apart. They will never forget it.”

  According to police reports, Eric expresses regret on another tape as well. He recorded one segment while driving alone in his car. “It's a weird feeling, knowing you're going to be dead in two and a half weeks,” he says to the camera. He talks about the co-workers he will miss, and says he wishes he could have revisited Michigan and “old friends.” The officer who viewed this tape wrote that “at this point he becomes silent and appears to start crying, wiping a tear from the side of his face. . . . [H]e reaches toward the camera and shuts it off.”

  Their final tape is less than two minutes long. Eric, behind the camera, tells Dylan to “say it now.”

  “Hey, Mom. Gotta go,” Dylan says to the camera. “It's about half an hour before our little judgment day. I just wanted to apologize to you guys for any crap this might instigate as far as (inaudible) or something. Just know that I'm going to a better place than here. I didn't like life too much and I know I'll be happier wherever the fuck I go. So I'm gone.”

  My parents have only seen the tape once. The police refuse to release it to the public, citing fears of copycats. However, it is clear simply from the tapes' excerpts that much could be learned from them about Eric and Dylan's true motives.

  What angers me about the videotapes is that none of Eric and Dylan's friends have ever been allowed to see them. Think about it. You have three hours of video, recorded by two teenagers full of rage about our school. They reference song lyrics. They reference things at Columbine. Who is going to understand those references? Other kids.

  But at this time—three years after the shootings—the only people who have seen the videotapes are detectives, reporters, and the families of the victims. These adults won't catch the references that Eric and Dylan's friends and classmates will.

  I believe the tapes can help us understand what happened and should be released to the public. However, if the judge isn't willing to do that, the police should at least put together a group of high school students, as well as some of Eric and Dylan's friends, and have them watch the tapes. It amazes me that investigators have not done this, because who knows what clues are flying right over their heads?

  The police don't think people need to know anything more about Eric and Dylan's motives. But I want a chance to learn from those tapes for myself.

  It remains to be seen whether any of us will have that chance.

  Shortly after the TIME article about the videotapes was released, a small item appeared in the media. Undersheriff John Dunaway formally announced that I had nothing to do with the attack on Columbine.

  “There is no evidence suggesting Brooks Brown was in any way involved in these murders,” Dunaway said on December 21.

  Nonetheless, the damage had already been done, and my family would never forget. And before long, we would be given the chance to fight back.
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  18

  anniversary

  TO THIS DAY, THE HARRIS AND KLEBOLD FAMILIES HAVE REFUSED TO grant any media interviews. They have also never met with the families of the victims. However, the week before the one-year anniversary of the Columbine attack, both families issued statements to the media.

  The Harris family wrote:

  We continue to be profoundly saddened by the suffering of so many that has resulted from the acts of our son. We loved our son dearly, and search our souls daily for some glimmer of a reason why he would have done such a horrible thing. What he did was unforgivable and beyond our capacity to understand. The passage of time has yet to lessen the pain.

  We are thankful to those who have kept us in their thoughts and prayers.

  —Wayne and Kathy Harris

  The Klebolds offered their own statement of sympathy:

  Nearly a year has passed since tragedy changed the Columbine community forever. A day that began innocently ended catastrophically. The healing process has moved slowly as we all attempt to cope, not only with our own despair, but also with the distractions and intrusions that result from world attention.

  There are no words that convey how sorry we are for the pain that has been brought upon the community as a result of our son's actions. The pain of others compounds our own as we struggle to live a life without the son we cherished. In the reality of the Columbine tragedy and its aftermath, we look with the rest of the world to understand how such a thing could happen.

  We are convinced that the only way to truly honor all of the victims of this and other related tragedies is to move clearly and methodically toward an understanding of why they occur, so that we may try to prevent this kind of madness from ever happening again. It is our intention to work for this end, believing that answers are probably within reach, but that they will not be simple. We envision a time when circumstances will allow us to join with those who share our desire to understand. In the meantime, we again express our profound condolences to those whose lives have been so tragically altered. We look forward to a day when all of our pain is replaced by peace and acceptance.

  Finally, we wish to thank those who have sent their kind thoughts, prayers and expressions of support to our family. We are constantly surprised and heartened by the gestures of understanding and compassion that have been extended to us. The support has been both humbling and inspiring, and we are truly indebted to those who have offered it.

  —The Klebold family

  I haven't seen the Harrises since the day Eric threw a piece of ice into my windshield. I know nothing about what their life has been like since April 20. However, my family did keep in touch with the Klebolds.

  I visited Dylan's parents at their home one day, about a year after the murders. Mrs. Klebold made strawberry shortcake, and we sat down in their living room and caught up. We avoided the subject of Columbine for a long time; we talked about their house, where I was going with my life, how my parents were doing. They were trying so hard to be normal. But the conversation eventually turned toward Dylan.

  It was awkward; I didn't know what to say. I could talk to them about what was happening with the police, or what it was like at the school, or what I was doing. But it was hard to talk about Dylan.

  When I left, it was for the last time. I've never been back.

  My mother has attempted to maintain her friendship with Mrs. Klebold as best she can. However, it's hard for them to talk without the subject of Dylan coming up, and that causes Mrs. Klebold a lot of pain. The Klebolds go day-to-day, because with Columbine, you never know if something new is going to be in the paper tomorrow—something that will bring it all back again.

