‘People want to help’: Canadians rally round Tumbler Ridge after school shooting | Tumbler Ridge school shooting

WWhen Jim Caruso heard about the school shooting in Tumbler Ridge, he immediately knew he had to be there. She packed her bags and boarded a plane to the community 700 miles away. “I wanted to be here to provide some comfort,” he said. “I wanted to hug people, pray for them, and most importantly, cry with them.”

On Tuesday, an attacker opened fire at the town’s middle school, killing eight people, most of them young children. It was one of the deadliest attacks in Canadian history and shook the country.

A wave of support has emerged for the British Columbia town from across Canada through civic resources, grief and trauma counselors, therapy animals, food and donations. Hotels are fully booked, pushing newcomers to towns more than an hour’s drive away.

Caruso, who retired four years ago, previously worked as a paramedic, chaplain and police chaplain; He has a career at the intersection of grief, tragedy and compassion, he said, and that makes him well-suited for this moment.

“It’s tough, but I’m ready for it. I’ve spent my life with first responders. I know the police, the firefighters, the paramedics, too; they’re just devastated. Destroyed,” he said. “But so are the people at Tumbler Ridge. And how they’re cared for right now is very important.”

On Friday, police said the shooter was “being hunted, for lack of a better term.” They were armed with two guns and were “prepared and engaged in combat with anyone they could come into contact with”.

Investigators identified the suspect as Jesse Van Rootselaar. Police said Van Rootselaar was born biologically male, began to transform into a woman and identified as a woman.

Premier Mark Carney, who traveled to Tumbler Ridge with other federal party leaders for a show of national unity, praised the heroism of first responders and the bravery of students and teachers trapped in the school as the shooter stalked the corridors.

“As we stand together here at home, we wanted you to hear that Canadians are with you and we will always be here for you,” Carney said. “Whatever amount of your grief Canadians can bear to lighten your heavy burden, we will be happy to do so.”

Caruso said the horrific details of the attack will add a layer to how counselors and support workers help victims and the broader community navigate the unpredictable and turbulent nature of grief.

“There was no car accident. It’s not a fatal disease. It was a murder. Someone did it in cold blood. And as a result, something innocent was stolen,” he said. “I’ve learned over the years that life will go on, but it will also take a piece of you.”

Caruso and his wife plan to spend the coming months in the town to help residents regroup emotionally. “It’s hard not to wonder if I had been here before, if we had come here to bring compassion,” he said. “But there is hope. It may not feel like it for the parents who lost their children or the victims who died. But there is hope for those left. That’s what funerals are about. Not for the person who died. For the people around you.”

Speaking at the memorial service, Carney said Tumbler Ridge was defined by people who cared about each other. “You held each other — the way you’re holding each other right now. That’s grace. It’s what we do for each other; it’s what we receive from each other,” he said. “Open hearts when the world falls apart.”

The fact that the tragedy occurred in a community of fewer than 2,500 people means that first responders knew the victims and not a single person was affected by the loss. When residents of Tumbler Ridge suffer in a part of the state known as the Peace region, the pain is felt deeply nearby.

“I just wanted to be part of the solution and do what I could to help people,” said Milo MacDonald, city manager of nearby Fort St. John, who recently came to Tumbler Ridge with colleagues. “There are so many people who want to help right now. They want to alleviate the suffering.”

Neighboring communities are sending large-scale resources and making small gestures that have a big impact. MacDonald said lifeguards and skating technicians were dispatched from his community to ensure places like public swimming pools and ice rinks could remain open to children.

MacDonald, who worked as a police officer for 25 years, including relief duties in Tumbler Ridge, said he was devastated by the horrors inflicted on a “genuinely good” group of people.

“I’ve experienced tragedies as a police officer, but I’ve never encountered anything this big,” he said. “And I have to admit that it’s incredibly difficult because my sons are the same age. My hope is that these things keep us focused on our humanity and our common ground. In moments like these, you need validation of humanity.”

Even though hordes of people from outside society have overwhelmed the town’s infrastructure, their presence is still welcomed by the locals.

Lynn Way, 82, who has lived in the town for more than three decades, said: “When I lost my son recently, I wanted to shut out the world. I just wanted to die. He didn’t want the service, but I came together and people came from all over. Even people I didn’t know. I knew then how much my son was loved. They wanted to come and let me know. That’s what’s happening in this town now.”

Way said there was a “heaviness” in the air when he walked out, but Tumbler Ridge was still a safe town. “You can still leave your door open. That hasn’t changed. This town will get through this, but it’s going to take longer for the poor people who lost their children and loved ones. It’s a fact of life. All we can do is say: ‘Hey, if you need anything, I’m here for you.'”

Recently, a logo featuring mountain peaks and a red heart has emerged that reads Tumbler Ridge Strong, indicating the collective resilience needed in the town and the trust that it exists within every resident.

“What feels so hard right now is that none of this is real,” Way said. “It won’t be real until the first funeral. Then you see the pain you never thought possible. When you lose someone close to you, it takes a year before you can truly live with them. And you do. But you never forget. Never.”