Randy Scroggins sat down on his porch as
dusk fell Saturday, his eyes red with emotion and exhaustion. He had a
story to tell. It was time to tell it.
Scroggins' story was about
his 18-year-old daughter, Lacey, and about the boy he believes saved her
life on Thursday when a gunman strode into her classroom at Umpqua
Community College, killing her teacher and eight of her schoolmates
before fatally shooting himself.
It was one of the worst tragedies in Oregon's history. Lacey Scroggins lived. The boy didn't.
Randy Scroggins is still trying to make sense of it, if he can.
“Here's
what I do know: I know that I'm grateful,” said Scroggins, 56, a local
pastor, his voice wavering as he spoke Saturday evening. “My daughter's
alive. And I'm grateful my daughter's alive. And I am deeply, deeply
sorry that others are not. ... And I am grateful for the young man that I
still believe is the reason that my daughter is alive.”
Lacey
Scroggins' day Thursday began with a driving lesson with her father.
She had just bought a stick shift but didn't quite know how to drive it
without making it shudder and jerk. She called it off at 9:20 a.m.,
saying she had to get to class.
Lacey is studying nursing at Umqua
Community College -- she wants to be a surgeon, according to her father
-- but her first class that day was expository writing, taught by
Lawrence Levine.
Lacey Scroggins later told her father she
remembered looking up at the clock in class to see what time it was --
10:27 a.m. -- and a few minutes later, one of her classmates, Chris Harper-Mercer, 26, walked in.
Almost everyone who said they'd met Harper-Mercer during his time
in Roseburg and earlier in Southern California recalled him as being
quiet and even a little awkward. Lacey Scroggins, however, told her
father that Harper-Mercer had been quite talkative and inquisitive
during class earlier in the week.
“Daddy, he was talking, he was
verbal, he was not mean, he was not aggressive,” she told her father.
“He was just asking questions about the class.”
But this time as
Harper-Mercer strode into the classroom there was a gunshot. Lacey saw
broken glass. Harper-Mercer, armed with a pistol, shot two or three
times at the ceiling and told everyone to get down.
“At that point
in time, she actually thought it was a drill,” Scroggins said. “And
then she looked up, and she said that 'I couldn't see the teacher
anymore.'“
Lacey looked to her left and saw Harper-Mercer shoot
someone. “'And his body dropped to the ground, and I realized this is
not a drill any longer,'“ Scroggins recalled his daughter saying.
She
lay on the floor with her arms in front of her and heard the shooter
say: “You, in the orange shirt. Stand up. What religion are you? Are you
a Christian?”
When the student answered, Lacy told her father, “I
heard, Daddy, I heard a pop, and then the thud of a body that just hit
the ground.” The gunman asked the same question of another student and
shot them, too, she said.
Then he told someone to stand up and come over to him.
“You're
the lucky one,” the shooter said, as Lacey related it to her father. “I
want you to give this bag to whoever needs it. I've got a flash drive
in it, and the rest of us, we will all be together in just a moment.”
At
that point, Harper-Mercer told another student that if she begged for
her life, he would spare her. But when the woman began to beg, she said,
“Daddy, he shot her anyway. And then he told all of us to get to the
center of the room, so we all crawled as quickly as we could to the
center of the room. And then he walked over, Daddy, and he began to
shoot.”
One of the students on the floor next to Lacey was Treven Anspach, 20, a former classmate of hers at Sutherlin High School.
She
heard a massive bang next to her ear. Anspach had been shot. He then
fell or rolled onto Lacey, weighing her down. His blood spilled over her
and onto the floor next to her arm.
“And then I heard him,” Lacey
told her father, referring to the gunman. “He stood over me and yelled,
'Get up! Get up!' But because of the weight of Treven's body on me, I
felt frozen to the ground. And then he looked at the girl next to me who
he had already shot, but she was still alive. And he said to her, 'Is
she still alive?'“
This time, he was talking about Lacey, who
stayed quiet. “'And the lady said, 'I don't know,' and then he said,
'She must already be dead.'“
“He walked over my daughter and shot the next one,” Scroggins said.
Lacey
told her father that at one point she could hear a woman tell the
gunman, “I'm sorry that you are going through this -- I'm sorry that
somebody has hurt you.”
“I bet you are, but it's not good enough,” Lacey remembered the gunman replying, and then, she said, he shot the woman.
At some point during the mayhem, Chris Mintz,
a 30-year-old Iraq war veteran who was in a nearby classroom, came to
see what was wrong, and Harper-Mercer shot him multiple times. Sometime
later, Lacey heard a heavy burst of gunfire and realized the police had
arrived.
“Then Lacey said that she heard the shooter say, 'I'm done, you got me, I'm finished,'“ Scroggins said.
Investigators believe Harper-Mercer then killed himself.
What happened next is something Scroggins wants everyone to remember about his daughter.
When
she realized it was safe to get up, he said, Lacey pulled a scarf off
her neck and used it as a tourniquet on a victim, She did the same for
another classmate; she remembered urging them to use a finger to plug a
bullet hole.
The police soon cleared her out of the room, questioned her, and she called her parents, who were at home.
“I
heard my wife as she began to say, 'Randy' -- she came out of the room,
and Lacey was on the phone,” Scroggins said. “She was wailing, crying. I
heard the words, 'Somebody has been shot.'“
When Scroggins picked up his daughter that day, she was still covered in Anspach's blood.
“We all believe with the last piece of effort that [Treven] had, that he moved on top of her on purpose,” Scroggins said
As he neared the end of the story, sitting on his porch as darkness settled, Scroggins' voice was breaking.
“We know beyond a shadow of any doubt that his blood on my daughter
convinced the shooter that she was dead," he said. “That young man,
whose name is Treven Anspach … saved our daughter's life.”
Scroggins tried to call Anspach's parents, and finally reached his mother on Saturday. The call was emotional.
“It
appeared to me that although she could not understand why, as no parent
could, she was grateful to know that her son was a hero in many, many
people's eyes. And ... Treven will always be our hero,” Scroggins said.
He asked Anspach's mother what he could do in return.
“Her
response was so simple: 'Make sure that you hug your daughter every day
of her life,'“ Scroggins said. “A request that we will gladly do.”