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Darrell, former pastor of a 300-member church in Lakewood, Colo., first came to prominence with an appearance before the House Judiciary Committee in May after the Columbine killings. He declared the answer to school violence "lies not in gun laws" but in a "simple trust in God." His message resonated strongly with Christian groups. Soon he was deluged with speaking engagements. And he invited his daughters Bethanee, 24, and Dana, 22, as well as his ex-wife (Rachel's mother) Beth Nimmo, to become full-time members of the Columbine Redemption. Beth and Dana speak to groups; Bethanee answers mail and runs the Littleton office. Darrell's fiance Sandy will be joining him on the road after their Jan. 30 wedding.
In spite of their shatterproof belief that Rachel did not die in vain, the last eight months have been difficult for the Scott family. Craig Scott, Rachel's 16-year-old brother, who was kneeling next to Isaiah Shoels and Matt Kechter when they were shot to death in the library, has had the hardest time. Though he has on occasion spoken to groups with Darrell, he refuses to return to Columbine High and is being schooled by a county home-tutoring program. "Some days he can't get out of bed," says his mother Beth.
It was Craig who first identified Cassie Bernall as the girl in the library who said she believed in God just before she was shot. When police later took Craig back to the library, he pointed forward, to the place where he had heard the question asked. His face turned ashen when he realized that Cassie had been sitting at a table behind him. One policeman said he thought Craig was going to vomit. The girl who actually said the words Craig heard, according to witnesses interviewed by police, was Valeen Schnurr.
Members of the Scott family say every atom of their lives has been rearranged since Columbine. "Things I did before, like shopping or going to movies or eating out, seem frivolous now," says Bethanee. Beth says, "Things don't mean much anymore. They bring no joy or comfort. It's only people now. And even my friends have changed." Darrell spends hours at Rachel's grave when he is not on the road, indulging in the tears he can't afford to shed on the podium. "The biggest thing I do for him is just listen to him cry and talk about her," says friend Wayne Worthy of Springfield, Mo., who helps with the new ministry.
Darrell is also pushing ahead with his vision of a large youth ministry based on his daughter's life and journals. He has become a prominent advocate of reinstating prayer in schools. He has stepped up his fund raising--he earns about $1,500 for the ministry each time he speaks--and in December brought out the first issue of a magazine called Rachel's Journal. He wants to build a combined Columbine memorial and Christian youth center that would focus on teaching and training young people from around the country. And he wants to build a 200-ft.-high cross somewhere in the area.
The big question is whether the Columbine tragedy has spiritual legs. "We all realize that at some point the Columbine story is not going to be as strong as it was," says Pastor Billy Epperhart of Littleton, a close friend of the Scotts'. "There has to be something that is bigger than Columbine. The question is, What does it look like for Darrell's life?" Right now it just looks busy: he has speaking engagements booked through the end of the year 2000.