the events with Bruce and bring him up to date. It felt uncomfortable being in that presence with all the drama that was surrounding the home. We sat in the kitchen. It looked like it always had, everything neat and tidy. As I sat there, I kept thinking that two people had just died here. It seemed eerie to be present there after what had just occurred a few days before. Bruce was amazingly comfortable in his family home. But he said that the incident didn’t happen to him and he didn’t know all the details yet. My cell phone rang while we were talking with Bruce. It was my son, Dilan. “Mom, Channel 5 is here. Can we talk to them?” I told him to wait and I would be right there. I knew five of his good friends were spending time at our house. They were all stunned that this had happened and were trying to figure it all out and talk with one another. Most of his friends knew Byron and understood his fear. They had no time or much compassion for the two who were killed. Dilan’s friends knew them to be the kids that were in trouble in school. The Channel 5 news guy wanted to interview the kids and get their reaction, of course, to this tragic event. As they saw me driving from Byron’s home, they were determined to get pictures of the house where it had happened. The news reporter asked about what had happened and what I knew, but I didn’t really know anything at that point. I was still stunned myself about what had happened in our neighborhood. I agreed to an interview at the time because I didn’t want Dilan’s friends on TV at that point. I stated that Byron was not the type of person to hurt anyone. He wanted to help kids, not harm. My son’s band had practice sessions there all last summer in 2011. He volunteered his garage for this. This was a tragedy for everyone involved. A couple of the other kids said a few things about how Nick was always in trouble and was considered a bully on the school bus he rode. The news reporter didn’t leave from there. He was insistent upon driving down to the house. I told him to leave Byron’s family alone, but he didn’t listen. He drove right down there, and five minutes later he was back. Bruce had told him to leave at once, along with a few other choice words. He wasn’t tolerating any of the drama.
John happened to be downtown when he heard people talking about Byron and how crazy he was and that these kids had crashed into his garage and he shot them outside. The rumors were running rampant, like they do in a small town. John was upset that all these bad things were being said about his friend. As he got home and there were more news media camped in the street, he invited Channel 11 (KARE-TV) in our home to talk about the real Byron, the Byron that he knew as his good friend. They set up a camera right in our kitchen and threw questions at him for about thirty minutes. John wanted the public to know that Byron was a nice guy. Mission accomplished, except they put his name in the clip when it aired and our home phone lit up like a Christmas tree. Every newspaper and TV station wanted an interview with him and also Byron’s brother. There were the crazed people that called, too. A few calls were very threatening, as we were supporting “the killer”. The callers would curse at us through our phone for supporting him. Every night as I got home from work, the media watched us and called our phone for more information. It was like having the paparazzi all the time for the next ten days. We finally disconnected our home number to stop the threatening calls. As I went to work at the local hospital, I knew people were talking about how my husband was supporting our neighbor. Some were supportive, though, but the wounds were still fresh. We later learned that Nick Brady often wore a bulletproof vest to school, almost every day. He was proud of it and called it his friend. The public wanted to know why Byron waited so long to call someone for help. Why didn’t he just wound them? Not many knew that he had been burglarized many times before and had lost faith in law enforcement all together. He had been offered little help from the Morrison County sheriff’s office other than install cameras so next time they came, they would have clues.
As days went by, the media was still present in the neighborhood. Bruce had agreed to let one newspaper reporter from the Star Tribune photograph the outside of the home and the window that they had broken to gain entry. Our home was a gathering of our neighborhood to try to determine how this happened and who did what. The kids in school were talking too. It was evident that these teens had been in Byron’s home before. Nick and Haile had broken into a home on the south end of town the night before. This home was in the same neighborhood of Haile Kifer’s parents. It was the home of a retired teacher who had been out of the country and came home to a broken glass door with house in disarray. They had stolen his prescription medications, among other various items and collectibles. The hugest piece of the puzzle was trying to figure out how those kids knew he had left his house, thinking he was going to be gone all day. Someone in our neighborhood must have been watching. He suspected a neighbor girl whose parents lived next to Byron’s property. He believed she had come to his property before. When she was about thirteen or fourteen years old, she had left evidence of a smoked joint in one of his cars outside his garage. It was rumored that she had taken some clothing and had worn to school a military jacket with the name Smith embroidered right on it. Byron had seen a trail of clothing leading from his house back to her house and had realized his jacket was missing. He didn’t call the police due to the evidence of marijuana in that car on his property. He worried about getting charged with possession of an illegal drug. I actually had fired this same girl from babysitting as jewelry and makeup had been missing from our home during the time she was babysitting. She had denied this, of course, but I planted some makeup in my bathroom one day, just to see if she would take it. Well, she took the bait, and I confronted her, which she denied, but never asked her to babysit again. John also found about fifty cigarettes butts in our garage behind the grill that were also left by her. No one else in our home smoked. She had the opportunity to watch Byron’s entering and leaving every time he left his property.
Meanwhile at work, I tried to stay focused even though this tragedy was all over the news. My husband’s public support of Byron was all over the news. Our community was in judgment. And it seemed most were horrified with Byron shooting two teenagers. I had been to church the Sunday after all this happened. When the pastor prayed for the two teens and not for Byron, I could hardly stand to be there. I thought about getting up and walking out. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I could barely sit there any longer. I was deciding, “Should I just leave or listen to more prayers about criminals?” I happened to notice the President of our hospital and his wife in the back. I was still in shock when I spoke with them after the service. He and his wife had been out of town until last night and had not heard any news. The next morning, he came into my office to ask if I was okay. I know when I spoke with them on that Sunday, I was in shock and overcome with sadness that this had happened. Our hospital offered many services to their employees, such as counseling. I thanked him but was partly embarrassed about my open and honest talk with him in church. But the feelings and emotions were raw and real. It was hard to focus at work, but it was a refuge away from the people in my home every day trying to figure out this mess. I would come home to strange people discussing the shooting and guns. This Thanksgiving tragedy was in my home constantly. I couldn’t get away from it.
Bruce had been working with the local sheriff’s department to protect the property from further vandals. He stayed overnight there even though I offered him our home. I admired his strength for doing that. But after all, that was his family home too. He was protecting it from all the cars who went sightseeing down Elm Street. There were hundreds every day that just went to the driveway and had to turn around because it was a dead-end street. This lasted for weeks. It was a parade of constant traffic down Elm Street. My husband and I did not visit Byron in jail, but Bruce said he was doing as well as could be expected. The first night he was there, Bruce said that he thanked the jailer because he finally felt safe somewhere, because he hadn’t felt safe in his own home for months. After a few weeks, though, and as the news media somewhat dissipated, Byron felt safe to be out. I had written a letter to him in jail as we had no other communication during this time. I wanted him to know that he was our friend and both John and I supported him. My letter stated that there were people that understood his reaction to the burglary and that Dilan’s friends were also concerned about him. I told him about all the rumors that had been exaggerated about him and John came to his defense without hesitation. John was steadfast in his support of his friend. The letter to him was encouraging but didn’t bring forth what we had learned about the two who had broken into his home. I ended the letter with offering him support and help in whatever he needed. Bruce had hired Steve Meshbesher, a notable defense
