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Northeast Arkansas is very rural, with miles between some houses, but the word neighbor isn't circumscribed by geography here. Within 20 minutes of the first 911 call, a radio station began asking for blood donations. Quickly a second facility was set up. That evening, as a hundred would-be donors waited at both locations, the station had to ask people to stay home. All the banks opened accounts for donations pouring in for the victims. White has become the color of Jonesboro's grief--and community. The entire town and virtually every citizen wears white ribbons, as if sins as red as blood could be washed as white as snow.
There are small, troubling notes, nevertheless, such as two 11-year-old boys who, speaking to a reporter in the wake of the tragedy, vied with each other for the title of Drew Golden's "best friend," telling tales of how their pal had talked about "taking over" the school. And, for all the goodwill and faith and forgiveness, there are some hearts that may never be comforted. Mitchell Wright lost his wife Shannon to the hail of bullets. His fading tan is a reminder of a happier time. It was just three weeks ago that he, Shannon and their son Zane, 3, returned from Disney World in Orlando, Fla. "Thank goodness we were able to do that," says Wright. The family had other dreams, he says, but "they have been shattered." The loss resounds with the question repeated by Zane: "Where's Mommy?"
Mitchell answers, "You know your mom's stomach was hurt," or "Mom went to sleep," or "You know where Jesus lives, don't you? Mama went to see Jesus."
But Zane continues to look under the bed for his mommy. "Mom's in heaven," Wright tries to explain.
"She'll fall out," Zane says. "When is she going to come home?"
Zane talks to his rocking horse, whom the family named Cactus. "Cactus, my mom can't come home."
And then at night, Zane tells his father, "I want to go to heaven too."
--Reported by Sylvester Monroe, Julie Grace and Jackson Baker/Jonesboro, Elizabeth L. Bland/New York and Wendy Cole/Spring Valley