5 years after Parkland, families cope through good works
PARKLAND, FLA. >> After a gunman murdered 14 students and three staff members at Parkland's Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School five years ago Tuesday, their families were left with a burning question: How do we go on with our lives while honoring our loved one's memory?
Most have answered by starting foundations or performing other charitable work dedicated to a variety of causes: protecting students; building parks and gardens; providing scholarships; fighting disease and helping the disabled; sending kids to camp; teaching children to swim, dance, create art or play music and sports; and tightening gun laws.
“For all of them, their biggest fear was that their loved one would be forgotten,” said Florida state Rep. Christine Hunschofsky, who was Parkland's mayor in 2018 when the shooting happened. “They do this work to keep their spirit alive.”
Still, she said, “it is really important to remember that no matter how many `good things' have come out of the aftermath, no one is ever the same again. No one loses that pain.”
Most of the families also belong to their group, Stand With Parkland. Putting aside political differences, those families work with lawmakers nationally to see tougher school safety regulations enacted, train administrators to conduct more thorough threat assessments and assure threats reported to the FBI are passed to local law enforcement. The group also promotes gun safety.
“When we listen to each other, politics doesn't have to be a bad thing,” said Philip Schentrup, who lost his 16-year-old daughter Carmen in the shooting. “If you realize that 90% of the stuff in this world we agree on, it is not hard to make positive change.”
Some family projects have a political bent, but most don't. Overall, millions of dollars have been raised.
These are their causes:
Alyssa Alhadeff
After losing their 14-yearold daughter Alyssa, Ilan and Lori Alhadeff began their foundation, Make Our Schools Safe. It advocates in state legislatures for “Alyssa's Law,” which requires that teachers receive panic buttons tied directly to law enforcement. The law has been enacted in Florida, New York and New Jersey, and it is being considered federally and in several states.
The foundation has also distributed to schools kits for treating gunshot victims, and it started high school Make Our Schools Safe clubs to give students a voice and instruction on violence-prevention.
“We want to do everything that we can to create a safer school environment,” said Lori Alhadeff, who was elected to the Broward County school board nine months after the shooting. She is now its chairwoman. “We want to make sure that (children) are protected and that they come home alive.”
She said being on the school board and running the foundation “turned my pain and grief into action.”
Her daughter frequented the beach, excelled in math and Spanish, was a gifted writer and captain of her soccer team. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind.
“Through Alyssa's Law, I know Alyssa is saving a lot of lives,” she said.
Scott Beigel
Geography teacher and cross country coach Scott Beigel died a hero, shot as he herded panicked students into his classroom, where they all survived. In a few months, Beigel, 35, would have been working as a summer camp counselor. He loved camp, attending every year since he was 6.
“(Camp) was Scott's magic place,” his mother, Linda Beigel Schulman, said. “He could be a kid. He could be whoever he wanted to be.”
So, two days after her son's murder, she and Beigel's stepfather, Michael Schulman, started the Scott J. Beigel Memorial Fund, which pays for underprivileged children touched by gun violence to attend sleep-away camp — and return annually if they maintain good grades and stay out of trouble. This summer, 250 children will participate.
“I want to keep the kids away from drugs and gangs. I want to do it so they don't have to be rehabilitated after they are incarcerated,” his mother said. “Every one of those kids has a piece of Scott's heart.”
Martin Duque
Martin Duque, 14, was born in Mexico but wanted to become a U.S. Navy Seal; he belonged to the school's Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps. He loved sports and was a devoted churchgoer. His family has no known foundation or charity and has kept out of the public eye.
“He was a smart kid who always helped others even before himself,” his family said in a statement that was read at the shooter's trial. “His favorite movie was `Star Wars.' He was basically an old soul. His family loved him in every situation and he would tell his parents that when he grew up, he would buy them a house. We miss him very much.”
Nick Dworet
Nick Dworet was a star swimmer who loved to promote his sport. The night before the 17-year-old died, he spoke to the younger swimmers at his club to encourage them. That's why his parents, Mitch and Annika Dworet, have focused the Nicholas Dworet Memorial Fund on swimming and water safety.
The fund provides college scholarships to swimmers and divers in South Florida and at Indianapolis University, where Nick Dworet planned to compete. It organizes training days for swimmers, works with the Special Olympics and offers swimming lessons for underprivileged children.
“We are much smaller than a lot of the other charities and foundations of the other families,” said Joseph Chiarella, the fund's treasurer. “But we plan to expand as needed and requested.”
Aaron Feis
Aaron Feis, a security guard and assistant football coach, hurried to the building after being told a gunman was inside, but he was shot just as he got to the door. The 37-year-old, who had graduated from Stoneman Douglas, received the National Football Foundation's gold medal for his actions.
His parents started a foundation in his name that assisted needy students with supplies and other essentials. But the family said it became too much for them to handle alone during the pandemic and went inactive. Feis, Scott Beigel and Chris Hixon, the school's athletic director and wrestling coach who was also killed in the attack, were honored at the 2018 ESPY Awards as the national coaches of the year.
In a statement read at the shooter's trial, his widow, Melissa Feis, said they met when she was 16 at a church service, and over the next two decades he “knew he could make a difference in the lives of others.”
“Aaron had a knack for putting others at ease. His presence, jovial smile and humor made him a person others sought to be around,” she wrote.