Monday, December 9, 2013
By JOHN CHRISTOFFERSEN The Associated Press
NEWTOWN, Conn. - A few nights after the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School, David Posey heard a strange noise in his house and went upstairs to check on his son. The little boy, who had just seen his teacher and a first-grade classmate gunned down, was pounding on the floor.
State police lead a line of children from the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn., after a shooting at the school last Dec. 14. Hundreds of schoolchildren survived, but the horrors have been especially difficult to overcome for some of the 6- and 7-year-olds who witnessed the bloodbath.
Shannon Hicks/Newtown Bee/2012 Associated Press file
"I know where the bad guy is," the child told his father, indicating down below, in hell. "I'm beating him up."
Hundreds of children at the school that day survived the shooting, but the horrors have been especially difficult to overcome for some of the 6- and 7-year-olds who witnessed the bloodbath. Among the survivors are a dozen first-graders from the two classrooms where the gunman opened fire with a semi-automatic rifle.
Nightmares are persistent, and any reminder of the attack -- a fire alarm, a clap of thunder, even the sound of an intercom -- can stir feelings of panic. At the building in a neighboring town where the survivors recently began a new school year, signs ask people to close doors softly and not to drag objects across the floor.
Their parents, grateful that their children are even alive, have struggled out of public view, another set of families left reeling from the attack. For all the hugs and assurances they are safe, the parents can no longer tell their children there are no such things as monsters.
"The worst part is the helplessness," said Hugo Rojas, whose son also witnessed the shooting. "You want to take that pain away. You want to be able to take those nightmares away, but you can't."
TRAUMA FROM FACE-TO-FACE WITH GUNMAN
The gunman, Adam Lanza, who killed 20 children and six educators at the school, shot his way into the building the morning of Dec. 14.
As the sound of gunfire and shells hitting the floor rang out from the hallway, the children in Victoria Soto's class were moved to the back of their room. They were sitting on the floor when Lanza burst through the door. No one spoke, not even Lanza. The gunman pointed his gun at the face of Posey's son, just inches away. But he didn't shoot him.
"He said he kind of just stared down the kids," Posey said. "My personal belief is that at that particular time he hadn't crossed the threshold of shooting a child."
Lanza shot the teacher. And a girl. As Lanza reloaded his gun, the other children ran past blood, shattered glass and the body of their principal, lying on the hallway floor.
After firing off 154 rifle shots within five minutes, Lanza killed himself with a handgun as police arrived. He also had killed his mother that morning before driving to the school.
Posey and Rojas described in interviews how any reminder of the attack would traumatize their sons. To protect their privacy, they asked that the boys' names not be published. Most of the families of the surviving witnesses have tried to shield their children's identities and struggles, and have declined to speak publicly.
Two months after the shooting, Posey and his family were in the grocery store when an announcement came over the intercom. His son insisted they leave immediately. Posey was baffled, but his son later explained the intercom was on when Lanza began his rampage inside Sandy Hook.
"'When the intercom goes off, that's when something bad is about to happen,'" he recalled his son telling him.
Posey also noticed changes in behavior. His once agreeable boy began to rebel, refusing to brush his teeth. He started wearing his Batman and Iron Man costumes again.
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