  Reminders of Columbine never stopped coming. In fact, new tragedies continued to compound our community's suffering.

  Six months after the murders, the mother of one of Columbine's injured students committed suicide. Carla Hochhalter walked into a Littleton pawnshop, asked to see a gun, and agreed to purchase it. As the clerk turned his back to gather the necessary paperwork, Hochhalter loaded the gun and shot herself.

  Her daughter, Anne-Marie Hochhalter, had been wounded in Columbine's parking lot. Carla Hochhalter had already been suffering from depression for several years; her illness worsened after her daughter was injured, and she was hospitalized several months before her death. Some consider her to be one more of Eric and Dylan's victims.

  In February, two Columbine students were gunned down at a Subway restaurant just a few blocks south of the school. Nicholas Kunselman was an employee at Subway and had just closed the store for the night. His girlfriend, Stephanie Hart, was there with him. Sometime between 10 p.m. and 1 a.m., both were shot and killed. No money was taken from the store, and there was no clear motive. To this day, the police have made no arrests in the case.

  Only a few weeks after the one-year anniversary, Columbine basketball player Greg Barnes committed suicide. Barnes was in the choir room when Eric and Dylan went on their rampage. I never knew Greg, but from what people have told me, the memories of that day were too much for him to deal with.

  Of course, seeing things like that happen worsened the pain everyone was feeling. A year after the murders, I was still struggling with what had happened that day. No matter how much I analyzed it, I still didn't understand why my friends had done what they'd done. I still had nightmares about the shootings. I still asked myself if there was something I could have done.

  There was no peace to be found. No easy answers. No closure.

  On April 20,2000, Colorado Governor BiH Owens called for a moment of silence to remember the shootings at Columbine. “Today is about the angels who are watching over us, helping us to heal and helping us to remember,” he said outside the state Capitol in downtown Denver.

  At a private tribute to students and teachers, Principal Frank DeAngelis read the words of President Clinton to an audience of over a thousand in the Columbine gymnasium.

  “What happened in Littleton pierced the soul of America,” Clinton wrote, according to the Rocky Mountain News. “Though a year has passed, time has not dimmed our memory or softened our grief at the loss of so many whose lives were cut off in the promise of youth.”

  As they had done a year before, media trucks gathered in Clement Park to record these events. Many were preparing stories of healing and closure.

  Away from it all, Brooks stood alone, smoking a cigarette and remembering.

  Contrary to what some in the community were saying, the one-year anniversary had nothing to do with closure—at least, not for those closest to the tragedy. That week, the families of fifteen people killed or wounded at Columbine filed suit against the Jefferson County Sheriff's Department.

  The Sanders family sued because Mr. Sanders had been left to die in the school, even though the police knew for hours where he was. The police didn't reach Sanders until 2:42 p.m. From there, they made the students who were caring for him evacuate. Yet, even after they had reached the room, it took over half an hour for paramedics to be brought in. By that point, it had been nearly four hours since Sanders had been shot. He bled to death.

  Other lawsuits used the Web pages my family had turned over to argue that the police could have stopped the massacre from happening, but didn't.

  Sheriff Stone called the lawsuits “ridiculous.”

  “We didn't do anything wrong,” he told the Rocky Mountain News. “We have people who did some pretty heroic things that are now getting kicked in the face for rescuing people, for saving people's lives. Because of greed.”

  Heroic? How? Who had they actually saved? The police stood outside and did nothing during the entire massacre. Not one officer attempted to engage Eric and Dylan after entering the school. Mr. Sanders was alive for three hours before officers even reached him. Lives could have been saved if the police had gone in, but they didn't. Stone was trying to portray his police force as a noble organization that had done everything it could. However, the events of the next month would sho
w just what kind of police force we were really dealing with.

  A month after the first anniversary, the Jefferson County Sheriff's Office released its official report on the Columbine killings. The bulk of the report was a timeline showing the events of April 20.

  This was how the police described my last conversation with Eric:

  “Harris speaks to one student briefly outside the west entrance of the school. According to the student, Harris tells him to leave the school because he likes him. Shortly thereafter, the same student is seen by witnesses walking south on Pierce Street away from the area. This student is the only person Harris and Klebold direct away from the school grounds moments before the killing begins.”

  This description was incorrect. I never spoke to Eric outside the west entrance. I spoke to him in the parking lot near the east entrance—on the opposite side of the school. On paper, it seems like a small mistake. Yet Eric and Dylan reportedly started their shooting at the west entrance. Saying that I met Eric there implies that I saw guns, ran away without warning anyone—and ran to the other side of the school in order to be moving south on Pierce later.

  Was it a mistake? If so, I can't help questioning the accuracy of the rest of the police report. On the other hand, perhaps it was intentional. After all, putting me at the west entrance certainly makes me look suspicious to anyone who reads the report.

  The police made brief mention of Eric's Web pages in the report, but played them down. “The information was reviewed by Sheriff's investigators,” the report reads. “However, Harris's Web site could not be accessed nor could reports of pipe bomb detonations be substantiated. Because of Brown's request to remain anonymous, Klebold and Harris were not contacted. Further investigation was initiated but no additional information was developed.”