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More than 1,000 people attended Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul for a vigil in Lewiston, Maine on October 29, 2023, where days earlier a gunman fatally shot 18 people. Some put their heads in their hands as the names of the people who died in Wedn

More than 1,000 people attended Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul for a vigil in Lewiston, Maine on October 29, 2023, where days earlier a gunman fatally shot 18 people. Some put their heads in their hands as the names of the people who died in Wednesday’s shooting were read. Others quietly wept.Hundreds more watched a livestream of the vigil shown on a huge screen in front of the church. Some held American flags and others had lit candles in cups marked with the names of the dead and injured. “Remember to seek healing over relief. Relief is temporary. Healing is permanent. Pain is temporary,” the Rev. Gary Bragg of the Southern Baptist Church in Lewiston said.

Adaline Tremblay, 7, comforts her father Keith Tremblay while sitting next him in their Lewiston living room on Thanksgiving day, 2023. Tremblay was playing corn hole at Schemengees Bar and Grill the night of Lewiston’s fatal mass shootings, which c

Adaline Tremblay, 7, comforts her father Keith Tremblay while sitting next him in their Lewiston living room on Thanksgiving day, 2023. Tremblay was playing corn hole at Schemengees Bar and Grill the night of Lewiston’s fatal mass shootings, which claimed the lives of some of his friends and critically injured many others. Tremblay escaped unscathed, but now grapples with the pain and grief in the aftermath of the shooting.

Kathy Lebel, owner of Schemengees Bar and Grill, sits in the booth of her restaurant on Nov. 27, 2023 where she normally dines with her family when they visit the bar. A gaping hole in the wall is seen to her left, where a bullet ripped through the

Kathy Lebel, owner of Schemengees Bar and Grill, sits in the booth of her restaurant on Nov. 27, 2023 where she normally dines with her family when they visit the bar. A gaping hole in the wall is seen to her left, where a bullet ripped through the bar when a mass shooter took the life of her bar manager and many of her friends. Schemengees, she says, should not be where you come to die. “This is supposed to be a happy place, a fun place. I mean, come on, my water broke here,” she says with a shrug. “We can clean that up. A spilt beer? That’s OK. I’d always thought there was no mess big enough we couldn’t clean it up … .” But with her friends the shooting has left her reeling. “Where’s the book on this, where’s the manual? Who can tell me?” she asks. “How do you go from a broken heart, something you love, your passion that was destroyed – how do you bring that back?”

Community members arrive to Faith Baptist Church for their first Sunday service following the mass shooting that took 18 lives on October 25, 2023. The congregation felt the devastation personally – one of its members, Leroy Walker Sr., an Auburn ci

Community members arrive to Faith Baptist Church for their first Sunday service following the mass shooting that took 18 lives on October 25, 2023. The congregation felt the devastation personally – one of its members, Leroy Walker Sr., an Auburn city councilor, lost his son Joseph, the manager of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston. Congregants wept as they raised their voices together in the reassuring hymn “Where Joy and Sorrow Meet.” “The Scripture tells us that when one weeps, we all weep,” said the Rev. Jonathan Case, pastor at Faith Baptist. “So all of us are definitely feeling the heaviness.”

A couple embraces each other outside of the Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul in Lewiston, Maine while attending a vigil for the 18 people who were killed in Lewiston’s mass shootings. Over 1,000 community members were in attendance and a projector

A couple embraces each other outside of the Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul in Lewiston, Maine while attending a vigil for the 18 people who were killed in Lewiston’s mass shootings. Over 1,000 community members were in attendance and a projector screen was set up for those who could not fit inside.

