Missy was paralyzed from the chest down, and starting at age 15, had to adjust to life in a wheelchair. The shooter, now a 39-year-old man, is on parole and many members of the community are on edge, grappling with the possibility of seeing him go free despite the grim and long-lasting mark the tragedy left on Paducah. While the shooter pleaded guilty and was sentenced to life in prison in 1998, Kentucky law requires parole consideration after 25 years for juveniles. His parole hearing is scheduled for Monday. CNN spoke with some of the Paducah school shooting victims and their family members ahead of the hearing. They thought about what still haunts them from that day and what they want others to know as their community still struggles with healing.
The scars that remain
On a tree-lined plot opposite the old Heath High stands a circular brick structure. Inside, a stone bearing the image of an angel lists the names of the students who died: Nicole Hadley, Jessica James and Case Steger. Behind him, smaller stones on the wall bear the names of those wounded in the shooting. The memorial is where Christina Hadley Ellegood goes after a hard day or when the grief of losing her 14-year-old sister Nicole overwhelms her. “This represents that our community has not forgotten my sister and the other girls who lost their lives and those who were injured,” Christina told CNN. The memorial, which is near what is now Heath Middle School, is also where the victims — now adults — can take their children to explain what happened that day, he said. “A lot of students had to grow up overnight. You didn’t feel safe going to school. Then you wondered where exactly do I feel safe?” Christina said. “I feel like any time we take away something simple like that, it’s going to drastically change a person.” When Christina, then 15, first heard rumblings about a gun on campus, she assumed someone had brought a paintball gun to school. She later found her sister on the ground with a gunshot wound to the head. Shock took over her body. “I remember thinking I should cry but I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t feel any emotion,” she said. Her sister had been shot in the lobby right after the student prayer circle said “Amen,” right in front of Missy, who later recalled thinking it must have been a joke as they went down like firecrackers. But then, while standing in front of Nicole waiting for her to get up, Missy was also shot. “All of a sudden, there was a buzzing in my ears and I started floating to the ground,” he said. “Even the impact of hitting the ground didn’t hurt.” Passing in and out of consciousness, Missy saw her chemistry teacher holding another girl as another teacher repeated, “She won’t make it.” “I had no idea I was watching Jessica die,” Missy said. Now, Missy is set to address the parole board on Monday as they consider whether to release the perpetrator, Michael Carneal. She hopes her wheelchair will serve as a reminder of the scars left behind by the shooting. “The fact that he was the one who made the decision about everyone’s future, but the only one who gets a chance at parole, it’s a little disappointing because everyone else has been sentenced to life without parole. I’ll never walk again. And the girls who were killed will never return,” he said. Carneal’s attorney, Alana Meyer, told CNN that Carneal has committed to taking medication during his incarceration and that if he is released, he plans to continue his treatment through therapy and medication management at a mental health facility close to home of his parents. another town hours away from Paducah. Carneal was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia while incarcerated at the Department of Juvenile Justice, according to his attorney. “Over the past 25 years, Michael has proven his ability to change, recover and mature. Michael has always felt deep remorse and has taken responsibility for the shooting. He is dedicated to improving himself and being a positive force with any way he can,” Meyer said in a statement. For Christina, the parole hearing can represent a life-changing moment for many in the community who may no longer feel safe if the offender is released. While some may believe the shooter has served enough time, he said, the vast majority he spoke to believe he should remain incarcerated. “I think it took the lives of three girls who did nothing wrong and don’t get a second chance at life,” he said. “Well why should I?” Kelly Alsip was also shot that day and still bears a bullet wound scar on her left shoulder as she prepares to address the parole board. Kelly recalled her daughter crying when she saw a letter in the mail about her upcoming parole hearing, immediately fearing for her mother. “I get choked up thinking about it because it’s not just affecting me,” Kelly said. For those who were there the day of the shooting, they still vividly remember what happened: the anxious parents who ran to the school to find their children, the students who lined up at pay phones to call them, and what they did before the shooting started. . Kelly was holding hands with her best friend, Kayce Steger, in the prayer circle just before the shots rang out. Case was killed. “I was the last person who ever talked to her,” Kelly said.
Lessons learned and long roads to healing
Missy was shot by someone she knew, a boy who was in the band with her. Someone he considered the “class clown,” who he never imagined would shoot up at school. But now he knows the signs were there. “I would like to think that if he had asked me for help or said something to me, I would have helped him,” she said. Carneal had brought a gun to school before, and had also warned that “something big” was going to happen at prayer circle that morning, Missy said she later learned. He had also seen himself bullied, and bullied others, before the shooting — at a time when people didn’t talk about bullying. Missy is now an author and public speaker who has devoted much of her life to addressing at-risk youth and speaking out about bullying prevention — a role she took on to help stop another act of violence. “I was hoping that if there was ever a kid out there like the shooter at my school, if that person needed someone to talk to, an adult they could trust, that was my reason for getting involved,” Missy said. Missy thinks Carneal should “face the consequences of his actions,” but she’s no longer holding any grudges. “The second chance I was given, I didn’t want to live so angry,” she said. “I knew that anger wouldn’t make me walk again. It wouldn’t make the girls come back that died and it wouldn’t change what happened that morning.” Christina and her brother, Andrew Hadley, also faced a long journey as they dealt with the grief of losing their sister at such a young age. Andrew was 12 and at home when Nicole was killed, and recalls how “everyone was staring at me” when he was later told to go to the office. He saw blood on the school floor and someone being taken away on a stretcher, with police on the scene. Then he saw his mother and sister crying. The trauma from that day stayed with him, turning into anxiety and depression as he struggled to come to grips with the reality that his sister was gone, he said. What helped him heal was the birth of his daughter, whose middle name is Nicole. “I feel like I have like a new mission in life and purpose in life,” he said. For shooting survivors, hearing about more recent school shootings can also be difficult. There have been 40 K-12 school shootings so far this year alone. “I know the pain they feel,” Christina said. “And a lot of times there’s nothing I can do to take it away or help them deal with it.” She had to learn that it was okay for her to limit her news coverage of other shootings. But she takes comfort in the bond she now has with other survivors of the Paducah shooting. “We know that we’re going to stop everything we’re doing to support that person because we understand them in a way that no one else does.” And when another school shooting happened in Kentucky nearly five years ago, just 30 miles from Heath High, Christina said she sprung into action. A 15-year-old boy opened fire at Marshall County High School in 2018, killing two students and injuring 16 people. Christina reached out to those affected by the shootings to offer advice and help the community heal, having gone through her own painful healing process after losing her sister in a school shooting. She had struggled to bury the pain and replay what happened in her head for years. Talking and writing through her feelings has helped her ever since, she learned. “I wanted to share what I went through to help them,” he said. “I tried to give them some tips on things I did that maybe I wish I hadn’t done or just tips on things I learned along the way.”
