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The drive to the front door of the high school took less than five minutes. Security guards LeeAnn Grant and Derrick Brun watched in shock as Weise drove right up to the door. Weise climbed out of the car and fired two shotgun blasts into the air. Grant started to run away from the door, herding students as she went. Brun, unarmed, walked toward Weise. The security guard was shot with the 12-gauge shotgun at point-blank range. Weise walked on, firing down the hallways. And then, in what seems to have been a random decision, Weise blasted the glass panel of Rogers' study hall to find more targets and seal his fate.
The search for healing began the night after the shootings. People gathered at a gymnasium, forming circles around circles. The families of the dead sat in the inner circle, surrounded by a semicircle of drummers who were in turn surrounded by the rest of the community. Tribal elders lit sage, sweet grass and tobacco, and let them burn until the gym was full of smoke. Then the drummers started tapping out the traditional song of healing. Crying and wailing ensued. No one in the tribe knew how one of their own could have strayed so far from the traditional path. The rest of the night was spent discussing, often in the Ojibwa's language, the need to spend more time with children, talking to them in the native tongue and teaching them the traditional dances, meeting more often, watching less TV. Meanwhile, the flashing sign in front of the Seven Clans Casino at Red Lake read WE ARE ONE IN OUR SORROW AND OUR LOVE. --With reporting by Sarah Sturmon Dale/ Minneapolis