A casket is carried down the stairs of the The Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul on Nov. 3, 2023 after the funeral of Ron Morin, who was killed in Lewiston’s mass shooting. Friends remembered Ron Morin, 55 of Lewiston, as a welcoming, funny man who

A casket is carried down the stairs of the The Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul on Nov. 3, 2023 after the funeral of Ron Morin, who was killed in Lewiston’s mass shooting. Friends remembered Ron Morin, 55 of Lewiston, as a welcoming, funny man who could bring cheer to an entire room in a moment. A regular in the cornhole leagues and tournaments at Schemengees and a popular adult softball umpire, Morin worked for many years at Coca-Cola Beverages Northeast. He left behind a wife and two children.

Bethany Welch, stepdaughter to Joe Walker, sits for a portrait in her parent’s bedroom on Nov. 28, 2023 — in the the home that Walker built with his own hands. Walker was the manager of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston, who police say died w

Bethany Welch, stepdaughter to Joe Walker, sits for a portrait in her parent’s bedroom on Nov. 28, 2023 — in the the home that Walker built with his own hands. Walker was the manager of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston, who police say died while charging at the gunman who ultimately killed 18 people in Maine’s deadliest mass shooting. In December, Welch will graduate from University of Connecticut School of Nursing. Welch, 23, said she owes her interest in medicine to Walker, her biggest cheerleader since he first met her mother and entered her life when she was a little girl. When she heard of the shooting on October 25, 2023, she drove through the night, not knowing what to expect when she arrived. “Seeing all those nurses run in and then feeling that helplessness, like I couldn’t help, I couldn’t get in there ... you’re just frozen,” she said. In that moment, she saw trauma nursing as more than an adrenaline boost. She realized she needed to be part of the solution, even in the hardest moments. “I’m not going to let [another] daughter in America feel the anxiety that I felt,” she said.

Bethany Welch holds her phone, displaying the text messages she sent to her stepfather on the night of the mass shootings that took his life. A photo is seen below the texts, which Welch sent to herself from Walker’s phone after the family received

Bethany Welch holds her phone, displaying the text messages she sent to her stepfather on the night of the mass shootings that took his life. A photo is seen below the texts, which Welch sent to herself from Walker’s phone after the family received Walker’s belongings. The photo was from the last time she spent time with him, at a Red Sox game over the summer.

Bethany Welch holds a framed photo of her stepfather, Joe Walker, while standing in line alongside other graduates waiting to receive their nursing degree at the University of Connecticut. Bethany Welch’s graduation from nursing school was supposed

Bethany Welch holds a framed photo of her stepfather, Joe Walker, while standing in line alongside other graduates waiting to receive their nursing degree at the University of Connecticut. Bethany Welch’s graduation from nursing school was supposed to be a joyful culmination of a year of late nights, tough exams, eye-opening clinics, and more hurdles than she’d ever thought herself capable of overcoming. Filled with the buzz of celebration, a giant lunch with her family, and the long-awaited flipping of the tassel, the day was almost perfect: The only thing missing was her dad.

There is no blood left on the floor of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston, Maine, but traces of death still linger. On cloudless mornings, the sun reaches through a bullet hole in the back wall to cast a puddle of light on the ground, no bigge

There is no blood left on the floor of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston, Maine, but traces of death still linger. On cloudless mornings, the sun reaches through a bullet hole in the back wall to cast a puddle of light on the ground, no bigger than a pool ball. In the dining room, there is a chip in the wood where a bullet grazed the countertop before flying toward the table where owner Kathy Lebel and her husband, Dave, always ate dinner. But what stops Kathy in her tracks is the light fixture hanging just above pool table number six, blasted by gunshots fired at eye level. “Faces. He was aiming for people’s faces,” she says to herself each time, and tries to imagine the crosshairs of a rifle pointed directly into her eyes. She tries to conjure a level of fear that is unimaginable, lets it rise in her chest until just before the point of panic, and then snaps out of it. No, she thinks. She cannot reopen, not here. Not where death still lingers. Now all that was left was to turn on the lights and walk around the pool hall and relive the fragments of stories they’d heard about their friends and where they died. Ron Morin dove there. Joe fell there. And the question that never stopped asking itself hovered in the silence between them: Why?

