I was cooking dinner after working all day when the news reported that there was a shooting at UNC Charlotte, where my son was a student. The campus is only 20 minutes from our home, and as a freshman, Reed stayed on campus. His second year, he decided to commute. I called my husband and told him to go to the command station, grab Reed and come home. I texted Reed, and he did not respond. His phone eventually went straight to voicemail — not unusual for my 19 year old.
I watched the news and saw the shooter brag about how he shot people, still believing that Reed was fine. The news stated that families of deceased had been informed, and I sighed of relief that he was OK. I saw headlights come up the driveway, and I ran outside to wrap my firstborn in my arms. Instead I saw my husband, tears in his eyes, and then police officers come around the corner. Everything else is a blur.