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But to a few close friends, the father confided his "tremendous discipline problems" with Kip. "They tried to be nurturing," says retired lumber broker Tom Jacobson, a close friend. "But Kip seemed to inherit something that left him angry inside. He was out of control." The parents tried on-and-off therapy and even homeschooling for a period. Denny Sperry, another old friend, says Bill Kinkel seemed baffled by his son. "He felt he had to be strict or Kip would cross over the line," Sperry says. When the youth had a first brush with the law, after throwing rocks off a freeway bridge in Bend, Ore., the parents were exasperated. Recently, after Kip and some friends "t.p.-ed" a local house, wrapping it in toilet paper, he was reportedly grounded for the summer.
According to some reports, the parents had discovered Kip's secret gun collection, including a sawed-off shotgun that Kip kept in a box. Last Wednesday, Mickell Young, 15, walked out of second-period study hall with Kip. "How's it going?" Young asked. "Not that great," Young recalls Kip replying. "My mom took my guns away." When Young said, "Oh, that sucks," Kip said, "It's not a problem. Something will happen." A short while later, Kip and a friend were arrested. The friend had stolen a gun in a burglary and sold it to Kip, who had stashed it in his locker. The boys were suspended and hauled down to the police station. Kip was charged with possession of a firearm on school property and possession of stolen property, and released to his parents' custody.
Out of shame or in revenge, Kip shot his parents that night or the next morning, police say. Then, at about 7:30 a.m., he drove to school in the family's Ford Explorer. Some 400 of Thurston High School's 1,500 students were gathered in the cafeteria in the usual rituals of last-minute homework, coffee, doughnuts and socializing before classes began. Amid the cheery chaos, no one stopped Kinkel, dressed in cargo pants and a long khaki trench coat. As he walked calmly toward the door of the cafeteria, he began firing his .22 semiautomatic rifle, hitting two boys. Senior Mike Peebles, a lifeguard with first-aid training, rushed toward a boy who had been shot in the head. Rolling him over with the help of others, he held the boy's head so as to open the airway. "We said, 'Hey, you, don't leave us,'" Peebles recalls. "But his eyes were swollen shut, and his face was purple." The student, 16-year-old Ben Walker, later died in the hospital.
Without a word, Kinkel entered the cafeteria, spraying bullets. It was election day for student government, and candidates were moving from table to table, handing out candy and canvassing votes. Sadie Hayles, 16, had been chatting with Tony Case, a baseball player, when "Kip came galloping sideways across the room. Tony was saying, 'You guys should vote for A.J.' Then Kip pointed the gun toward me and Tony. Tony kinda dropped and let out this breath. He stumbled next to me. I was, like, 'This isn't funny.'"