maine title slide.jpg
More than 1,000 people attended Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul for a vigil in Lewiston, Maine on October 29, 2023, where days earlier a gunman fatally shot 18 people. Some put their heads in their hands as the names of the people who died in Wedn
Adaline Tremblay, 7, comforts her father Keith Tremblay while sitting next him in their Lewiston living room on Thanksgiving day, 2023. Tremblay was playing corn hole at Schemengees Bar and Grill the night of Lewiston’s fatal mass shootings, which c
Kathy Lebel, owner of Schemengees Bar and Grill, sits in the booth of her restaurant on Nov. 27, 2023 where she normally dines with her family when they visit the bar. A gaping hole in the wall is seen to her left, where a bullet ripped through the
Community members arrive to Faith Baptist Church for their first Sunday service following the mass shooting that took 18 lives on October 25, 2023. The congregation felt the devastation personally – one of its members, Leroy Walker Sr., an Auburn ci
A couple embraces each other outside of the Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul in Lewiston, Maine while attending a vigil for the 18 people who were killed in Lewiston’s mass shootings. Over 1,000 community members were in attendance and a projector
A casket is carried down the stairs of the The Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul on Nov. 3, 2023 after the funeral of Ron Morin, who was killed in Lewiston’s mass shooting. Friends remembered Ron Morin, 55 of Lewiston, as a welcoming, funny man who
Bethany Welch, stepdaughter to Joe Walker, sits for a portrait in her parent’s bedroom on Nov. 28, 2023 — in the the home that Walker built with his own hands. Walker was the manager of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston, who police say died w
Bethany Welch holds her phone, displaying the text messages she sent to her stepfather on the night of the mass shootings that took his life. A photo is seen below the texts, which Welch sent to herself from Walker’s phone after the family received
Bethany Welch holds a framed photo of her stepfather, Joe Walker, while standing in line alongside other graduates waiting to receive their nursing degree at the University of Connecticut. Bethany Welch’s graduation from nursing school was supposed
There is no blood left on the floor of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston, Maine, but traces of death still linger. On cloudless mornings, the sun reaches through a bullet hole in the back wall to cast a puddle of light on the ground, no bigge

More than 1,000 people attended Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul for a vigil in Lewiston, Maine on October 29, 2023, where days earlier a gunman fatally shot 18 people. Some put their heads in their hands as the names of the people who died in Wednesday’s shooting were read. Others quietly wept.Hundreds more watched a livestream of the vigil shown on a huge screen in front of the church. Some held American flags and others had lit candles in cups marked with the names of the dead and injured. “Remember to seek healing over relief. Relief is temporary. Healing is permanent. Pain is temporary,” the Rev. Gary Bragg of the Southern Baptist Church in Lewiston said.

Adaline Tremblay, 7, comforts her father Keith Tremblay while sitting next him in their Lewiston living room on Thanksgiving day, 2023. Tremblay was playing corn hole at Schemengees Bar and Grill the night of Lewiston’s fatal mass shootings, which claimed the lives of some of his friends and critically injured many others. Tremblay escaped unscathed, but now grapples with the pain and grief in the aftermath of the shooting.

Kathy Lebel, owner of Schemengees Bar and Grill, sits in the booth of her restaurant on Nov. 27, 2023 where she normally dines with her family when they visit the bar. A gaping hole in the wall is seen to her left, where a bullet ripped through the bar when a mass shooter took the life of her bar manager and many of her friends. Schemengees, she says, should not be where you come to die. “This is supposed to be a happy place, a fun place. I mean, come on, my water broke here,” she says with a shrug. “We can clean that up. A spilt beer? That’s OK. I’d always thought there was no mess big enough we couldn’t clean it up … .” But with her friends the shooting has left her reeling. “Where’s the book on this, where’s the manual? Who can tell me?” she asks. “How do you go from a broken heart, something you love, your passion that was destroyed – how do you bring that back?”

