Red Lake: Remembering with sorrow, honor

RED LAKE, MINN. - One of the first things Rodney White did Tuesday morning was to visit his daughter, Alicia.

Or rather, he visited her grave.

"I just wanted to let her know that I was thinking about her today," he said. "Not a day goes by that I don't think about her. A part of me is gone and I can't get her back."

Alicia, 14, was one of 10 people who died March 21, 2005, on the Red Lake Indian Reservation. On Tuesday, the first anniversary of the second-deadliest school shooting in the nation, the mood was somber and subdued.

There was no official ceremony, but flags flew at half-staff, classes were canceled and tribal offices were closed. And across the northern Minnesota reservation of 6,000 people, loved ones held public memorials.

More than 70 people gathered to remember slain security guard Derrick Brun at St. Mary's Mission Catholic Church, which also had been the site of his funeral mass a year ago.

Many family members wore black T-shirts with gold lettering that said, "In Loving Memory of Derrick B. Brun, 9-28-76 to 3-21-05."

"Grant peace to Derrick," the Rev. Pat Sullivan prayed. "May he come to your presence and rejoice in your joy forever."

During the nearly two-hour service, 10 red candles burned on the altar, one for each of the dead.

Jeff Weise, the 16-year-old gunman, killed his grandfather and his grandfather's companion at their home before driving to the school, where he killed Brun, five students and English teacher Neva Rogers before taking his own life.

Brun and the other victims are missed very much, Brun's older sister, Victoria Brun, told attendees. She said that everyone is still coming to terms with the deaths.

"We had to accept it, and we are praying for those that were taken with him -- for the families that are in the same boat as we are," she said.

"None of that can be changed or done over," she said. "We have a responsibility to ourselves and to others that something like this doesn't happen again."

Up the road at the high school, dozens of people attended a luncheon to remember Neva Rogers.

Reporters were not allowed into the high school. Afterward, social studies teacher Sheila Horn said, "Everyone who came had the understanding that we don't need to cry or mourn, that we're here for each other and ... to honor Neva."

Horn said she was comforted to see so many current and former students. She said Rogers' daughter, Cindy Anderson, also appeared pleased with the outpouring of support.

Far to the south, Gov. Tim Pawlenty led a moment of silence at 2 p.m. in the State Capitol in St. Paul, and he urged people afterward to continue offering comfort to the people of Red Lake.

"It's a scar that's going to exist and a wound that's going to exist for a long time," Pawlenty said.

Surviving day to day

Meanwhile, nearly 300 people filled the Ponemah Center to honor another victim, Chanelle Rosebear.

There was drumming, and more than 10 tables overflowed with food. Chanelle's parents, Sandra Rosebear and Kevin Martin, stood off to the side, taking in the sight of all the people who cared about their daughter.

On Monday, Sandra Rosebear said she is still coming to grips that her daughter is gone.

Two weeks ago, she pulled out several photos of her daughter, which had been stored for traditional Ojibwe mourning.

"I look at them and I say, 'Why you?' " she said. "I don't think I will ever heal. I just want to get through today."

So did others.

Horn, who attended the mass for Brun but hadn't planned on speaking, said she needed to tell her story. She cried while she reminded his family of his heroism.

"I believe that I'm here today, as are a lot of children, because Derrick stood up and said, 'This isn't going to happen today. Not on my watch,' " Horn said.

Horn said the two gunshots that hit Brun near the school entrance were her warning to lock a library door.

As a result, the lives of 20 students were saved.

"I never got to say thank you for what your son did," Horn said.

"You just did," said Brun's mother, Barbara Brun, hugging her tightly.

Later, at a memorial dinner for Derrick Brun at the Red Lake Humanities Center, his father, Francis (Chunky) Brun, held his 4-month-old great-grandson, also named Derrick.

"The past couple of days have been hard," he said, "and I'm not ashamed to cry over my son being gone.

"I miss him, and I'll never get over it."

The Associated Press contributed to this report. Terry Collins • 612-673-1790