Community members arrive to Faith Baptist Church for their first Sunday service following the mass shooting that took 18 lives on October 25, 2023. The congregation felt the devastation personally – one of its members, Leroy Walker Sr., an Auburn city councilor, lost his son Joseph, the manager of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston. Congregants wept as they raised their voices together in the reassuring hymn “Where Joy and Sorrow Meet.” “The Scripture tells us that when one weeps, we all weep,” said the Rev. Jonathan Case, pastor at Faith Baptist. “So all of us are definitely feeling the heaviness.”

A couple embraces each other outside of the Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul in Lewiston, Maine while attending a vigil for the 18 people who were killed in Lewiston’s mass shootings. Over 1,000 community members were in attendance and a projector screen was set up for those who could not fit inside.

A casket is carried down the stairs of the The Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul on Nov. 3, 2023 after the funeral of Ron Morin, who was killed in Lewiston’s mass shooting. Friends remembered Ron Morin, 55 of Lewiston, as a welcoming, funny man who could bring cheer to an entire room in a moment. A regular in the cornhole leagues and tournaments at Schemengees and a popular adult softball umpire, Morin worked for many years at Coca-Cola Beverages Northeast. He left behind a wife and two children.

Bethany Welch, stepdaughter to Joe Walker, sits for a portrait in her parent’s bedroom on Nov. 28, 2023 — in the the home that Walker built with his own hands. Walker was the manager of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston, who police say died while charging at the gunman who ultimately killed 18 people in Maine’s deadliest mass shooting. In December, Welch will graduate from University of Connecticut School of Nursing. Welch, 23, said she owes her interest in medicine to Walker, her biggest cheerleader since he first met her mother and entered her life when she was a little girl. When she heard of the shooting on October 25, 2023, she drove through the night, not knowing what to expect when she arrived. “Seeing all those nurses run in and then feeling that helplessness, like I couldn’t help, I couldn’t get in there ... you’re just frozen,” she said. In that moment, she saw trauma nursing as more than an adrenaline boost. She realized she needed to be part of the solution, even in the hardest moments. “I’m not going to let [another] daughter in America feel the anxiety that I felt,” she said.

Bethany Welch holds her phone, displaying the text messages she sent to her stepfather on the night of the mass shootings that took his life. A photo is seen below the texts, which Welch sent to herself from Walker’s phone after the family received Walker’s belongings. The photo was from the last time she spent time with him, at a Red Sox game over the summer.

Bethany Welch holds a framed photo of her stepfather, Joe Walker, while standing in line alongside other graduates waiting to receive their nursing degree at the University of Connecticut. Bethany Welch’s graduation from nursing school was supposed to be a joyful culmination of a year of late nights, tough exams, eye-opening clinics, and more hurdles than she’d ever thought herself capable of overcoming. Filled with the buzz of celebration, a giant lunch with her family, and the long-awaited flipping of the tassel, the day was almost perfect: The only thing missing was her dad.

There is no blood left on the floor of Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston, Maine, but traces of death still linger. On cloudless mornings, the sun reaches through a bullet hole in the back wall to cast a puddle of light on the ground, no bigger than a pool ball. In the dining room, there is a chip in the wood where a bullet grazed the countertop before flying toward the table where owner Kathy Lebel and her husband, Dave, always ate dinner. But what stops Kathy in her tracks is the light fixture hanging just above pool table number six, blasted by gunshots fired at eye level. “Faces. He was aiming for people’s faces,” she says to herself each time, and tries to imagine the crosshairs of a rifle pointed directly into her eyes. She tries to conjure a level of fear that is unimaginable, lets it rise in her chest until just before the point of panic, and then snaps out of it. No, she thinks. She cannot reopen, not here. Not where death still lingers. Now all that was left was to turn on the lights and walk around the pool hall and relive the fragments of stories they’d heard about their friends and where they died. Ron Morin dove there. Joe fell there. And the question that never stopped asking itself hovered in the silence between them: Why?

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